Judge Me, Abby Knox [i love reading txt] 📗

pulled some of that money out of your own ass to bring her here for yourself, instead of involving the show! What was the reason for not giving someone with true talent an opportunity?”

Harlow sweeps her manicured hands in the air. “Oh, calm down. I’ve just come to tell you that I’ve been watching some of the footage in the editing room, and this is the most hilarious episode ever. We want to stretch it out to three, four more episodes at least. Hell, there’s no reason we can’t make it a whole season. Eliminate people. It’ll be tremendous.”

Harlow’s excitement over my deliberate manipulations is now going too far. I can’t wait another whole day to have Chloe all to myself.

“No. I’m not putting Chloe through an elimination. It’s too much. I refuse.”

The executive producer thinks about what I’ve said. We stare at each other for a moment, having a silent standoff.

Finally, Harlow shrugs. “Fine. Whatever keeps you happy, Phillip. People are already going to love this episode, so we can do an entire American season next year if you’d like. Consider this a trial run.”

I nod. “What would make me happy is finishing this bloody shoot.”

Chapter Eleven

Chloe

We’re halfway through the cake-making contest today, and I’ve yet to see Phillip anywhere. Golly, I hope he hasn’t been fired because of me. I would never forgive myself.

Meanwhile, all this stress is making me forget things. There are only three more hours to create a magnificent three-tiered cake representing our dreams, and I don’t even have my batter perfect yet. All the others have their cakes in the oven already.

All of a sudden, Phillip stalks into the ballroom as if nothing is amiss. His presence does offer me a boost of confidence, and I can recall everything I’m supposed to do. I finally slide the cakes into the oven and get started on making my icing.

That’s the easy part because it’s all going to be white.

By the time the buzzer sounds, I’ve just placed the bride and groom gingerbread cookies on top of the cake. The bride has long brown hair and green eyes like mine; the groom has silver hair made of glitter and ice-blue eyes and holds a rolling pin. The bride is holding a little tiny love note made of edible paper with a special message.

The judging commences, and of course, I’m dead last. Everyone knows Daisy is going to win. Her library cake has gold-leafed books, and she’s even molded a tiny edible rolling ladder.

When it’s finally my turn, my cake is so heavy that one of the assistant producers offers to help me bring it to the judging table.

“And what do we have here?” Phillip asks the question as if he doesn’t already know.

“It’s my wedding cake. It contains all of my hopes and dreams.”

Georgianne looks as if she could eat a horse. “My goodness, you’ve certainly changed course and improved your decorating skills. What do we have here, gingerbread?” She reaches for the bride, and I realize this is not going as planned.

“Wait!” I exclaim, but Georgianne is already biting the cookie, and Phillip is cutting them each a piece of the cake.

Georgianne takes a second bite as the tiny love note falls from the bride and lands on the table.

“What’s this?” she asks.

I blurt, “That’s for Phillip!”

Phillip squints at me, but I see the playfulness tugging at his frowning lips. He can’t help himself. He’s going to smile at me on camera. “For me?” he asks.

He picks up the tiny piece of paper and unfolds it. “Now you’re making me look old; I have to use my reading glasses for this.”

“Oops,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand. Will that mishap earn me a paddling later? Golly, I hope so. I feel warm and tingly below the waist already.

With his glasses in place, Phillip reads the note. “Phillip, Will You Marry Me.”

I hear some of the contestants make swooning noises. Others are so over me and my pursuit of this man that they groan. But I don’t pay any mind to anyone’s reaction but Phillip’s.

“What is this, edible paper and ink?”

“Yes, Daddy. I mean! Yes, y-yes, sir.”

I’m half blind with embarrassment at my slip of the tongue. People are cackling. Even the clueless Georgianne is finally catching on. “Oh my, you’re a cheeky one.”

Phillip wags the note at me.

“Now I must paddle you for this, darling. Because it’s me who gets to propose first.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Georgianne gasps, finally catching on. People around us are making all sorts of noise, and I don’t know if they’re on our side or not. And I don’t care.

Phillip reaches into his suit pocket and then thinks better of it, grabbing my hand. “No. Not here. Come on.”

We’re out the door of the ballroom and nearly sprinting down the grand staircase and headed out the back door, straight for the rose garden. The sky is gray, and clouds are gathering, but all I feel in my heart is sunshine.

To my astonishment, he leads me back to the exact spot where he found me three days ago. Only this time, it’s starting to rain. Because England.

Phillip gets down on one knee in his fine suit and pulls out a little blue box.

I don’t even see what’s inside, but a blur of silver and pink.

“I was kidding, love. I’m happy you asked. Now, will you marry me?”

First, my hands shake. My whole world is changing before my eyes. Just like the last time I stood in this garden, my knees buckle. And just like last time, Phillip catches me.

He wraps me in a giant hug and we tumble to the ground, laughing.

The laughing turns into kissing, and the kissing grows in intensity as a gentle rain spritzes us.

Before things go too far, I pull away from his kiss to remind him he’s ruining his suit.

“Fuck it; I’ve got a closet full of suits.”

“Phillip. That’s very wasteful.”

“Maybe you can help me with that,” he says.

“Sure.”

“Oh, also, you’re