“Shitty sandwiches,thenthe Bluestone Lotus.” Tristan put his hands on his hips. “Honestly, if you’re not going to remember our first date, I don’t know what to do with you.”
“I thought we discussed that already: car battery to the nipples.” Henry smiled at him for a few moments, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Why did you step in like that?”
“Because you’re worth it.” Tristan shocked himself at the ease with which that came out. “I couldn’t let you leave. Not like that.” Tristan’s belly tightened, but he sighed and took Henry’s hands, squeezing them gently while he looked into those warm brown eyes. “I know I can’t live without my sister... but I’m not sure I want to try living without you, either. And if I let you throw your dream away for my sake, we’d never be okay again. I’d never be able to look you in the eye.” He didn’t want to focus too much on the panic brewing, the building expenses waiting for him. For a moment or two, he wanted to give himself over to Henry. Henry, who had been ready to throw everything away for him.
Tristan kissed him before he could say anything, and he didn’t have to worry about the show, and he could touch Henry as much as he liked.
He liked to touch him a lot.
When they finally parted, Tristan adjusted his glasses. “With all the stuff we have to make in one day, the filming is going to be brutal this time.”
Thankfully, Henry took the subject change in stride. “Tell me about it.” He lay down next to Tristan and kissed his cheek. “You know, now that this is getting real... What do you even do with a quarter million dollars? That wasn’t exactly on my radar.”
“Do you want an itemized list?” Tristan shifted a little higher up. “You lose about half to taxes, so 125,000 left. I’d pay off my student loans, get a better car, pump some money into savings and retirement, pay off as many credit cards as I possibly can, help my sister, fix any remaining house crap. Then if there’s anything left, maybe I’d invest it.”
Henry rubbed his hand up and down Tristan’s spine. “I think you might have a little room for some fun in that budget.”
Tristan chuckled. “We’ll see.”
Henry nodded, seemingly to himself. “I’d get an ice cream machine. I love ice cream. Plus maybe I’d be able to introduce it to the shop if I had a chance to experiment with it.”
“There’s something special about making your own. I used to do it in culinary school all the time.” Tristan pressed himself against Henry’s side. “Olive oil ice cream, sea salt, parmesan. And some normal stuff too. Sometimes.”
“Well, when I win, you’re welcome to use it anytime.”
“Still so cocky. Aren’t you the one who wanted to trade me for my chiffon recipe?”
Henry shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I plead the fifth.”
Tristan planted another kiss against the nape of Henry’s neck and snuggled against him. And that’s how they stayed the rest of the night.
Tristan furiously whipped meringue for his grand finale bake. The top layer of his wedding cake—because of course he was making a wedding cake—would be covered in thick Swiss meringue and torched off in the oven. The oven was really the only way to do it. A blowtorch didn’t cook the meringue deep enough, didn’t dry it out enough or give it that perfect chewy texture the way a few minutes under the broiler would.
He’d left a little more than an hour on his schedule for assembly and decoration, but he’d been putting the base pieces together the whole time, so it shouldn’t end up too tight. He had all his tiers crumb-coated and his fondant was ready and colored. He’d momentarily considered making his own, but there was too much to do, and the quality of fresh-made fondant wasn’t a significant enough improvement to justify that much work.
At long last, they’d moved Henry to the opposite side of the room. Cons: it put him and his delicious goddamn body too far away to properly gawk at. Pros: it let Tristan take in what Henry was doing for this last challenge. And all the ones before that.
And so far, they were pretty much neck and neck, based on the judges’ notes. They’d universally liked Henry’s cheesecake better, as far as texture and finishing. Which was valid, since Tristan’s wasslightlygrainier than it should have been. But Henry’s flavors—a blueberry and lemon zest compote on top of a classic vanilla cheesecake—had been “maybe too safe” compared to Tristan’s white chocolate cheesecake and huckleberry syrup. On angel food cake, they’d been functionally identical.
So it was down to this. Andbothof them, from the looks of things on Henry’s side, were pulling out multi-tiered cakes.
The three judges walked over to Tristan’s station and he smiled at them. “Afternoon.” They were somehow such a part of his life, now, that he could talk to them without blithering.
Dexter smiled wide. “Afternoon, Tristan. How are you holding up?”
“Oh, plugging away.” He pulled up his beaters and the meringue was perfect. “Hopefully you like it.”
“So, you’re the flavor man in this competition. What are you bringing us?”
“You want it in alphabetical order or something else?”
They all laughed, and Dexter leaned in. “Whatever comes to mind.”
“Well, it’s a four-tiered wedding cake. My wedding cake, so my flavor stories.”
“Flavor stories.” Eli chuckled. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”
Was that a compliment? Tristan knew it was alittlepretentious to talk about flavor stories, but there was no better term to describe what he was doing. Like a movie, each section of the cake used flavors to evoke feeling. “I wanted a tier for each of the four seasons. Eternal love and all that. So for spring, I’ve got a cherry cake with rose and sour cherry buttercream.” He pointed to each layer as he detailed them. “And that’s filled with a quick cherry compote. Then summer needs bright and tropical flavors, so a classic orange cake with pineapple and coconut buttercream, toasted coconut on the outside, and a passionfruit jelly in the middle.” Plus maybe the coconut inhiswedding cake represented Henry a little bit. Maybe. “Fall is all about apples in Washington, so I’ve packed as many apples as I could inside the layer. Apples in the buttercream, stewed apples, an apple cake, and... there’s just a lot of apples.”
