Tonight had the potential to be one of the most important days in my life. But at the rate it's going, the day isn't ending up as I hoped for. Spending a four-hour conversation with my lawyers who got paid two hundred every half-hour only to find out the case wasn't going my way put a big damper on things.

My lawyer, Jefferson, is offering a cash settlement to keep us from going to the courts and erasing this arrest from my record. However, the paparazzi were being extremely greedy, turning down all five of my offers and demanding we go ahead in front of a judge. Since they had public footage of my outburst, getting a fat check was basically secured if we went ahead to trial.

According to TMZ, the victim was suffering from emotional and physical trauma, which favored their case. The last of my worries was the money I would have to owe; what I'm really worried about was whether I'll be detained in prison. From the stories I heard, I don't think I'll last in prison.

Who would've thought by the age of twenty-three I would become a felony? I always thought my father would get thrown in there for being abusive instead, I'm the one. I lost myself for a few days, and my whole life changed in an instant. Around Davina, I tried acting as if it wasn't a big deal to keep her from freaking out.

But I'm shitty bricks at the idea of being thrown in prison.

I could never come back from that.

However, one thing could be my lifeline for the day. Two things, actually. Davina always had a way of making everything disappear, as if we were the only two people in the world. These days, I've been needing that. But besides Davina, tonight we were filming the semi-finals for who moved onto the finals.

Tonight, Davina, Wesley, Estefania, Robbie, and I had a chance to be eliminated and lose the prize. Wesley and Davina were a shoo-in. They're favored by the judges and had never been to the bottom two during the duration of the show. I, however, almost got eliminated two weeks ago after my father's passing. I wasn't in the right headspace and overcooked the veal.

But I wouldn't fuck-up tonight.

"Everyone get to your stations," Elton announced, zooming around the area as if he was one of those car toys. "We're starting in three... two... one."

The host Felica had her brown hair whooped up in a bun along with a crispy trimmed tuxedo, which was risky to wear in the kitchen. "Welcome everyone back to the Competition Of The Century!" The fake audience played in the background. "How's everyone feeling tonight? Excited? Nervous? Scared? Estefania?"

The cameramen shifted onto her. "Ah... a bit nervous. The competition has gotten tougher with each round. It's really intimidating to be up against incredible chefs like the iconic Davina and can't forget to mention the five-week first-place chef Wesley. I really have to bring my A-game if I want to make it into the final three." Estefania smiled her pearly whites at them.

"I'm wishing you all the luck! All of you," Felicia stated, keeping her grin bright as the intense lights. "Should we start with tonight's theme?"

Everyone cheered.

"Cut!" Elton shouted as everyone's smile disappeared from their faces.

Estefania and Robbie were death glaring at each other before sending each other the birdie. Wesley mouthed a statement to Davina, who burst out laughing and collapsed onto her countertop. The universe had committed a crime to have me in the furthest kitchen away from my co-stars. Especially Davina.

Just like that, it was like she heard me.

Her enchanting blue-green irises meant mine, sending a whirl of flutters in my stomach simply from her beauty. She formed a heart with her fingers and sent a flying kiss in my direction. Some of my cheesiness must've rubbed off on her; I guess that's the effect of being my girlfriend. And I loved it. I caught the kiss and placed it in my pocket.

To keep it securely forever.

Davina mouthed, 'I miss you.'

I smiled and repeated the same back expect with a million more misses.

"3,2,1 Action!" Elton shouted, and I dreaded looking away from Davina because I couldn't get enough of her. Seriously, I'm starting to think it's getting unhealthy how crazy I am about her. Who would've thought my enemy would become the greatest thing in my life?

Felicia stood in front of a fireplace, the red, orange flames drifting into the air as she held a wooden stick stuffed with marshmallows. A light verdant blanket hovered over her shoulders, showing a sense of consolation and peace.

"If you guys couldn't guess already! Today's theme is Comfort food!" Fake applause grew louder. "We want all of you guys to dig deep in your souls, picture yourself relaxing with a pina colada in one hand and a book in the other. What would be your comfort food? What food makes you feel like I'm feeling? Cuddle up to a loved one..." Felicia giggled, hugging the couch until the camera panned over to us.

I flashed a closed-lip grin.

"Chefs, you guys have two hours to prepare your favorite comfort food to present for the judges. Spend the next few minutes thinking hard. This round will be your last chance to prove to the judges why you guys deserve the title of Best Champion Chef," Felicia delivered with a strict edge.

Dozen of foods wandered through my mind like a fashion catalog. My mind went through every page, but there wasn't anything that called me. I like to think of edibles as a siren call; intoxicating voices that put you in a trace. The same thing happened to me, but with food.

Mac and cheese.

No.

Pot Roast.

No.

Meatloaf.

No.

Then, in a blink of an eye, sirens went off in my head along with a bright lightbulb. Birria tacos; it's traditional an addictive, sweet, sour, slightly spicy, and utterly savory Mexican beef-stew that's cooked until beef is tender and falls apart juicy. The best part was whoever's idea it was to stuff it in tacos. It's fucking amazing, I swear.

"Chefs, the time is starting...Now!" Felicia waved her blue flag, signaling us to tackle each other by the refrigerator.

With a closed grin, I sauntered over to the refrigerator, searching for guajillo peppers, chipotle peppers, crushed tomatoes, garlic, dried oregano, cab sirloin, etc. These were only the ingredients needed for the marinade. There was still a ton more shit I required. However, my attention span was like a baby, and I glanced over at my captivating girlfriend.

Lord oh mighty, I wanted to take her right then and there with the way she was nibbling on her lips. Surrendering to my desires, I planted a big smooch on her cheek, causing her blue doe-eyes to widen in shock. Her cheeks grew pink as I assaulted her with kisses on her cheeks, forehead, nose, jawline, and neck.

Davina giggled cutely. "Is this your tactic to get me off my game?"

I gasped, dramatically. "Now, why would you think that? I just wanted to kiss my girlfriend. If it just so happens to mess you up, then it's a bonus."

She narrowed her eyes. "Well, it's definitely working, so stop it."

"No." I pouted, mimicking her expressions. "I'll stop once you stop."

A crease emerged between her eyebrows. "Stop wha-?"

With my hand cupping her face, I smashed our mouths together, meeting in the hottest kiss on the planet. Arousal flooded through my veins, spreading outward, dancing through my body, and tingling in all my amorous zones. Our lips moved against each other like it was meant to be; as if she was my peanut butter and I was the jelly. It didn't take long for Davina to surrender, slanting her head back and I drove the kiss deep, enjoying the minty flavor of her infused my tongue.

Felicia whistled. "Woah, the lovebirds are getting steamy in the background!" She fanned herself as she forced herself between our very compassionate kiss. "Did you guys get that?"

Davina's eyes widened. "Oh my god, we've used ten minutes up of us just standing here like idiots."

I coughed awkwardly as the cameras solely focused on us. "T-that's probably was a bad idea..."

With twenty minutes thrown in the gutter, I retreated to my station with all the supplies in my basket. I turned the heat, leaving it on the medium setting, and dropped my dried guajillo to soak. Meanwhile, I sliced the sirloin into cube chunks and seasoned them with salt and pepper.

In a large pot placed over medium-high heat, I seared both sides of my sliced meats, which had to be done in batches. They couldn't stay any longer than three minutes or it would affect their texture. Once the meat was wrapped away, I dropped chiles, tomatoes, onion, spices, and garlic in the pot. I watched the pot and Davina intently, getting a bit lost in her swiftness around the kitchen.

I don't think she even realized how amazing she was. People like her were extraordinary; they had a million things they were outstanding at and held the world in their hands. All she had to do was take a leap and fall into the wonders the universe had to offer her.

My eyes widened at my overflowing pot as the hot water trickled on my hand. That shit fucking burned, but I couldn't spend time bandaging my hand. This was the semi-finals, and I had to do everything I could to make it through. Turning off the heat, I transferred everything over to a blender, along with a cup of beef broth, until it resembled baby food.

In the same pot, I brought over the seasoned meat, bay leaves, cinnamon sticks, and cloves to marinade. I poured the liquid from the blender over the meat, allowing it enough time to penetrate in before I had to plate it. While the instant pot focused on that, I warmed up corn tortillas as I glanced up to see three minutes left.

Using my elbow to wipe the sweat rolling down my forehead, I shredded the beef with two forks and add another cup of beef broth. For an extra kick, I minced up onion, cilantro, into a mixing bowl and drenched it with lime.

"One minute chefs," Felica announced.

My heart pounded a mile per second from her announcement. The corn tortilla slipped from my trembling fingers, but luckily, it went straight into the sauce. After lathering each side, I spooned a handful of shredded meat and a sprinkle of Oaxaca cheese.

"Forty-five seconds," Felicia declared, sending my nerves haywire.

I repeated the routine until each judge had three tacos. However, with a time crunch, I didn't have any seconds to spare to melt the cheese, which was the best part. At least to me. Then my eyebrows jumped as I remembered about the blowtorch by the equipment.

"Thirty seconds!"

I dashed over to the cabinets, furiously scanning through the dozens of apparatus until my fire-blowing baby caught my eye.

"Twenty seconds!"

My stomach swirled a mixture of excitement and anxiety. As I torched the cheese, I thought about all the incredible things I could receive if I won this title. It was so close. I could taste its richness.

"Five seconds!"

Quickly, I balanced all the plates on my hands and rushed over to the judging table. Whoever didn't place their food here was unable to continue nor get critiqued by the judges. It only happened once to Eric in the third round, who hardly enjoyed the journey we've been on. Davina sent a thumbs up in my direction as I used my towel to wipe away all the icky sweat.

The judges praised every single chef tonight, making it seem like it was going to be a tough call. But finally, it was my turn, and I was pretty optimistic about how this would turn out. One thing I never understood was why were judges used forks and knives to eat a taco. It's a yummy, comfort finger food meant to get all over your chin from the juiciness.

Ingrid, an older judge with her gray hair tied in a braid, draping over her shoulders, took a bite, her expression staying stern. Derrick, a well-dressed chef of twenty years, shifted awkwardly in his seat after tasting my taco. Lastly, Izzie kept her bright smile as her eyes wavered once the taco entered her mouth.

Melinda began, "Birria tacos are a pretty adventurous selection. Why did you choose this for your final showdown?"

I cleared my throat. "I thought what's more comfortable than eating tacos? It would always be one of my first ideas to cook when I had friends over or brought food to an event. Everyone commented on how it brought flavors you could find at home. Quick and easy."

Derrick nodded. "The meat is a bit grainy. It takes away from the exquisite flavors you presented. When I heard you were making Birria tacos, I was concerned about the meat and I'm sad to say it isn't up to your usual standard, Ambrose. For a perfect Birria, the meat needs to be tender, and I think you needed another hour to achieve that."

I cringed from the way his words twisted my stomach into a jumble bucket of knots.

Izzie wore a bright grin. "Hey Ambrose, I will have to agree with Derrick about the texture. It isn't as pleasant as the other dishes, but I did enjoy the flavors. Even the smaller ones like cumin and oregano were easy to distinguish, but the texture really brings this dish down. I'm disappointed. I've been rooting for you during this entire competition."

Her words impaled my chest, and I winced. "Thank you, Chef Izzie."

Ingrid coughed. Her plate was in distress as she ripped the taco piece by piece. "Honestly, the flavors are lacking as well. I think you must've left the pot boiling a bit too long because this pepper tasted a bit overcooked. This is quite funny compared to your undercooked meat and I refuse to eat. I'm sad to watch you burn today, Ambrose."

I gulped. "Thank you, Chef Ingrid."

My ego was in pieces. For a second, I thought I could make it that I could become a person I'm proud to be. But these professional chefs were evidence of how way over my head I was about opening a restaurant, about creating signature meals, about being the man Davina would be proud to be seen with. My breath grew ragged as I felt a panic rise in my ribcage and the sensation of crying grew stronger.

"The judges will take a few minutes to deliberate who will not be making the finale," Felicia said.

"Cut!" Elton shouted, giving the judges privacy to come up with their decision.

"Ambrose..." Davina stepped forward, her jaw stiff and her eyes gleaming with guilt.

I crammed my palms into my eyes and breathed away gut-churning nausea. "Don't give me that look, D."

Fear inflated in my abdomen. I wrapped my arms around Davina's smaller frame, pulling her into a strong embrace until the stiff line down her spine loosened. She buried her face in her hands, pressing her forehead against my chest.

"Everything is going to be fine," Davina said, her voice wavering. "I mean, Estefania didn't get the best reviews, so there's still a chance. You will make it to the final, Ambrose. I'll make sure of it."

I kissed the crown of her head. "Don't do anything drastic. I fucked up and if it's my time to go, then so be it. I'll still be on the sidelines supporting you, especially against these losers you're up against."

Davina glanced upward, her lip quivering. "You're going to make it through."

"Contestants returned to your assigned places," Elton shouted through the air horn while the judges returned to their seats. "3...2...1!"

My pulse quickened unpleasantly.

Ingrid stared at her paper. "There have been two amazing meals tonight, which was from Chef Davina with her cheesy broccoli pasta and Wesley's mixed mushroom soup with halloumi. Both dishes attack the theme straight on and didn't fail in nearly anything. For Davina, that dish could come off cheap but with your technique, it made it gourmet, which is why you're the winner for today and we will be seeing you in the finals. Along with Wesley!" A round of applause came from the sound effects and us.

Izzie's familiar smile dropped, her eyes filling up with dread. "Tonight, I've been given the hardest job of having to let two of you guys go. We've enjoyed tasting and watching each of you grow, but sometimes growth isn't enough." Izzie sniffled, wiping her tears. "This is why I didn't want to do it. I hate being the bearer of bad news, but one chef that's saying goodbye tonight is... Eric."

The camera panned over to Eric. "I figured. Thank you guys for giving me this opportunity to show the world my cooking skills. I've made incredible long-time friends on this journey and I'm honored to be in front of such amazing chefs, including our own Davina." He bowed. "Thank you, everyone."

Eric waved goodbye as he exited the doors.

"Now for the truly hard part." Izzie sighed. "I'm completely shocked! We all are from these results. Estefania's dish had conflicting flavors, which were always her biggest obstacle since day one. We would love to say it has gotten better, but the dishes always seem to be fighting with each other. On the other hand, Ambrose has been a strong, consistent chef. His concentration has been declining the past weeks from personal obstacles, but the dishes remained delicious. However, tonight, it was undoubtedly the worst one."

A film of moisture glossed over my eyes.

Izzie licked her lips. "So, who should make it through? The chef who's been struggling since day one? Or the chef that disappointed us the most by thinking this was acceptable? I'm deeply sorry to say the chef we're letting go of is...

Ambrose."

My name? Did I hear that right? With my heart drumming in my ear, I must've misheard. But from the sympathetic glances around me, I made the connection that I hadn't.

"I volunteer!" Davina shouted, stepping forward.

A crease formed between Ingrid's eyebrows. "For?"

Davina swiped at her cheeks as her chin quivered. "I want to give up my spot for Ambrose."

"Oh, hell no!" I swallowed hard.

Guilty eyes searched my face, wide from her lack of understanding. "I don't deserve to be in the first place. It's not even fair to compare my dishes to everyone else's when I have experience and know what judges look for. You guys should give this to someone who's earned it, like Ambrose."

My chest constricted at the sight of her tears, and I quit breathing. "D, I appreciate this, but I don't deserve that place. You deserve to go to the finals and show everyone that Davina never left. You need to fight hard and beat this broccoli head. He's an underdog and you know how that goes."

Davina giggled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But I don't even care. I was fucking around for the last two hours. I didn't even try. I didn't care enough to try. You worked so hard, I watched you through the whole thing and it's a shame that they're letting you go after one mistake."

I nodded my head weakly. "That's just how the cookie crumbles. Regardless, I don't hold any ill feelings towards anyone. I'm extremely truly grateful my best friend admitted me to this competition, and I got chosen. This competition wasn't only fun but very eye-opening. I had a lot of things occur off-camera that have altered my life for best or for worse. But I'm just grateful I stayed here long enough. It was only a dream that I could beat out everyone."

Davina's cries grew louder even if she tried muffling them with her palm. I was having a hard enough time keeping it together and her emotions weren't helping. My eyes burned, and my throat ached, and it hurt everywhere.

"It was an honor for us to meet you, Ambrose. I think your future is really bright." Izzie flashed a lopsided smile, her eyes bloodshot from crying.

I bowed as I untied my apron. "Thank you, everyone."

Melancholy clawed at my chest as I exited the double doors, the tears of sorrow inches from escaping my eyes. I've always been judged for being emotional like it was a crime for a man to show any sign of sadness. But I truly thought I had a chance to win this, to become something, to move on to greater things.

But everything seemed to be tumbling down like a house of cards.

A random hand landed on my shoulder. "Hey, Ambrose... do you think we could discuss something?"

"Sure?"

Milo wore a tough expression, his eyebrows pulled tight, and his lips remained straight, emotionless. "Has Davina mentioned a conversation I had with her when you were arrested?"

My mind went blank. "Nothing comes to mind."

He tugged at the back of his hair. "Davina has a remarkable year to look forward to once this competition is done, but something is blocking her success. Or someone. And I'm sorry to say, Ambrose, that person is you. I have producers anxious to sign her when she has an irresponsible boyfriend around to distract her."

I scoffed. "Then they're idiots for denying her.

Milo scrubbed his face. "I don't think you understand. You aren't good for her anymore. This relationship isn't the press she needs right now. I told her to end this PR stunt, but she's denied my request."

My eyebrows furrowed. "What makes you think I will."

"Your image is tainted, and you're bringing Davina down. I know you guys both care about each other, but you see things differently than Davina. You want what's best for her, just like I do, even if that doesn't involve you. I'm telling you the truth, Ambrose, Davina will not get the part of Isabel unless you guys break up. This singular film can be her comeback and put her career on the right track," Milo exclaimed. "I need you to break up with her."

My heart lurched with unease. "Are you seriously asking me to do this? I can't. I won't. I'm not going to break up with her."

Milo released a deep sigh. "I was afraid of that... But maybe this will give you enough motivation..." He handed a piece of paper. It was the check with the remaining amount of money I was owed from the PR contract. "See, I have tight connections with hardass lawyers who were able to find a loophole in the contract, so I don't have to give you any of this. If you want the money to get yourself out of prison or for your little restaurant, then you will have to end it with her."

Anguish threaded through my thoughts. How was I supposed to decide between two dreams? Since a teenager, I imagined myself purchasing a restaurant and engineering myself into a greater version of Ambrose Bright. It's a dream, an impossible one. But Davina was my other dream, one that I had and wanted to keep.

Every morning, I woke up to make her happy.

Every night, I suffocated her until she's tired of my kisses.

Every day, I spent every waking moment wanting to make her life better, treat her better, and simply be there for her. Since we've started dating, she's been my new dream, the only girl I could ever picture myself with. Even if I wanted a restaurant so badly, I'm willing to let it go if it meant I could keep her.

Using my palm, I rubbed my eyes until I saw spots. "I'm not breaking up with her."

He shrugged. "Then say goodbye to the good life because you aren't getting another cent from me."

Ambrose just got the bad end of the stick.... Who expected him to win? I find it so cute how Davina would've gave it up for him! Love them!

Love you guys and can't wait to read your comments!!!❤️❤️