And then the camera shifted to London.
Dahlia didn’t remember seeing London’s reaction in that moment. She’d been too busy getting back to work, trying to act serious.
She had missed that London openly glared at Tavish. Flushed cheeks, that clenched jaw, eyes like knives. Like London wanted to punch him. For her.
Dahlia paused the episode, heart hammering.
She opened her mouth, feeling slightly wild. Maybe her mom had inspired her. Dahlia could speak surprising truths into the air, too.
“That person there? London?” Dahlia said, her chest squeezing when she said their name out loud. “I’m in love with them.”
Her mom released a small gasp, brought a hand to her mouth.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh.” And then, after a beat, “And they’re . . . oh.”
“Yeah.” Dahlia inferred her meaning. “I’m queer. I guess I never told you that.”
“No,” her mom said. “No, you didn’t. But thank you for telling me now.”
Dahlia laughed suddenly, a funny croaking sound, like it came from deep in her gut.
“And Hank said I never tell you things! Take that, Hank.”
Her mom released a small, nervous giggle of her own but sobered quickly, her hand now resting on her chest.
“Thank you, Dahlia,” she said again, “for telling me.”
Dahlia picked up the remote, but her mom quickly snaked her hand out to cover hers, telling her to wait. Dahlia glanced over. Her mom’s face looked puzzled, like she was working something out.
“Dahlia,” she said. “You’ve barely touched your phone since I’ve been here. You haven’t called or even texted anyone.”
“Way to rub my thrilling social life in my face, Mom.”
“No, no.” Her mom waved a hand at her in irritation. “Dahlia. I am honored and a little shocked that you just told me this, but . . . have you told London that you’re in love with them?”
Dahlia stared down at her toes.
The excuses she had made to herself back in LA seemed to wither. She knew none of them would make sense if she said them out loud to her mother.
“No.”
Dahlia’s mom crossed her arms over her chest.
“Well. Dahlia Grace Woodson, if you don’t take that whole speech I just gave you and put it to some good use here, I will be disappointed in you.”
And then Dahlia actually laughed.
You’ve always known what you wanted.
And even more than that, you follow through on getting it.
Dahlia chewed her lip.
Could she . . . ?
Would London . . . ?
Oh, god.
Oh, god, she was going to try anyway.
She stood, feeling halfway like she might pass out, halfway like she could run a marathon. Or, all right. At least a 5K. “Okay,” she said. “I think I might have an idea.”
“Of course you do,” her mother said smoothly.
Dahlia walked to the door and shoved her feet in her shoes.
“So . . . I’m going back to Food Lion. Yeah. Okay. That’s what I’m going to do.” She nodded, her confidence inching higher as she talked to herself, slowly but surely. “I only need a few more ingredients.”
Dahlia found her sunglasses and car keys and gestured to the TV.
“Feel free to keep watching, if you want. I know what happens.”
“Dahlia?” her mom called when she was already halfway out the door. Dahlia turned on her heel.
“Yeah?”
Her mom stood and searched through her purse before shoving a twenty-dollar bill in Dahlia’s hands.
“Would you mind picking up a bottle of wine? It’s been quite the day.”
Dahlia smiled.
“Sure, Mom.”
And then she was gone.
London flopped heavily onto their bed, face-first, upon returning to their hotel room Monday night. They screamed dully into their pillow.
Today, in short, sucked.
It had sucked hard.
They had been so ready to get back to set this morning. It was the only place London felt any semblance of normal now. The challenges had started to feel almost easy, now that there wasn’t anything left on set to distract them.
So easy that London was sailing right into the finale. The Final Face-Off.
They only had one competitor left to beat.
And it wasn’t Cath.
London had already been picturing it, they realized. Two misfit queers who could cook for all they were worth. Now that would be a Chef’s Special finale to look forward to. An openly nonbinary pansexual and a woman as obviously gay as the day was long? Invite Carly Rae Jepsen and hang rainbow flags from the rafters.