Accepted under the mentorship of your idol and the world's hottest chef Gordon Ramsay, you must prove your skill and determination through competing in Hell's Kitchen- A month long cooking contest versus fifteen other fierce contestants and difficul...
When I emerge from the interview room, Abel is sitting alone on the couch. He stands and approaches me, pulling me into a much-needed hug. Tension slips from my body and I breathe deeply, allowing myself to relax for the first time in a long while.
"I'm proud of you, sweetheart," Abel says, caressing the back of my head and holding me close. I tighten my grip on his jacket, pressing my cheek into his chest.
"I was scared," he continues, pulling me back and looking down at me with concern. "Are you absolutely, positively sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine, Abel. I feel good, actually. Guess I'm excited to be out of here soon," I respond as he leads me to the couch and sits down, pulling me into his lap with my legs draped over his on one side. "How are you feeling?" I ask, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
"I'm still scared," he admits. His golden-flecked blue eyes look somber. "While we were here, there was nothing but getting kicked out that I had to worry about. Once we're back in the real world, though, there's much more to consider. And only one thing I truly care about."
"Abel-"
"I wasn't kidding when I said I would take this seriously. I love you, and I never want to lose you." His eyes shine with unshed tears. "I knew this would be hard, but I had no idea..."
I trace my finger along his jaw. His gaze raises to meet mine and I cup his cheek in my palm.
"I love you, too."
"I know you do, but this is new territory. Do you have any idea how many reality TV show couples break up weeks after the show ends?"
"We aren't anything like them."
He smiles sadly. "We kind of are, though, aren't we?"
The phone rings, interrupting our conversation. I lean over to grab it off the side table, then resettle in Abel's lap. "Hello?"
"Hello, darling. Are you both ready?" Gordon's voice comes in over the line.
I glance at Abel, who nods. "Yes, Chef."
"Then come on up to my office, you two. See you soon." Gordon hangs up. I barely have time to set the phone down and stand before Abel turns me to face him, pulling me against his chest.
"These are the last few moments before everything changes. No matter what happens, these have been the most meaningful weeks of my life," he rests his forehead against mine, "and that has nothing to do with the competition. Thank you, (Y/N)."
I breathe slowly, closing my eyes and willing the moment to stretch a while longer. He's right, everything will change in a few short minutes-the end of the competition, however Gordon is handling our relationship announcement, and then whatever happens with the media is even more overwhelming.
But the person I was when I arrived and the person I am now are worlds apart from one another. Anxiety no longer wracks me at every uncertainty. My confidence has skyrocketed both thanks to my men and myself.
I'm finally ready for whatever comes next.
Abel's eyes are still sad when I reopen mine.
"Everything is going to be OK, Abel," I say, genuinely believing my words.
He smiles slightly. "At least the thrill of victory will raise my spirits," he teases, earning a playful shove from me.
"Come on, dork," I say, standing from his lap and taking his hands, pulling him with me. "Let's go."
We head down the stairs hand-in-hand and through the kitchens. The building is eerily silent with all the lights turned off save for the ones illuminating a path to Gordon's office. We ascend the steps slowly, my heartbeat steady in my ears.
"Ready, sweetheart?" Abel says when we reach the door, perhaps more for himself than me.
I squeeze his hand reassuringly. "I'm ready."
Abel opens the door for me, allowing me to go first. When I enter, I look at Gordon's desk, a site of many pleasurable, nerve-wracking memories. Time to add one more.
Gordon is seated at his desk wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses and his head chef jacket. He takes the glasses off as I enter and gives me a beaming grin.
"Welcome, finalists. Nervous?" Gordon asks, setting his glasses on the desk and lacing his fingers in front of himself.
"Yes, Chef," we answer, taking a seat in the chairs across from his desk when he gestures for us to. Abel rests his hand on my knee as we settle in.
"You were both absolutely incredible tonight."
"Thank you, Chef," we say in unison.
Gordon turns to me.
"(Y/N), you are one of the most creative, passionate, and hard working chefs to ever grace Hell's Kitchen. No matter the challenge, you never lost your drive to succeed." He smiles warmly. "And succeed you have. Thousands of chefs have dreamt of standing where you are now. Congratulations, my darling, your parents would be so very proud."
"Thank you, Chef." I respond, unable to stop the blush that warms my cheeks.
Gordon turns to Abel.
"Abel, you have the poise and skill of a chef far beyond your years. Do you remember when I tried your food for the first time?"
"How could I forget, Chef?" Abel responds with a smile.
"I'd said you had a very good chance of winning, and look where you stand now, young man."
"I never doubted you or myself, Chef," Abel responds with a smile.
"I want you both to know that I would be thrilled having either of you as my head chef. But as we know, there can only be one winner of Hell's Kitchen. Are you ready to find out who it is?"
"Yes, Chef!" We respond together.
"This was the hardest decision I've ever has to make in the history of this show, but I am confident in my decision at last. Hop up and make your way over to the doors. Abel on the left, (Y/N) on the right."
I make my way to the opaque glass door, my fingertips tingling. Ever since I was a kid, I dreamed of standing where I am now. And somehow, I'm ready for whatever happens.
"Hands on the handles, finalists," Gordon says. We place our hands on the doorknobs, then look to each other. Abel smiles and mouths 'good luck', and Gordon beams at me from over his shoulder.
Gordon starts a slow countdown. "Three... Two... One... Turn the handle!"
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