And that just wasn’t okay.
It was time for judging to begin. All three of them had plugged away, whipping ganache, making custard, tempering chocolate for their giant centerpieces. Henry wanted to toss Willa off a cliff and into a pool of lava, but there was no denying she was a damn good baker. All of them were. Today, they’d made rich chocolate pies, six beautiful chocolate soufflés apiece, and finally centerpieces and the individual confections to accompany them. Willa had gone booze-themed, spiking all her chocolates with brandy and crème de cacao and whiskey. Tristan had been bold with his flavors, using candied ginger and lemongrass and chili-spiced walnuts. And Henry, in spite of the weight crushing him, had made his mark, or at least he thought so. The judges had all loved his chocolate-covered pralines and the caramelized white chocolate truffles and even his smoky, peaty Scotch cream chocolates.
Their work on the actual centerpieces had been on par, no one obviously pulling ahead as far as Henry could tell. Now the judges were deliberating, and Henry couldn’t help but glance to Willa one more time. She smiled serenely at him, as though they didn’t all know what the hell she’d done.
It wasn’t long before the judges finished and the cameras swung back into place. In the semifinal, there should have been some anticipation, but Henry could only muster the most robotic of customer-service smiles. Sylvia stared at them, no smile on her face. “The final three chefs. You’ve all come so far at this point and done some amazing things in this kitchen. It’s a shame to see any of you go, but that’s the unfortunate reality.” She sighed. “But first the good news. Someone really pulled out all the stops to bring us something spectacular. An eye-catching centerpiece worthy of any event, perfect chocolate soufflés, and a stunning pie.” She clapped her hands once, very quietly. “Congratulations, Tristan. Well, well done.”
There was light applause to greet him, but the clapping fell quite short, especially from Willa. No surprise.
Sylvia’s smile faded quickly. “And there is, as always, bitter to go with the sweet. Sometimes, it has to come down to the events of one day. All of you are absolutely amazing chefs, but the one who has to leave today... is Willa.”
She gave zero response. The judges shifted uncomfortably in place, Eli glancing to the other two, seemingly seeking some information. Willa stood stiff and plain-faced, but her knuckles were white, fingers balled into tight fists. He doubted she’d stay quiet long. Henry had to act now.
“Actually, I need to step down.”
All eyes swiveled toward Henry, as well as the cameras. He was met with a dozen or more gawking stares, and if the silence when Willa lost the challenge had been heavy, this was deafening.
Rita apparently collected herself before everyone else. “What did you say, Henry?”
“I’m forfeiting.”
“No.” Tristan shook his head, eyes wide. “Henry, no.”
“Yes.” Henry tried to calm the rumbling in his stomach. “I can’t stay here anymore. I need to head home. There’s... an issue with the shop. I’m sorry.”
“No, Henry.” Tristan stepped in front of him and grabbed his shoulders. “This isn’t right. You deserve to stay.”
“But I can’t.” He took the opportunity to look Tristan straight on and willed him to understand, willed him to getwhy. “You need to stay and do Seattle proud. I need to... get out of the way.”
Tristan’s eyes widened in his pale face. Then he whipped around and stood straight in front of Henry like a wall. “He’s leaving because Willa blackmailed us. Henry... Henry and I have been seeing each other, and she threatened to go to the producers and out us.”
Holy shit.Henry didn’t quite know what to make of that. He’d have happily crowed about their relationship from the top of the Golden Gate Bridge if it had been safe. ButTristanhad told them? Out loud? What about Lucia? What about the money? Did that mean they were ...What did that mean for the pair of them?
Willa finally unclenched her fists. “These boys are not playing kosher, and all I tried to do was give them the chance to save face. Guess they didn’t want that, so let’s lay out all the cards.”
Dexter stepped out from behind the café table. “What are you talking about?”
“They’ve got their little romance on the side, and they’re helping each other out for God knows how long. Maybe from the very start.”
Sylvia stared slack-jawed at the judges, then to the director tucked in the back corner. But it was Dexter who finally spoke, turning toward the open backstage. “Jacob, I think maybe we should cut for a second while we sort this out.”
Little red lights flicked off all over set as the cameras shut down. They were taking the accusation seriously, and that didn’t give Henry any hope. Why couldn’t Tristan let him make this right? Why couldn’t hetrustthat Henry knew what he was doing?
Dexter came down into the aisle between the two rows of stations. “Why don’t you be very clear about what you’re claiming, Willa.”
“They are an item, and they have been for a while now.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and flashed the screen to Dexter. “That’s them trying to be secret and hold hands at the Bluestone Lotus, and Finn walked out on them kissing behind the studio.”
Goddamn.Henry’s gut tightened a little. He’d assured Tristan that Finn was solid. Apparently not.
Dexter nodded and went back to the other two judges. They huddled together, whispering and... fuck. Henry turned toward Tristan. “What was that?”
“I’m sorry. I hope that wasn’t too far. But I can’t let you throw this away.”
Some of the tightness in Henry’s abdomen faded slightly. Not much, but slightly. “What about... everything?”
Tristan sighed. “I hashed it out with Lucia. As much as you can in the middle of a panic attack.” He laughed nervously. “She laid my ass out and told me if I care about you, I’d better damn well try to stop you from leaving.”
“I was ready to.”
