Page 82 of The Baking Games
I don’t know why she spells it out.
“Two minutes left!” The producer calls out. This feels like a prison visitation.
“Sadie, you’re a hopeless romantic,” she laughs.
“And you can’t see what’s right in front of you, sissy.”
“All I see is a competition I need to win so we can change our lives. That’s what I see.”
“You’re impossible,” Sadie says, groaning.
“How’s work?”
“It’s work. Dull and boring.”
“I’m going to do my best to win this for both of us, okay?”
“I know you will, sissy. You’ve never let me down a day in my life. Even if you don’t win, you still haven’t let me down. You’re my hero.”
Savannah wipes away some stray tears. I force myself not to walk over there and hug her.
What gets me is how Connor found her connection to her sister to be a bad thing. How is that even possible? Savannah and Sadie are best friends. I can see that with my own two eyes. Any man who wouldn’t encourage the woman he supposedly loves to have a great relationship with her sister is a selfish jerk. And yes, Connor is definitely that.
The two of them continue chatting until a producer calls time and ends the video just as they are blowing kisses at each other. It’s adorable, but I’m never telling her that.
“Okay, Rhett. You’re up!”
Savannah walks over as I stand up to give her the chair.
“Glad you got to do that, Sunny,” I say, smiling.
“Now it’s your turn,” she says, touching my arm. “Have fun!”
Sitting in front of the screen, I imagine what my mother will say. Will she say she’s proud of me for the first time? I guess it’s possible, but not probable. Maybe my dad will be there. We’re not close like you’d think a father and son would be, but maybe he’s proud of how I’m doing for once.
After a few moments, I realize no one is popping up on the screen for me. Producers are huddled in the corner talking, but I can’t tell what they’re saying. I glance at Savannah, who gives me an encouraging look. Something isn’t right here.
“Um, Rhett,” the producer says as she walks closer, “unfortunately, we weren’t able to connect with your loved one.”
I sit there a moment, trying to take in her words. “What does that mean? There’s a connection problem?”
She shifts back and forth on her feet like she’s uncomfortable. “No, not exactly.” Of course, a cameraman comes in close to get a good shot of the look on my face. This can’t be good.
“What’s going on?”
“Nobody showed up, Rhett.”
I feel like my lungs have caved in on themselves. I expected my mother wouldn’t be happy for me, and maybe she’d even say something negative on national television. Still, I never anticipated that no one in my family would show up for me.
“Oh.”
I don’t want to look at Savannah, but in this moment of feeling alone in the world, I can’t help it. She suddenly feels like a life jacket in the middle of a raging river. Nothing prepares me for looking over at her and seeing the sadness on her face. The empathy.
“I’ll give you a minute,” the producer says, leaving the room. It feels so dark and heavy here with just Savannah and me.
“Rhett, I’m so sorry.” She stands and walks closer. I stand because there’s no reason to sit. I’m not waiting for a video call. She reaches out to touch my arm, but I recoil.
“No. It’s fine. Let’s just get back to the competition.” I try to walk around her, but her tiny little frame somehow stands in my way. She moves closer, puts her arms around my waist, and presses her cheek into my chest. There are no words. She’s just there.