Page 24 of The Baker's Dozen

“Hey?” She tilts her head, biting back her own smile as she looks me over.

Andshit, if I don’t want to shrink beneath her knowing gaze.

Setting my purse atop my desk, I feign nonchalance. “You’re in early today.”

Lisa’s eyes narrow. “How do you manage to do that?”

“What?”

“Look like you got a full eight hours of sleep when I can tell by that hickey on your neck and the fact you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes that you definitely did not.”

My eyes widen and my hand flies to my neck—

But which side?

Could be both. Shit.

Lisa snorts. “Jesusssssss, Sophia. How old are you? Who gets hickeys at our age?” She waves her hand toward me and laughs. “Stop freaking out. I was kidding… but now I know I was right.” Lisa pushes the chair back and stands, eyes narrowing as she circles the desk and comes to stand in front of me, leaning her bottom against the edge of the desktop. Holding my gaze, she crosses her arms over her chest. “So, that begs the question… exactly wheredoyou have hickeys?”

The better question is where do Inothave hickeys, but I’m not about to saythatout loud.

“Sophia,” Lisa whispers, “tell me everything, you dirty bird.”

I grin and give her a shrug. “You’ll have to wine and dine me first.” Stepping past her, I walk behind the desk and sit down. “Speaking of dirty birds, how’s Max?”

Lisa grins, then fans herself. “Oomph. That boy.” She plops into a seat across from me and winks. “Why I ever dated men our age, I have no idea. The young ones have way more stamina.”

“Oh my God.” I shake my head, gaze flicking to the open door, then back to Lisa. “What do you think?” I motion to the stack of twenty-three men we picked yesterday, just in case she thought I wanted details about her night with bartender Max. “Was that a fever dream, or did we really decide on these guys?”

“We did.” She nods. “And we did a good job. They all seem perfect, Soph.”

My chest swells with pride at her words and I find myself nodding, unable to speak. This is it.

Lisa’s next task is to call them all, give them the good news, and then instruct each finalist to meet us at the hotel downtown where the next part of the casting process takes place this afternoon. By the end of today, if all goes well, we’ll have our thirteen finalists. Our baker’s dozen.

“Holy shit,” I whisper. “Is this really happening?”

“Yeah, buddy.” Lisa grins and reaches for the stack. “Ready?”

With a deep breath, I nod.

Because Iamready.

Terrified, but ready.

With mere minutes until one o’clock, Lisa and I stand in the restroom outside the hotel’s banquet rooms, freshening up before we join the panel of judges I selected for this most important step of the process.

Today, the contestants will cook.

Excited butterflies flutter away in my stomach; there’s a weightless feeling in my head; and my guts won’t stop churning.

But these are all to be expected, and I am beyond grateful to have my best friend by my side.

She swipes beneath my eyes with a wet paper towel now, tending to me as I stare at myself in the mirror and my mind goes a million miles a minute. Yes, I have already cried today. And I expect more tears as this thing gets off the ground.

Tears of joy, fear, and occasionally panic.

“Have I forgotten anything?”

---