Page 47 of Thanking Her Brother's Best Friends

"Selene! You're here! The kitchen's superstar has arrived!" one of the producers exclaimed dramatically.

I struck a superhero pose, flourishing my right hand as if I had a spatula held in it. This was all part of the show. "Fear not, citizens of the culinary realm! I am here, and hopefully, I will not burn the cake or set my guest's apron on fire like I did last time!"

It did happen, by the way. I was having one of my days.

The crew burst into laughter, their excitement contagious. Tony, the director, approached me with a twinkle in his eye.

"Selene, darling, we have a special treat for you," Tony said, grinning mischievously.

I raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Oh, do tell, Tony. Is there a villainous vegetable lurking in the pantry?"

Tony chuckled. "Even better! We have a celebrity guest today, and he's going to show us his secret rigatoni recipe."

I gasped dramatically, feigning surprise. "A secret rigatoni recipe? I must uncover its mysteries!"

With exaggerated determination, I made my way toward the set, where Chef Andy, our eccentric guest, awaited. He was dressed in a flamboyant chef's coat.

I knew this man from his videos on YouTube. He was a brilliant food blogger, and like me, he loved to engage with his audience.

"Ah, Selene! The goddess of the kitchen has graced us with her presence!" Chef Andy exclaimed, bowing dramatically.

I curtsied in response. "And you, Chef Andy, are the master of culinary theatrics! Shall we entertain our audience with our gastronomic wizardry?"

Chef Andy winked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Let the show begin!"

As the cameras started rolling, Chef Andy and I dove into our culinary extravaganza.

However, it quickly became apparent that our cooking styles were as different as night and day. While I focused on precision and technique, Chef Andy embraced chaos and theatrics.

"Selene, my dear, watch and learn!" Chef Andy proclaimed, tossing a handful of rigatoni in the air and catching them with an expert flick of his wrist.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, Chef Andy, you never cease to amaze! But let's see if you can juggle tomatoes while you're at it!"

The audience erupted into laughter as Chef Andy attempted the impossible, only to have the tomatoes slip from his grasp and splatter across the countertop.

"Oops! Looks like my juggling skills need some work." Chef Andy chuckled, wiping the torrential projection of ripe tomato pulp that had marked his coat—like a culinary baptism of sorts.

At one point, he attempted to flip a pancake, only to have it land on his head. The crew erupted into laughter, and I couldn't hold back my own giggles.

"Chef Andy, I think you've just invented the latest fashion trend—the pancake hat!" I teased, pointing at the pancake perched on his head.

He grinned, playfully adjusting the pancake. "Why, thank you, Selene! I always strive to be at the forefront of culinary fashion!"

The laughter echoed through the studio, infusing the atmosphere with lighthearted energy. Despite the culinary mishaps and hilarious blunders, we managed to create a delicious rigatoni dish.

After we wrapped up, I spent some time with the crew and Tony before heading to the shop to check on Chloe and my staff. Then, it was straight home. Oliver would be returning a little later with the nanny.

As I stepped inside the fortress of my penthouse, I suddenly felt a little empty. I walked over to the balcony, a cup of tea in my hand.

From tomorrow, I told myself, I'd go get Ollie from school even if it was evening and exhaustion had seeped in. I missed our banter on the way back home, how he'd regale me with stories about his teachers and take joy in every little new thing he learned.

He was back pretty soon, though, and before I knew it, the clock struck seven.

The boys had said they'd arrive by eight, so I decided it was time to get ready. I took a long shower, donned simple jeans and a top, tied my hair in a messy mom-bun, and sat down with a truckload of butterflies doing Zumba in my stomach.

This wasn't the anxious kind of truckload, though—more the kind you feel when there's something exciting about to happen in your otherwise routine life.

As the hour grew closer, I stood in the foyer amid a sea of marble flooring and draped in the soft light of elegant chandeliers, unsure of what to do.

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