It had felt natural, inevitable.

How did you fight what was natural and inevitable?

The bubble of emptiness she’d been trying to breathe around for years pushed to the surface. She needed a win.

As she got back to the studio, for the first time in years she felt the adrenaline in her veins. Pushing away the kick of fear and anxiety, she reminded herself that she had cooked just fine in Paris. That she had only developed her phobia of cooking off-script after coming home to Curried Dreams, after letting someone run it into the ground.

Blood and guilt.

Keep your mind on Paris. Don’t think about the panic, she told herself as she made her way through the isolated lobby and to the green room. Everyone else was done with their hair and makeup and was already in the staging area. Jenny, the HMU artist, made quick work of Ashna’s face and touched up her bun.

“I wish you would leave it down,” Jenny said. “It’s so pretty.”

“Never in the kitchen,” Ashna told her. “My first boss would hunt me down.” Andre had sent her a text wishing her luck that morning, so she knew he would be watching the show.

Keep your mind on Paris.

The pulse of panic beat faintly in the pit of her stomach as she made her way into the studio. If she had a panic attack they would just have to roll her out on a stretcher.

God, were they going to have to roll her out on a stretcher?

The image of Rico being carried out of her restaurant sprang to life in her mind just as her eyes found him across the room. His athletic form was slumped over his phone at their kitchen station. He looked up and relief flooded his eyes at the sight of her.

Less than an hour ago this had felt impossible: being here, facing a cooking challenge.

He stepped toward her and something moved beneath the relief in his eyes like dark shadows.

“What happened?” she asked. “You’re in pain.”

He swallowed instead of answering.

She looked at his knee, hands itching with the need to touch him.

“I’m fine.” But the tightness around his eyes and mouth said he wasn’t.

“Aren’t your pain meds working?”

He didn’t answer, but she knew that look. How tiresome being a hero must be.

“Please tell me you’re taking them.” She wanted to shake him. “What’s wrong with you, Rico?” Pulling out her phone, she did what anyone in their family did when faced with pain and illness. She texted Trisha. “You have to speak to Trisha. She deals with a lot of people in pain, she can help.”

“I’m all set with the meds. Thank you.”