There are two distinct categories that your average thirty-year-old woman falls into. They are either happily married and popping out baby after baby, or they are seeking out their better half, yearning to settle down with their so-called life partner. It's preposterous to think that a woman could be content in the pursuit of being a single, happy, independent, and successful woman, yet this third option describes Lily Evans to a tee. Well, three-quarters of the descriptions, at least. No, wait, make that half, and not by choice.
If you had asked Lily last week if she checked all four boxes in that description, she'd have given a resounding yes, but today tells a different story. The tale of a pastry chef whose career is on the brink of destruction, all because she put her faith and trust in a man; a man who has left her feeling as though she's lost everything. All on her thirtieth birthday.
At least she still has her talent and passion. Oh, and her intuitive flavor combinations. No one can take that away from her. No one.
Her flavor combinations are loyal.
They'll keep her faithful customers returning.
And most importantly, they won't walk out on her because she said no.
Which is why she finds herself competing in the Belfast Bake-Off on this unseasonably mild afternoon in early February. It's the last place she should be, considering she won't be able to afford rent if she doesn't secure some clients or events soon, but Lily couldn't resist when she saw there was still an opening two nights ago. The entrance fee will be worth it if her signature mint oreo cheesecake brownies are placed after judging. It's the one splurge she's allowing herself to partake in because her creativity will never let her down. And if she doesn't win anything? Well, what better way than to throw yourself back into the profession that's crumbling outside the white plastic walls of this tent?
This weekend will be all about Lily celebrating the strong, confident thirty-year-old woman she is while doing what she loves. She smiles down at the evenly cut bars on the immaculate counter of her baking station as she sprinkles a light layer of edible green glitter over the sparse garnish of oreo crumbles. Perhaps Lily's a bit too obsessive about the presentation of her baked treats, but everyone knows that you eat with your eyes before your stomach, except maybe her sister, Petunia.
"This reminds me of you with that Easy Bake Oven when we were little. Checking that awful toy oven every two minutes to see if that terrible cookie batter was cooked through, and then rummaging through Mum and Dad's cupboards in an attempt to make the rock edible."
Okay, the cookie wasn't hard enough to designate it as 'rock' status.
Her sister rolls her eyes as she leans forward, with dainty fingers looking to steal a perfectly stacked cheesecake/brownie from its presentation plate. Lily swats at her older sister's hand in an effort to keep her paws off of the bars she spent more than twenty minutes cutting and placing to perfection.
"There are leftovers in the pan over there. Help yourself to those, but hands off my presentation masterpiece! And don't knock Sally. She did the best she could until Mum finally caved and let me use the real oven."
"Ugh, don't remind me that you named that! Who names an Easy Bake Oven? It's not like it made it bake any faster."
Petunia's gesticulating wildly with a discarded confection in one hand and her coffee from Marauder's Brews in the other. A pang of disappointment stabs Lily's heart as she mourns the little things she can no longer afford in her life.
No, not no longer. That sounds permanent. How about a temporary hold? Yes, that's it! I just can't splurge on a specialty Marauder Mocha until I'm back on my feet again.
"And what if I still name my appliances? Sometimes it gets lonely working in a kitchen by yourself all day. If I name them, then it feels like I'm actually talking to someone else instead of me, myself, and I."
Lily makes the remark on purpose to get under Petunia's skin. Lily's sister has always been a realist, and any crazy talk like that is sure to make Petunia scold her for engaging in such nonsense.
"Honestly, Lily!" Petunia scoffs in an urgent whisper as she looks around to make sure no one's listening. "Why can't you just get a dog like a normal person?"
She sets the disposable coffee cup on the counter before patting her hair and making sure each strand is still in its proper place. Her blue-grey eyes continue to wander around the tent, ensuring that no one is eavesdropping on the ridiculous conversation.
Lily, on the other hand, stands there with her hands on her hips, gaping at her sister. She shouldn't be surprised at the callous comment that comes out of her sister's mouth, but it still hurts. It takes a moment for Petunia to look back in Lily's direction, but when she does, a smidgen of guilt crosses her hard, stony features.
"Oh, Lily, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I wasn't thinking." Petunia's scrunched eyebrows relax as the rest of her face softens.
"Don't worry about it." Lily's tone is clipped, indicating she's not interested in talking about 'the incident'.
"I still can't believe—you'll be back on the map before you know it. Your clients are loyal and supportive, and everyone knows you're the mastermind behind all the flavor profiles and crazy creations. People will see right through Sev's act and know he's a fraud. You're better off without him."
"Don't. He doesn't deserve any sort of nickname for the slimy git he is." Lily pulls her flour and cocoa powder covered apron over her head and rolls it into a ball before shoving it in her tote bag, along with a series of spatulas and other decorating and baking tools that have been wiped clean.
"Yes, of course," Petunia grimaces, and in an attempt to make up for her insensitive comments, she offers to get Lily a cup of coffee.
Lily contemplates her sister's offer. If she leaves now, she'll miss the start of judging, not that Petunia will care in the slightest. Petunia's never been one to sit down and binge the baking competitions on Food Network, and Lily hardly thinks seeing it live will change anything. Not that this competition comes anywhere near a televised event. It's a far cry from the Great British Bake-Off. Petunia is only here for moral support, and because she's insistent on taking Lily out for a belated birthday dinner since Snape ruined any chance of festivities last weekend.
In her own aristocratic way, Petunia would always be the dutiful older sister. And even though Lily has proven time and time again that she can fend for herself, Petunia is always there to look out for her, which is charming in its own way.
So, with a soft smile, Lily obliges. "Thanks, Tuney. I'd love a—"
"Mocha, I know. You're so predictable. But I'm asking them to add whipped cream and chocolate shavings. Today's meant to be a celebration!"
Petunia flashes a triumphant smile as she pulls her purse out from the compartment under the counter and heads for the tent's exit. No sooner does she disappear from Lily's view than the sound of a few taps on a microphone draws her attention to the judging station in the middle of the expansive tent. As Lily looks around, she wonders for the third time that day how a tent could be this size. It's massive, with enough room to house twenty baking stations around the perimeter. Not to mention the number of generators needed to power the electricity inside the marquee. Thank goodness it's a pre-bake competition, meaning she could create some of the elements at home prior to the start of the bake-off.
When her dessert is called for judging, Lily reaches over and picks up her plate with extra care as she takes slow, even strides toward the presentation table. As she focuses on her steps and keeping her balance—for fear of the immaculate tray flying in the air should she trip and fall— Lily can't help but hear whispers coming from the other contestants, who are clumped together in groups of twos and threes.
She catches random words like 'judge' and 'unexpected,' but it's not enough to make her privy to what all the fuss is about. Once she approaches the eight-foot table, adorned with a sleek black tablecloth and cards with the contestant's judging numbers evenly spaced out, Lily sets her confection down in front of her assigned place-card and backs away. She joins the line-up with the rest of the current judging group, choosing to stand to the right of a plump woman with kind blue eyes and grey hair that falls gracefully to her shoulders.
The woman flashes Lily a wide smile, though her eyes are trained on the small clumps of other bakers, still gossiping about who knows what. Typically, Lily could care less about rumors, choosing to keep her head down and complete her work quietly instead, but there's something about the buzz of nervous and excited energy that draws her in.
"What's all the fuss about?" Lily asks.
"There's been a change in judges," the woman on her other side replies with a scoff.
Her tone is curt, matching the severity of her light brown hair that is tied back in a tight bun. She sounds as though Lily should have been able to gauge that information for herself.
"A judging change?" Lily half mutters. She looks around, but no one has emerged from the closed-off judging area yet.
"Yes," the woman's voice is snippy. "Some hot-shot from England. He's no Gordon Ramsay or Paul Hollywood, so I don't understand what all the fuss is about."
Lily gauges the woman's actions, which aren't matching her words. She puts on an air of disinterest, yet her neck is craning for a peek inside the judge's area. But before she can question the woman's motives, the kind lady to Lily's left interjects.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that. James Potter may not be well-known internationally yet, but he's well on his way. He's been winning cooking and baking competitions since he was only a lad!"
Lily confirms by the woman's accent that she's from England, and for a moment, wonders what brought her to Ireland for an amateur baking contest.
"I'd say we should be honored to have Mr. Potter here to judge today. Lucky, even, that he's not a competitor. None of us would stand a chance if that were the case."
Well, with a name like James Potter, Lily is sure the English woman must know what she's talking about. His name just has an air to it. It sounds wealthy and pompous and all-knowing. Just the type of person Lily wishes to swear off of her life completely. And because of this judgment and reasoning, Lily has a hard time believing the kind-spirited woman.
"How do you reckon?" Lily knows there's more to a person than a name, but she's heard and read enough about aristocratic Englishmen to know they're all the same.
"Haven't you heard of Gourmet Gloucester? It's the most profound cooking school in all of England for all skill levels. What better judge to have than one who knows the craft best and can offer room for improvement?"
Great, so not only a surprise stand-in judge, but an old man who thinks he's better than everyone else. He'll probably be condescending in his efforts to tear apart entries under the guise of making them 'better.'
Lily stifles a groan, and while she's sure her face expresses doubt in the woman's well-intended words, apparently, it's interpreted as confusion.
"Oh, of course! I keep forgetting we're in Northern Ireland, not England! Silly me, of course, you haven't heard of Gourmet Gloucester. We Brits like to keep the likes of Mr. Potter and his accomplishments a homegrown secret."
Lily furrows her brows and pulls the corner of her lip up in a way that scrunches her face in actual confusion now. There are so many questions fighting to be asked at the forefront of her mind, and she's trying to decide which is the most relevant to ask first.
"Sorry? You forgot you aren't in England?" An uncomfortable laugh escapes her lips.
"Ah, yes. I've been traveling a lot more for work, so the last eighteen months have seen me back and forth between home, Scotland, and Ireland. If not for the change in accents, there are some days I'd never remember where I am!"
Her explanation is so genuine and apologetic that Lily forgets the older woman's previous gushing over the stand-in judge. After all, it is an easy mistake to make if someone is well-recognized where you're from.
"Well, in case you've forgotten, you're in Northern Ireland. Belfast, to be exact. I'm Lily."
Lily offers a warm smile as she extends her hand in a formal greeting.
"Mona. Mona Sprout." She looks around toward the baking stations ahead of them and nods to a balding man who is packing away what looks to be an entire kitchen worth of utensils and baking sheets. "And that's Howard. He's my business partner and right-hand man. Bless him, though. He's not fond of the baking side of things. Or competitions, for that matter."
Mona's comments pique Lily's curiosity about what it is that she does for a living, and she can't help but chuckle at how out of place Howard seems. It's the same when Lily asks Petunia to come over and help in the kitchen with a large order. Lily's about to ask what Mona's specialty is when she hears a gasp escape from the baker's mouth, her face flushing the color of ripe strawberries.
"He's here."
Lily follows Mona's eye line until her gaze falls upon the most handsome man she's ever seen. It appears that James Potter is not a crotchety old man. Her knees go weak and her mouth dries out as she drinks in the sight of him.
He's tall, with impeccable posture that gives him the air of confidence Lily's expecting. His facial features are pointed but not too sharp that they'd give the wrong impression. His skin reminds her of dark, rich honey that's fresh from the farmstand with its light amber hue. He's wearing a pair of glasses that masks the color of his eyes at first glance, while complimenting his tailored dark grey suit, making Lily wonder if he owns multiple pairs for the sole purpose of matching his wardrobe. The only element out of place for this perfectly put-together man is his hair; black and messy and sticking out in all directions.
It wasn't fair for one man to be that attractive. Lily can't pry her eyes away from him; she's completely captivated as her brain sends blatant reminders that he's wealthy and so far out of her league. Plus, he clearly thinks he's better than everyone else in the area. How can you be humble with the ability to drop everything and fly to Northern Ireland for an amateur baking contest? He's obviously a rich boy who doesn't work and just shows up to the events he thinks will be the most entertaining.
And yet, James Potter continues to make her heart beat traitorously in her chest, thundering away as Mona fans herself while the other women around them tug at their clothes and hair, attempting to look their best. As if wooing this man was going to help them win a baking competition. And if he's every bit as cocky as he seems, it just might work, much to Lily's chagrin.
Life just isn't fair.
Of course life isn't fair. Would you be here right now if life was going according to plan? No, so pick your jaw up off the floor and put your best foot forward. You've got a plate of amazing brownies to share.
"I think it's your turn." Lily barely hears Mona's voice as her inner pep talk drones on.
She blinks, trying to register what's happening. Her eyes drift back towards the handsome judge, only to realize he's staring back at her. She feels all the breath escape from her lungs, and her head becomes dizzy. Instead of focusing on why he's staring, she chooses to study his eyes. Now that he's close enough, she can tell they are hazel, and their intense gaze has her frozen in place. For a split second, it feels as though they are the only two under the tent's white canopy.
"Lily," Mona hisses, "you're up."
Without waiting for Lily to comprehend, Mona gives her a light shove, propelling her forward. It takes a few steps to catch her balance, and she's sure she looks like a fool with her arms flapping in the air and her auburn hair flying over her face in an unbecoming manner. She regains her balance with grace, only for her foot to catch a bump in the ground, causing her to trip forward again. A hard, muscular body catches her fall, and Lily looks up to see that she's fallen straight into James Potter's chest.
"I'm sorry! So sorry! The ground—it's uneven and—" Lily is mortified as she backs away, swatting at the man's attempt to help steady her.
Great, just the impression I want to make in my first baking competition. I'll be the laughing stock from here on out.
Lily meets his eyes again, and that's when she sees the swirls of green and brown, interspersed with gold flecks, a shade of hazel so striking that she's sure she's never seen before. And then, realizing she's gawking at the man, Lily attempts to regain her dignity as her eyes shift down to his tie, a brilliant yet understated gold that probably cost three times as much as the poly-blend plum sweaterdress that Petunia said would be perfect for today.
"Are you the contestant with the mint chocolate sandwich biscuit cheesecake brownie?"
Is he serious? He can't even say 'Oreo'? Honestly.
"Yes, that's me."
"The announcer has been calling you for the past three minutes. I certainly hope none of the other contestants are relying on their dishes being warm for tasting."
There is a gleam in Mr. Potter's eye, and while his tone is proper and professional, Lily can't help but hear the cheekiness in its subtext.
What a twat.
"My apologies, I was a bit...distracted." Lily keeps her tone cool and business-like.
"Well, would you care to describe your dish now, or should I go put my calligraphy skills to use and write a formal invitation?"
Lily bites her cheek as she feels her blood begin to boil at his retort. All the good looks in the world can't make up for his cocky attitude.
"That won't be necessary," she manages through gritted teeth.
"Well, you may begin at any time. That is, if you aren't too distracted." His lip twitches to reveal an imperceptible smirk before regaining his even composure.
What is his problem?
Taking a deep breath, she runs through the description in her mind before detailing her entry.
"Today, I've created a layered confection. The base is a double fudge brownie with white chocolate swirls to mimic the creme filling in a chocolate sandwich cookie, followed by a mint white chocolate cheesecake with chocolate cookie crumbles mixed in throughout. More cookie crumbles are sprinkled on top as a garnish, along with edible green glitter to give it an extra pop of color."
His eyes are boring into hers, making her feel exposed in an uncomfortable way, as if she's standing naked for the world to see, but Lily refuses to back down and stands up even straighter. Turning toward her plate, Mr. Potter chooses the topmost brownie from the selections and examines it up close, using all his senses. Lily can see his fingers applying a light pressure to see if the brownie holds its shape or crumbles, and watches as he smells for the mint and examines the evenness of the layers.
"Hmm. That's a lot of flavors in one dessert, and quite the mouthful for a name."
Lily's anger is palpable at Mr. Potter's nitpicking of her creation without even taking a bite first. She means to tell him to try it before making those opinions about her flavor profile, but something else slipped out.
"You do realize my name is not 'mint cheesecake brownie,' don't you?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. If you're going to address me, perhaps you should be using my name. If I'm not mistaken, that's common courtesy in other competitions. Or are you above that?"
His eyebrows raised as he entertained her outburst. "If it means that much to you, please, by all means, what is your name?"
"It's Lily. Lily Evans."
She does her best to steel her voice and remain strong, but she can't help the shakiness she feels while in this man's commanding presence. Anyone in the room could have cut through the tension between the judge and contestant with a knife. Both seemed to be in a stalemate, neither moving after Lily's bitter introduction. She doesn't understand why he's just standing there. Wasn't he the one pushing her to get a move on so he can continue on with the judging?
Having enough of the staring contest, Lily clears her throat. "Are you going to try the cheesecake brownie now? Or is taste not a component in today's judging?"
She probably shouldn't have said that, but the way he seems to look down on her is becoming more and more irritating. It takes everything in her power to avoid placing her hands on her hips in an impatient stance.
Without another word, Mr. Potter lifts up the cheesecake brownie and takes a sizable bite. Lily peers at him with narrowed eyes as he takes time to allow the flavors to burst onto his tongue before chewing and swallowing. His Adam's apple bobs up and down, and Lily hopes her sharp inhale isn't audible as her insides churn with desire.
Stop it. It doesn't matter how attractive he is. James Potter is a pompous wanker! You can't let yourself think about him that way.
"..Miss Evans?" she hears him faintly call, and realizes that once again she's gotten lost in her own thoughts of how his tongue might feel exploring the flavor of—
"Yes?"
"I was just saying that while there's a lot going on in one bite, the flavors work. The mint lightens up the decadence of the fudge, and the white chocolate is an intuitive way to incorporate the creme-filled center of the biscuit without the artificial flavors."
Did he actually just compliment my baking?
Not that his opinion really means anything. She knows she's good at what she does.
Lily hardly has time to process his feedback when she notices him place the remainder of his brownie bar back on the table, and the napkin slips from underneath and falls to the ground. For some unknown reason, Lily reaches down to pick it up for him—probably because she thinks he's too prim and proper to do such a menial task himself—and as she bends over, she realizes just how low-cut her dress is when the loose cowl of fabric pulls away from her body.
Good God, he can probably see straight down my dress.
Mortified, she snatches the napkin and stands back up in one swift motion, hoping that she didn't give him a full-blown show of her shimmery gold bra, which she wore as a good luck charm. Maybe her hair protected her cleavage from view. But Lily's hopes are quashed when she looks back up at his face and sees an amused glint in his hazel eyes. She feels her face flush as her fears are confirmed.
He saw everything.
She prays to any deity that's listening to just let this whole ordeal end. Let James Potter say thank you and bid her good day. What happened to having a fun, relaxing weekend, doing something she loves? If this is what thirty continues to have in store for her, then she's doomed.
Angry tears begin to prickle in her eyes. Lily isn't easily embarrassed, but the culmination of events leading to this moment have perhaps brought her to the breaking point. She blinks them back before they have a chance to fall.
"Miss Evans."
Ugh, there he goes again with the name. Maybe I should have left it with 'mint cheesecake brownie.'
Unable to trust her voice, she nods, waiting for his final assessment.
"Original and full of flavor. Not too sweet."
Lily lets out a premature sigh of relief, but pauses mid-exhale when she sees the slight frown cross his face.
"It's a shame about the glitter, though."
Stunned, Lily self consciously lifts a hand up to the collar of her dress, as if to protect her vulnerability from moments before. She cannot believe his utter rudeness, and though the tears come back with a vengeance, she refuses to succumb to their weakness. No, no more tears would be shed for callous men. Lily is stronger than that. So, instead of entertaining James Potter for a moment longer, Lily turns and walks away. No competition is worth this sort of treatment.