#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
when I lived with Karl, the servants and guests were
leftovers.
breaks the silence, his voice tinged with impatience. I
he’s onto me, and probably has been for some time. Probably since he found
to something huge here lately, and I’m starting to
last to know. Why
knife down, my eyes meeting his. There’s
the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping my hands on my
the finalists to compete to
second before his expression smooths over
“That’s great, Abby. I’m proud
warmth I had hoped for, and his smile isn’t quite reaching
this time—that he’d prefer that I
instead of catering it.
don’t sound like you mean it,” I p rod, my own words edged with a
of you,” he
but your tone says otherwise. What’s going
“Look, I wanted to go to the Alpha party with
sort of ruins that, though, doesn’t
even though I expected this sort of
me that hoped that he really has changed, that he would be
instead of making it about
to go to
not just any party, Abby. The Alpha party is a big deal. I thought it
eyes locked onto mine. “And besides, you promised.
pounds in my chest. “I didn’t forget,” I say. “But this competition… It could
going to be on television and everything. I’m sorry, but I hoped that
understand,” he says, turning away from me
you too? I thought you wanted to go with
the empty kitchen.
is no ‘us’, Karl,” I murmur. “I’ve told you countless times before that
between us.”
and strained, like he’s trying to hold himself
keeping me on a string this whole time, giving me vague promises
let’s not forget what
night right here in this kitchen
felt to have him
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