#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
and when I lived with
leftovers.
might as well tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence, his voice
probably has been for some time.
something huge here lately, and I’m starting to feel
to know. Why keep
knife down, my eyes meeting his.
I might as well rip off the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping my hands on
finalists to compete to cater
a second before his expression smooths over into something
decipher right now. “That’s great, Abby. I’m proud
His voice lacks the warmth I had hoped for,
he’d prefer that I go to the Alpha party
instead of catering it.
I p rod, my own words
I’m proud of
says otherwise. What’s going
through his hair. “Look, I wanted to go to
thing sort of ruins that, though, doesn’t
I expected this sort of response from
that he really has changed, that
making it
you wanted to go to
The Alpha party is a big deal. I thought it could be something
his eyes locked onto mine. “And besides, you
pounds in my chest. “I didn’t forget,” I say. “But this competition… It could
It’s going to be on television and everything. I’m sorry, but I hoped that you
says, turning away from me for a moment. “But what about
I thought you wanted to go with me.” His voice rises with each word,
the empty kitchen.
Karl,” I murmur. “I’ve told you countless times before that
between us.”
though?” His voice is low and strained, like he’s trying to hold himself
to me like you’ve just been keeping me on a string this whole
jump through. And let’s not forget what happened
wince at his words. The memory of our night right here
to
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