Wouldn’t it be nice if whoever was in the other kitchen just tossed their white flour sack towel into the air and said, “Nope. Think I’m done.” And then Martin awarded me the winner without the next grueling eight-hour task?

“I thought so,” he said.

A girl can dream.

“Here are the guidelines.” As Martin began to explain, two men in black chef jackets wheeled in a whiteboard with the details printed on it. “You’ll have eight hours. Each of you has been assigned an assistant. Your assistant is an accomplished sous chef from our own Four Square Restaurant here in Manhattan. They’re here to assistant you in any way you see fit.”

Kelly heard the door open to the studio, and in walked a young man in a white chef’s coat. “Hi, Thank you so much. I’m Kelly.”

“I know. I’ve been watching you. I’m excited to be here to help. I’m Randy.”

“So nice to meet you. Thank you.”

“The dimensions of your entry,” Martin continued, “from the table to the top of whatever is tallest on your masterpiece can be no shorter than twenty-three inches, and no taller than forty-seven inches. Any original recipe will do, so bring out a twist. You’ll display your whole entry as one. Afterward, we’ll pull eight servings. Six for the judges—our three judges from the previous rounds and three celebrity judges. One serving for me, in case of a tie, and one piece for the competition to try.”

Kelly was already doing the math in her head. She knew from experience that her multi-layer cakes she made every day of the week measured a whopping eight inches tall. The height was what everyone commented on, and no matter how thin you sliced that cake the customer felt like they’d gotten a whopper of a piece. She’d need three of those to get to the minimum height.

Was taller better? Probably more impressive.

“The theme this Valentine’s Day is…”

A drum roll vibrated through the studios.

“Marry Me.”

The audience applauded, and through it all Kelly heard a laugh that reminded her of Andrew’s. She shook the interrupting thought. Surely it was the Marry Me theme taunting her memory, since Andrew was the only man to ever say those two words to her. Her nose tickled, and for a fleeting second she thought she might tear up. He’s in town. Is it possible he’d come to see the show being taped live? He’d be shocked to see me standing here on stage.

Until recently she thought she was living their dream, but now seeing him again, in her kitchen, in her house, then here on the street in New York—it was like he’d been the missing piece all along.

The clock that rose above the white board at the front of her kitchen lit up.

08:00:00