Dexter smiled. “Good. You should. It’s, as Eli said, exquisite. And not just the coconut.”
Sylvia nodded, rubbing her hands together. “Always lovely to have you over for dessert, but I’m afraid we need to move on to Henry.” She winked. “If you don’t mind.”
Tristan didn’t bother with pretense. He let the production crew return his cake to his station while he headed straight for Henry. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Henry and Tristan lifted the cake and carried it to the front. Tristan leaned around the cake to catch a glimpse of Henry: stubble and muscle and a grin full of straight white teeth that he tried not to imagine nipping the nape of his neck. Not a helpful line of thought to go down, however pleasant it might have been. Then Tristan went back to his station to hear it play out. And maybe to check out Henry’s ass, since the angle was so accommodating. The judges got their description from Henry, although he still wasn’t revealing whatever his “surprise” layer was. Then they began to cut, laying thin slices out on their plates until they hit the top.
“Well, surprise indeed.” Dexter laid a slice out on a new plate. The outside was cake, but inside was a firm, jiggly center, fully bound to the crumb on the inside. He prodded it. “Bavarois?”
Henry nodded. “Of course.”
“Clever. And you’ve managed to pull it off.”
Tristan was impressed. Getting that layer put together was a task worthy of another trip to the drugstore.
They worked their way through the rest of the tiers. Once they’d finished, Dexter nodded, rubbing his hands together. “That was a delight, especially the bavarois. Creamy and rich, and the genoise has a great texture.”
“And that really was the standout,” said Eli. “It’s an impressive bit of work, especially considering how much bavarois you have inside. Though the others were well-made cakes, good flavor as well.”
“They are, but I don’t think they’re balanced.” Rita went back in for another forkful of cake and Bavarian cream. “This is fantastic. The others are a little overbearing, and I don’t think they go well together as a whole cake.” She gestured to the top layer again. “But that’s delicious. Stunning.”
“Thank you.” Henry turned to Sylvia. “It’s been real.”
She chuckled. “It has been real. Real-ly bad for my dress size.” She patted her stomach as Henry walked back to his station. The crew got all their cameras in place, the judges got hair and makeup retouched, and a bubble of tension expanded in Tristan’s middle. This was it. The end.
After fifteen minutes, which seemed like approximately thirty seconds, he and Henry were herded up front to stand next to each other, and Tristan nudged into his side, just to get fleeting contact as their mics got adjusted.
Then the cameras flicked on and Sylvia clapped for what would probably be the last time, and Tristan’s stomach lurched into his throat as she started to speak. “Tristan. Henry. You’ve both been wonderful the whole competition, and today is no exception. I may very well have to fly out to Seattle the next time I need my cheesecake fix, and I’m divorcing my husband and hiring you both to make wedding cakes when we get remarried.”
Tristan chuckled and Henry pulled him closer until they stood absolutely side by side, pressed to each other and waiting, ensconced in the smell of coconut. His skin tingled, but his mind calmed at Henry’s presence next to him.
Sylvia nodded. “I’d like to tell you that you’ll each be given 125,000 dollars and it’s a wash, but unfortunately that idea was shot right down. One of youdidwin. You edged out the other by a fraction of an inch of buttercream, but that fraction made all the difference.” She gestured to Henry. “On one hand we had classic beauty and flawless execution of five different cakes, including a stunning upset with that Bavarian cream layer. A display worthy of any time from the 1800s to two hundred years in the future.” Her hand shifted to Tristan. “And on the other, we have irrepressible style and unique flavor that took us on a journey, from the tropic heat of summer all the way into the fireside cocoa of winter. I tell you, I’m glad I didn’t have to make this decision.”
At her sigh, Tristan’s stomach made another valiant escape attempt, and Henry’s grip tightened well into the point of discomfort. This was it. This was the decision they’d been working toward their whole time here. One of them was going to win the money.
But Tristan had already won a prize. He’d gotten Henry.
Sylvia kept her face stern yet again. “The winner ofGet Baked, and a quarter million dollars is ...” Her face broke into the widest smile she’d given during their whole tenure there. “Tristan Delgado!”
Did they say that right?His head swam, light and spinning.Did I hear it right?His fingers quivered.She said my name.
Henry immediately tossed his arms around Tristan and squeezed him even tighter than he’d been holding his hand. Which was good, because Tristan had nearly collapsed.
If it’s a dream, then fuck it. I’m making the most of it.Tristan pressed their lips together. Henry leaned into it, locked his mouth to Tristan’s with fire and sugar and... coconut.Goddamn coconut.
When they finally parted. Tristan smiled at him. Just at him. “I won.”
“You won. And it could only have happened to one better person.”
Tristan shook his head and whispered, “Henry fucking Isaacson.”
He heard footsteps approach and, in spite of his desire, he tracked the sound over to a bright grin and a shiny bald head. Dexter approached and leaned in close, covering his lapel mic with his hand. “Director’s losing his head, saying we’re going to make so much money on this finale. Good news for us, bad news for you: you might have to come in and film some new material to play up the romance angle. But they owe you one if you need anything.” He pulled back and shook Tristan’s hand.
“I... I won.” Tristan barely let the words fall off his tongue a second time. “My God, I won.” A quarter million dollars. Respect from people in his industry. He could probably even renegotiate his contract with Carlita, if he could summon up the nerve to bring it up with her.Then maybe I can leave eventually and start my own place.
Tristan’s knees shook, but he forced himself to stand straight and firm and, finally, smile at Dexter. How long had they been standing there, now? “Thank you, thank you.”
