Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,77

your bake, and it was perfect, and the shimmer in the marbled water and the swans? I would be honored to have that made for any of the weddings I bake for.” I stepped back a little and tilted his chin. “Justin?”

“You said something, back before, I don’t know if you meant it but—”

“I don’t know what I meant either.” I didn’t want him to dissect my words, and abruptly it was imperative that I show him, so I kissed him. I cradled his face, and I kissed him hard, and then soft until his unyielding lips parted, and we kissed lazily for a long time. “All I know is that I love being with you. I love talking to you and baking with you. I love your cake in a mug. I love your body. I love when we make love. And it is making love, it’s not just sex… ” I ran out of breath to name all the things that I loved.

“I’m not sure I know what love is.” Justin was miserable again.

“It’s trust, honesty, and happiness,” I said. God knows where that came from. “It’s what my parents have, and I want that. With you.” I didn’t even put in the word think or imply that I wasn’t sure at all, because oddly, in this large bathroom with the ornate mirrors and fancy soap, I knew for certain I’d fallen in love.

But I’d laid it all out there, exposing my heart, and told him what I thought, it was up to him now. He could turn away, overwhelmed at what I was laying on him in the middle of controversy on a baking show, or he could just run, or maybe he would stay.

“Boys! It’s time!” Rita called and banged on the door at the same time and startled us.

Justin blinked at me, stared, didn’t say a word, and then he nodded. “We should go.”

Okay that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to happen, but he didn’t run, and I called that a small win.

Back in the main room, after makeup fussed around us, it was time for the final judging. I was nervous even though I felt confident after I received all the praise. My bake was perfect, the design on trend, the chocolate work impressive, and best of all, Courtney announced she wanted the same cake for her wedding next year. Justin’s was summed up as a triumph over disaster, the bake was excellent, the design ten out of ten, and I caught his soft smile when they left. He should be proud and have confidence in himself.

Pot, kettle, black, I told myself. Marc had knocked some of my confidence, but I shouldn’t rely on how others made me feel. I didn’t hear what they said about Clare, but she took it with fake grace when they put Justin and me through to the final and made me baker of the week. I actually wanted to go over to her and push her face into her bake, but she was hustled away, and I assume that was the last we’d see of her unless she came back for the next filming for the final like the other contestants would. I hoped not. When I turned to say that to Justin, he was gone, and my stomach fell. Clare had fucked up. The competition team had fucked up, and worst of all I had ruined everything, and we still had the final to film.

I looked for him everywhere, and in the end, there was only one place he could be. Wrapped up against the bitter cold I headed out straight for Jeremy. I didn’t see Justin at first. He was behind our snowman patching up holes with snow, and his eyes were bright.

“Hey.” I made him jump, and I’m not sure he expected me to find him.

“Hi,” he replied and then picked up some more snow and formed it into a ball, concentrating on the act as if his life depended on it.

“Did I fuck up?” That was the only way I knew how to handle this—head on and clear.

“Clare did.” Justin looked confused. “She was the one who thought cheating would guarantee a place and now all that means is that I get a place by default, and I didn’t earn it—”

I picked up snow and threw it at him, and it hit his chest dead center, shattering into a cloud of icy white. He stared down and then up, and with deadly accuracy, he