There are murmurs circulating through the crowd and my heart is beating so fast, I feel as if I might die right here, in front of the world's most powerful culinary critics.

That would be embarrassing.

I tell myself to breath. Just breathe. Everything is going to be OK.

I hear a song play in my head:

"Everything's gonna be alright, everything's gonna be okay."

Right. It's now or never.

This is the moment I've been waiting for.

"I'm glad you are all enjoying this dish, but I have a confession to make," I say to the room, and every table goes silent. I'm talking silent enough to hear a fly land on a napkin. Every single set of eyes is now fixed on me.

"I invited you here tonight to help me surprise Chef Nicole," I say, and everyone is turning in their seats, looking for her. She seems genuinely surprised.

"You see … one night she cooked this most amazing dish for me. It transported me to another time and place. A place of her ancestors. It was authentic, and so full of depth of flavor, and love, and creativity … and it told a story. More than that, it showed her genius as a fellow chef. I was planning to surprise her with this new dish tonight."

There are now murmurs rumbling through the room again, but I continue on.

"This new dish was supposed to be a blend of my style and hers … a collaboration, if you will."

My eye's lock on Nicole's and I can't decipher what she's thinking. But she still seems to be in a state of shock.

"I did this as a way to say that I love her—I love this woman—and sometimes different things come together, combine, and become something beautiful."

Now Nicole's holding one hand to her mouth and she's crying. Even from this distance, I can see the tears streaking down her cheeks.

The entire room is clapping.

"Bravo—congratulations!" I hear the crowd shout. But I raise my hand to silence them.

"Please don't clap for me," I say. "Clap for Nicole. Congratulate her instead because she's the only reason I managed to do something like this. She has elevated the way I approach cooking and my own cuisine."

The crowd grows louder. The clapping has now reached a fever pitch and everyone is on their feet, and is turning to Nicole.

I watch as the major food critics approach her table. Rachel Smith reaches her first.

"It's an honor," she says to Nicole. "I'd like to talk to you about a potential book deal. I think we could create a best selling cook book together."

Nicole is speechless. She's beaming from ear to ear. Then Francis Ball and Joe March approach her, showering her with accolades, and I can tell this all feels so surreal to her.

It's as if she's trying to pinch herself, to ensure it isn't just a dream.

I walk to her table and reach my hand out toward her. She takes my hand in hers and I pull her to her feet. As soon as she's standing, I pull her into my arms, and embrace her in a tight hug. God it feels so good to hold her again.

It's been so long without her. Too long. And I never want that to happen again.

I don't think I could be without her.

I look directly into her eyes. "I love you," I say.

"I love you too," she says, her lips curling into a smile.

There's a new sparkle in her eyes, and I realize that I'm happy. Truly happy. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life.

You know the feeling you get when you come home and your dog is excited to see you? He's so excited that his tail is wagging so hard it's knocking things off the coffee table and he's running up to you and licking you and making all sorts of excited puppy noises and so you pet him and smile and feel content?

Well, it's like that. The rest of the world dissolves and takes a backseat to Nicole … to my happiness.

Nicole drags one hand to my cheek, tenderly cupping it. "I have a secret for you too," she says.

"And what's that?"

"I went behind your back and saw your doctor."

"You did what?" I say, looking into her eyes. Why would she do that? I told her about that in strict confidence. She knows I didn't want to get a second opinion.

"Before you get mad," she says, "you're an idiot."

"What?"

"You're an idiot because you were worried for nothing," she smiles. "The scans were wrong. You're not gonna die."

"Well aren’t you full of surprises," I say.

She brings her lips to mine, and as soon as I taste her sweet lips, an electric current travels down my spine.

"I want you, Palmer," she says. "I want you … now."