#Chapter 53: A Mess To Clean
Abby

The sun’s barely peeking over the h o rizon as I pull open the door to the restaurant.

I can already feel the hustle of a new day, the potential for a fresh start. Walking in, I expect the familiar

comfort of an empty space, but I’m met instead with Ethan’s brooding form. His jaw is set tight, his

brow furrowed.

He doesn’t look up as I approach.

“Morning,” I greet cautiously, sensing the tension in the air.

He sighs heavily. “Abby… What the hell happened here last night?”

Confused, I follow his gaze. The kitchen. Oh no. My heart ski ps a beat as memories of last night flood

back. The cooking. The laughter. The… moment with Karl.

“What do you mean?” I manage to ask, feigning ignorance.

Ethan’s eyes fix on me, and I can see his irritation. “I’ll show you.” Without waiting for a reply, he leads

me into the disaster zone that is the kitchen.

Every counter is smeared with remnants of our late-night feast. Pots and pans are sc at tered

everywhere, some still containing leftover food. The sight makes my stomach churn with guilt. How

could I have been so careless?

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. “I… I was working late last night. Got hungry and…” I trail off, trying to

find a good excuse, but words fail me.

Ethan just raises an eyebrow, his expression demanding more.

“And… I forgot to clean up,” I finish lamely, avoiding his gaze.

A beat of silence. Then, “Forgot?” His tone is sharp, filled with disbelief.

My mind races. If he even catches a hint of what transpired with Karl, rumors would spread like wildfire,

jeopardizing not only my reputation but potentially the restaurant’s as well.

“I was exhausted,” I murmur.

His eyes scan the kitchen, lingering on a particular spot on the counter, and my heart races. That’s

No. I shake my

deep breath, I roll up my sleeves. “I’ll clean

sighs, his anger simmering down to annoyance. “Just… be more careful, Abby. This isn’t

But all I say

I’m left with the mess—both the literal one in

counters, my mind

To Karl.

an echo of his presence. The way he

the touch of his

need to stop this. Last night was a mistake.

happened. I shouldn’t

try to erase not just the stains of food but

confusion. The

to pass as I’m lost in my thoughts, cleaning up

the kitchen is spotless—gleaming counters and organized tools. I wish it

sort out my emotions.

one where Karl and I shared that moment, and

feelings raw. But this is neither the time nor the place to

a deep sigh, I push away from the counter, reminding

restaurant, and the

and I need to focus on the present,

casting soft golden beams onto

the restaurant’s monthly earnings. There’s a particular rhythm to the mornings here, where

hum of activity outside my office gently soothes

a knock, crisp

I call out, expecting to see Ethan or

swings open to reveal a

a sharp charcoal suit, with an air of unquestionable authority, the stranger’s steel blue

mine. He extends a hand, introducing himself. “You’re Abby, correct?” he asks. “The

restaurant?”

my brow. I wasn’t expecting any health inspectors today. “Yes,” I reply

man smiles. “I’m

greet him, I shake his offered hand, slightly taken aback by the

don’t believe we had an appointment. How can

preamble, he begins, “I represent the Alpha Gathering Committee. I

your restaurant has garnered quite the

about the Alpha gathering. It’s where deals are struck

and

promised to go on that date with

trying to grasp why a representative from the committee would be standing in

modest office.

his tone steady, “Among countless establishments in this city, yours stands out.

the four finalists we’re considering to cater for our

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