Karl chuckles. The production assistant is waving her clipboard frantically,

checking her watch like we’re about to count down to an explosion. Karl takes

my hand and we run down the hall, bursting through the doors to the stage. The

assistant gestures to where our station is, all the way on the other end.

Composing ourselves, we walk stiffly onto the stage.

As we walk into the blinding lights, I can see the other contestants—waiting,

watching at their stations. Vanessa is watching from the judges’ stand, and for a

moment I expect her to shake her head with disappointment. But instead, she

shoots me a subtle wink and a thumbs-up. That alone is enough to make me

feel more at ease.

Enter title…

But then, just as we’re passing by the other stations, I hear it: Daniel’s voice, a

through the air, low enough so only Karl

hear.

mutters to his sous chef, not even attempting to

even get her morning straight

has no business being in a professional

bristle of indignation

beside me,

words.

he growls, ready to pounce, but I grab his arm

signaling him

not now. Not when it would only prove Daniel’s

in the kitchen, who needs

care of business.

I say firmly. “Just ignore

a look as we approach our station. “And just let her

you? Again?”

you to

you

him off. “Now is not the

eyes search mine for a moment before he finally nods, although I can

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