#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

dishes, and when I lived with Karl, the servants and

leftovers.

might as well tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence, his voice

that he’s onto me, and probably has been for some time. Probably

“You’ve clearly been up to something huge here lately,

last to know. Why keep me in

I put the knife down, my eyes meeting his. There’s

well rip off the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I

to compete to

of a second before his expression smooths over into something

now. “That’s great, Abby.

the warmth I had hoped

can sense what I feared all this time—that he’d prefer that I go to the Alpha party with

instead of catering it.

I p rod, my own

I’m proud of you,” he retorts,

tone says

through his hair. “Look, I wanted to go to the

sort

of response from

that he really has changed, that

of making

upset because you wanted to go

is a big deal. I thought it could be something special

eyes locked onto mine. “And besides, you promised. Or did you

my chest. “I didn’t forget,” I say. “But this competition… It could be huge for

It’s going to be on television and everything. I’m sorry, but I hoped that

he says, turning away from me for a moment. “But what about us?

something to you too? I thought you wanted to go with me.” His voice rises with each

the empty kitchen.

Karl,” I murmur. “I’ve told you countless times before that

between us.”

and strained,

on

jump through. And let’s not forget what happened

words. The memory of our night right

it felt to

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