Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,83

the words he’d given to me last night. I still couldn’t believe that he’d told me he was falling in love with me, or that I’d told him I loved him outright. Now he was blinking at me, his tongue darting out to taste our kiss, and I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

“Good luck, Brody,” he murmured, and just when I thought we were done, he cupped my face and kissed me back. “Let’s do this thing.”

Makeup tutted. Apparently kissing was bad for the powder, but I don’t care what people thought. We teased and laughed our way through the cupcake round and as the world and his wife expected, Justin’s were perfect. Only not as perfect as the peck on the cheek he gave me in post-cupcake interviews live on camera.

Justin had won the cupcake round—his take on Christmas movies had included a tiny Die Hard tower with flames and a hand drawn chocolate bad guy falling from the top, suspended on the thinnest of cotton. Each cupcake was stunning, but it wasn’t just the design. It was that he’d thought outside the box and not only that but the bake itself, the most important part of the whole thing, was perfect. I snagged one when the cameras turned off, pulling the tiny chocolate terrorist off his cotton suspension and pushed him back in the small piped building. Justin tussled with me and pulled out the smallest John McLane I’d ever seen, complete with a white T-shirt.

“Yippee-ki-yay, mother—” I swallowed the rest of the words with a kiss and couldn’t fail to hear the collective awwwws from the crew. I didn’t care we were being watched because I was in love, and I wanted everyone to know it.

“Way to go, bro.” Adam high-fived me as I walked off to get my makeup fixed. My family was here in the wings, watching the process and to see the big final reveal. It was good to see a friendly face even if the rest of the gang had been hustled away to the Green Room by an efficient Rita. Justin was behind me. I tugged him forward, and he and Adam shook hands. I waited for fireworks, but there was nothing but strong shaking, back slaps, and the exchange of quotes from Die Hard.

“It’s not even a Christmas movie,” I interrupted them.

Both turned to me with open mouths.

“How are you even my twin?” Adam gasped.

“How do I even like you?” Justin added.

Then the two of them sniggered at me, and yet another piece of my broken heart healed.

The second bake that day, the blind bake, was a simple chocolate raspberry Charlotte Royale. A deep chocolate cake and ganache formed into a dome, with a creamy raspberry mousse interior. Justin might have won the cupcake challenge, but I beat him with the Charlotte Royale. Everything went right, and even though we both aced the challenge, my mousse was smoother. Just that tiny thing was enough to have us draw at one all.

So, it was the cake on the second day of filming that was going to be the decider. With twenty-four hours to prep, the theme we’d been given was simply Christmas. That was it. Just a single word that could be interpreted in any way. I’d chosen a wintry forest where each tree was covered in lights. Justin decided to go the more traditional route with a tree and presents wrapped under it. I didn’t care who was going to win because we’d spent all last night talking about falling for each other and making lists of how we were going to make things work. I already knew what I wanted. More dates, Justin spending time in Corning, me going to the city, splitting our time and exploring this mad thing that had consumed us.

Not to mention he’d made me watch Die Hard, and I had to finally agree that yes, it was a Christmas film. Although to be honest, with the kisses he was trailing down my body, I would have agreed to anything.

The problems with my Christmas themed bake started with a bake where two of the layers dipped in the middle. I never had cakes that sunk, that just didn’t happen to me, but I cut them down, worked with what I had, and tasted the bake which was good. God knows what went wrong, but that was live TV. But then there were issues with the addition of the delicate string of LED lights to my trees.