Chapter 22: Live at Seven

Darcy's POV

The studio was kept cold for the lights.

Three hundred seats, a crew in black, and a kitchen set built on a stage with copper pans hanging from the ceiling.

I wore the green dress I had worn the night I met Keith's mother, and he wore a tie.

We sat in Row C, seats eleven and twelve, and he held my hand on his knee.

Across the aisle and three rows back, Preston's wife sat with her coat on her lap and didn't look at us.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice boomed. "Please welcome Chef Preston Dade!"

The applause was warm and long.

He came out in crisp whites, with a grin made for forty buses, and waved at a crowd that wanted him to be good.

The host was a silver-haired man in a blue suit who had interviewed presidents.

He took the chair opposite Preston's at a wooden table.

"Chef, welcome," he said. "Let's skip the cooking. The whole country wants to hear about the twins."

"I appreciate that."

"A viral video. A surprise family. How are you holding up?"

Preston put a hand on his chest.

"It's been the hardest and best week of my life," he said.

He let it sit.

"I found out I have a son and a daughter. Four years old. Milo and June."

I flinched.

Keith's hand tightened on mine.

"And their mother?" the host asked. "I understand there was a difficult history."

"She made choices. I won't judge her."

Preston looked down at the table.

"I just want what any father wants."

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