#Chapter 67: Crossroads
Abby
The tension in the room feels palpable, a thick curtain of unsaid words and unexplored emotions
hanging in the air between Karl and me. My grip tightens on the knife handle as I glance at the chaos of
ingredients strewn across the counter.
“Tell me first,” I blurt out, wanting to avoid the inevitable confrontation as long as possible. “What are
you doing here? The restaurant closed hours ago.”
Karl sighs and shakes his head, walking past me and over to the line. I watch as he bends down
behind the counter and disappears for a moment, muttering to himself, before he stands back up and
holds something up in the air: his wallet.
“Dropped this earlier,” he says, slipping it into his pocket. “Wanted to come back and make sure it was
here. Now it’s your turn. What are you doing here at…” He glances at his watch. “One o’clock in the
morning?”
I swallow, glancing around at the ingredients and half-cooked dishes all around the kitchen. The sink is
full of empty dishes from failed attempts, the trash can is practically overflowing with said failed
attempts, and the various successful attempts are lined up on the adjacent counter for pictures to keep
in mind for presentation ideas.
“I, um…” I find myself choking up slightly. “I’m just practicing,” I half-lie. “Wanted to test my skills.”
Karl raises an eyebrow. “And waste all these ingredients? You’re not that type of chef.”
I nearly curse out loud. Karl is right; I’ve never been the type to waste ingredients.
Even in the past, when I’ve gone on creative cooking sprees, I would never just throw things away
when the dishes don’t turn out perfectly. There’s a food pantry right down the street that I visit
with Karl, the servants
leftovers.
well tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence,
been for some time. Probably since he found
huge here
Why keep me in
meeting his. There’s
might as well rip off the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping my
to compete to cater the
a second
decipher right now. “That’s great, Abby. I’m proud of
I had hoped for, and his smile
this time—that he’d prefer
instead of catering it.
it,” I p rod, my own words edged with a
I’m proud of you,” he retorts, clearly
says otherwise. What’s
“Look, I wanted to go to the Alpha
thing sort
sort of response from him, I’m still taken
was a part of me that hoped that he really has changed, that he would be genuinely
of making it
to
party, Abby. The Alpha party is a big deal. I thought
mine.
chest. “I didn’t forget,” I say. “But this competition… It could be huge
to be on television and everything. I’m sorry,
he says, turning away from me for a
to you too? I thought you wanted to go with me.”
the empty kitchen.
“I’ve told you countless times before that
between us.”
voice is low and strained, like he’s trying to hold himself
on
let’s not
his words. The memory of our night right
how it felt to have him close
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