Love & Other Disasters(64)

Except they didn’t feel that stress when they were with Dahlia. When London was alone with Dahlia, their subconscious could let go.

And when Dahlia said Lizzie’s name, it was like London’s stress brain jumped forward into London’s Dahlia brain and ran around inside with muddy feet, leaving dirty stains on the floor.

When the sixty minutes were up, London glanced behind them again. They were extremely pleased with their cake, but Lizzie’s, which London had heard her tell the judges was called Strawberry Lemonade Afternoon, was stunning. The icing was perfectly scraped around the sides, offering artistic peeks of the lemon-yellow cake beneath. It looked airy and decadent all at once. The sugared strawberries on top were plump and bright. Lizzie had cut herself a piece and sunk a forkful into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

With Lizzie’s existence now more pressing in London’s consciousness, they also had to accept how excellent she was. Lizzie was a true contender.

Lizzie could win it all.

And wouldn’t that just be fucking typical.

“Damn,” Tanner Tavish said when London brought up their cake. He tapped the tines of his fork against his mouth. “That is a good cake.”

“I agree.” Audra nodded. “The flavor combination here is stellar. The richness of the chocolate and coffee really come through, but then your tongue finishes on the freshness of the mint. And your decoration of the smashed peppermint around the sides is so well done. It could’ve looked messy, but you’ve made it look sophisticated. Really lovely.”

“You knocked it out of the park,” Sai said.

This would have been a good day, London thought.

Dahlia did well, too. She looked shocked to be in the top three, but the judges had really liked it.

“The ganache is smooth as velvet,” Sai said. “The cake is rich, but the tartness and sweetness of your raspberry filling balances it out perfectly. Sure, the flavors could have been more creative, but this is a well-executed dessert. Nice work.”

London won the challenge. But for the first time all day, Dahlia’s glow reappeared.

She was so pretty when she was happy.

London’s chest hurt.

And then Ahmed was kicked off.

Creative thinking had not apparently helped Ahmed’s cake, which didn’t have enough time to finish baking, which was too hot for his icing to even attempt to adhere to.

Once the cameras turned off, London walked over to him to say goodbye, feeling ready to punch something.

“Hey, London.”

Ahmed actually smiled at them. In fact, Ahmed was almost beaming.

“Look, that was shitty, Ahmed. I’m sorry.” London crossed their arms over their chest and shook their head. This disadvantage had been unfair.

“It’s cool. It’s a competition.” Ahmed shrugged. “If anything, it surprised me they thought I was enough of a threat to give me the disadvantage. Almost made me a little cocky there for a second.”

London tried to smile. They realized, with clarity, how much they liked Ahmed. Ahmed had smiled at London during the meet-and-greet dinner. Ahmed and London were not friends, necessarily, but Ahmed had always been cool with them. London had been really lucky, they knew, getting Ahmed as a tablemate for so much of this competition. His acceptance had let London feel comfortable, had given space for them to cook at their best.

One more person London could slot into the You can relax side of their brain. And now he was leaving.

“Listen, London, don’t feel bad about me. This is the longest I’ve ever been away from my wife and kids, and honestly, I’ve been losing my damn mind. The fact that I even made it this far will definitely be my coolest dad moment ever, so I’m good.”

London held out their hand. Ahmed glanced down at it.

And then he pulled in London for a hug.

“Take care of yourself, London,” he said near London’s ear. “Don’t let the bastards get you down.”

Ahmed stepped back and patted London on the shoulder with a genuine smile. And then he walked away for his final solo interview.

London turned back around. Dahlia waited for them with nervous energy, shifting from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

“Hey,” she said. “Let’s go.”

She turned on her heel and hustled under the wooden archway toward the exit briskly, with purpose. London had to jog to catch up with her.

They headed in the direction of the hotel in silence, the muggy night air filling London’s lungs.

“Good job,” London said after a few minutes, deciding to take a neutral route of conversation instead of What the hell is going on with you? “I know you get nervous about desserts. Hopefully this made you realize you shouldn’t.”

“London,” Dahlia said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. She dropped her head into her hands. “I know you’re mad at me about the Lizzie thing, and you should be. I am so, so sorry.”

London rubbed the back of their neck. They hated being mad at her. They hated being mad at their dad. They even hated being mad at Lizzie. Being mad took up so much space. Being mad was exhausting.

“It’s okay,” they said eventually. “I’m more worried about whether you’re okay.”

“Khari really pushed to save Lizzie, for whatever reason,” Dahlia said in a rush, ignoring London’s last sentence. “And give you the disadvantage. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get the disadvantage. And I was so flustered being up there, and tired, and I couldn’t—”