Judgement time. And all three of them took their places, regarding anxious gingerbread artists implacably and holding the fate of the world in their verdict.
Nate was clutching Rosie’s hand and unashamed of it. They’d done their best. He was proud of what they’d made; he was proud to be here, having come this far, in his first televised national competition.
Marcus came in quietly and stood at the back, out of view of the cameras. His expression was unreadable.
“Well.” Emily steepled fingers. “We did have some debate—honestly, this was very close. Eric even said he thinks either of you could’ve won, in a different year. Even against him.”
They all laughed. Mostly out of nerves.
“But we do have to select a winner,” Miranda took up, gentle and stern. “And that winner demonstrated except
