Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 66: Practice Makes Perfect
Abby

My office is silent as I scroll through the new emails that have landed in my inbox. My fingers drum on

the desk, anticipating the one email that I’ve been waiting for the most—the details of the upcoming

cooking competition.

And then, there it is, bolded and marked with high importance: Cook-Off Competition Details.

Taking a deep breath, I click on it.

The email is concise but packed with information. Attached to it is a long list, detailing every possible

dish that might come up during the competition.

My heart rate quickens as I scan the list. Some dishes I recognize, ones I’ve made a thousand times

over in my career, but others are unfamiliar, exotic even, presenting challenges I’ve never faced before.

I won’t know which three dishes I’ll be asked to prepare on the spot. Which means only one thing: I

have to practice all of them. Every single one.

Grabbing a notepad, I jot down a list of ingredients I’ll need for the more exotic dishes, then turn my

attention to the restaurant’s supplier portal, adding item after item to the shopping list. The ingredients

range from the ordinary to the obscure. Each addition of expensive truffles, caviar, and fresh scallops

makes my anxiety spi ke.

How can I perfect so many dishes in such a short time?

Once the orders are placed, I stretch and push back from the desk, glancing at the clock on the wall.

It’s getting late, but there’s no time to waste. Without a second thought, I pull my hair into a messy bun

and prepare to head to the kitchen to get started.

Before I can leave, however, a sudden page over the intercom draws me from my task.

“Abby, can you come up front for a moment? I need help with the register.” It’s Chloe, her voice

strained.

head to the bar where Chloe is standing. Frustration is evident

register. “Hey, what’s going on?” I ask, striding up to

thing,” she mutters, her fingers hovering over the register keys. “It’s been acting

evening.”

and start navigating through the system. A few prodded buttons

life, responding as it should. Chloe

been holding.

Abby. I thought I’d have to do all the transactions

a reassuring smile. “Anything else I can help

it. But…” She hesitates, her

shouldn’t have snapped at

the counter, crossing my

she insists, her eyes earnest. “I’m your best friend, Abby, and I’m just… I’m

you get hurt again,

the fears I keep buried deep

remember? Learned my lesson the hard way.

to happen again.”

it’s just… you deserve so much better,

him hurting you again.”

gently squeezing her hand. “I appreciate your concern,

own decisions, and I don’t need

a beat, a mix of emotions swirling in

reluctant nod. “I understand.”

I say, my voice soft, before

make my way back to my office, Chloe’s words reverberate in my head. A

but another part is frustrated. This entire situation, I realize, is like

concern and independence, friendship and

don’t want this to strain my friendship with Chloe. Our bond means more to me than she

time, I want—no, need—her to trust me, to trust my judgments and

charms all those years ago, who got

broken. I’ve

feel as though all of my friends just see me as

that’s bad for

into my office chair, though, a

on me, the taste of his lips. Our intimacy

spoken about.

mistake. A wonderful, horrible, delicious

…

fallen quiet, with the