going to crash?”
“Apparently ThinkX and Quantum Cyber have it under control,” Lilith said. “Owen Frost and two of the Svenssons are overseeing the voting. They have a whole war room set up like it’s a military operation.”
I looked down at my phone to see a particularly nasty insult pop up on the Facebook feed.
“Baking and Christmas are serious business, apparently.”
“Your comment on not liking Christmas didn’t help matters,” Lilith reminded me.
“More like gasoline on a Victorian candle-lit Christmas tree,” Emma joked.
“How are my chances?”
“The bookies say Keeley is the favorite to win.”
“Crap.”
“Hey, at least you’re nabbing the internship,” Lilith said.
At that moment, my phone rang, displaying a number with a California area code.
My heart pounded.
“Morticia speaking,” I answered, trying to stay cool.
“Ah, Morticia, this is Zarah with the Getty Museum.”
“Hi,” I said. “I’m so glad you called.”
“I wanted to personally give you the news,” Zarah began.
Lilith and Emma were silently jumping up and down with joy.
“We are not offering you the scholarship or the internship. I wanted to have a woman-to-woman talk about that,” she said forcefully.
“Wait, what, why? Why are you not offering it?” I begged, feeling like I was going to pass out.
“You were on the top of our list,” Zarah said. “Your art piece was powerful, evocative, and rule breaking, and we loved it. And your resumé, especially with your involvement in the Art Zurich Biennial Expo in Harrogate, was also a huge selling point.”
“Right,” I said weakly. “Then why…”
“However,” Zarah said, “when we heard that you weren’t planning on accepting, obviously we went with the next candidate.”
“Wait!” I cried. “That’s not—”
“You cannot rearrange your life because of a man,” Zarah lectured. “Jonathan may be rich, hot, and good in bed, but you can’t throw away your ambitions just because he wants you to sacrifice your career so you can support him in his shady endeavors.”
“I was going to accept,” I said hoarsely. “I wanted this opportunity. Why would you think I wasn’t going to accept?”
“Interesting,” Zarah said. “When I talked to your boyfriend at the Christmas party the other night, he was very emphatic that he had a job for you and that there was absolutely no way you were accepting that internship. He said you were staying with him.”
“I—” I couldn’t breathe, let alone talk.
“I hope you make better choices in the future,” Zarah said in a clipped tone. “Once you come to your senses, you’re free to apply next year.”
“Oh my god,” I said, sinking to the floor. “That bastard! That fucking prick!”
Lilith wrapped her arms around me.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” I choked out. “He ruined my life; he ruined my dream.”
“It’s okay to cry,” Emma said, rubbing my back.
“I’m not going to cry,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
That fucker.
64
Johnathan
Morticia and Keeley stood in front of the judges’ table a few hours later. Morticia looked unhappy. I smiled at her, but she turned away from me.
“Bake-off fans, we have the votes tallied. Thanks to everyone for a wonderful season and to all our contestants for participating,” Anastasia said to the cameras. “Just to remind everyone, on the line are bragging rights, a cash bonus, and Jonathan, who is the real prize.”
As Anastasia opened the envelope, I held my breath. It had to be Morticia. I wanted the perfect Christmas with the woman I loved.
“The winner is Keeley! Congratulations!” Anastasia said.
Keeley jumped up and down, screaming. “Oh my god!” she squealed. “I won! I won!” She grabbed the microphone from Anastasia. “I just want to thank all my fans and everyone who voted for me. You made it possible for me to meet the love of my life.”
Morticia’s expression didn’t changed. What was she thinking?
“Baby!” Keeley yelled, tottering over to me in her high heels. “We’re going to have such a merry Christmas.”
I couldn’t look at her; I could only look at Morticia. Was she heartbroken? She didn’t seem to be. Her face was a porcelain mask.
“Morticia, do you have anything you want to say to the fans?” Anastasia offered.
Morticia looked straight at the camera. “Jonathan and Keeley deserve each other and this bullshit holiday.” Then she turned and stalked out.
I wanted to run after her, but Keeley had me in a vise grip. When I finally disentangled myself, I ran into the hallway, looking wildly for Morticia. She was tightening the belt on her black trench coat.
“Morticia!” I called. I knew she had heard me, because she flinched but then pushed through the double doors and headed outside.
“Morticia, wait!” I called, running to