Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 68: Reconciliation
Abby

The night weighs heavy on me, each mile that separates Karl and me adding to the burden I didn’t

think I’d ever have to bear again. I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, trying to bury

the memories of our argument and the sting of his words. It’s infuriating that he would have the

audacity to be mad about my accomplishment.

He should be thrilled for me.

Shouldn’t he?

…

I wake up the next day with dark clouds lingering in my head, mirroring the ones outside my window. I

head straight to the kitchen to work it all off. When emotions get messy, the kitchen has always been

my sanctuary. But today, even my sanctuary seems to be turning against me.

The day passes by in a blur. Before I know it, the restaurant is empty, the day having been a whirlwind

of rushes and demanding customers. Finally, I find myself alone amidst a storm of spices, ingredients,

and equipment. At least now, in the empty kitchen, I can think.

But the thing is, I’ve attempted this delicate souffle five times now. It keeps collapsing.

“D amn it!” I snap, tossing my whisk into the sink with an unwarranted amount of aggression. My apron

follows, flung across the counter as I grip the edge, my knuckles going white.

This is one of the key dishes I want to practice for the competition. I’ve never had good luck with

souffles, and it seems as though that bad luck is still getting in the way.

My heart is pounding like I’ve run a marathon, and I feel so stu pidly vulnerable standing here, defeated

by eggs and sugar. Tears of frustration are dangerously close, and I hate myself for it.

I can handle a hectic dinner rush, a dysfunctional kitchen, a competition. But to add Karl’s drama onto

it? It’s too much.

“Stop being such a drama queen, Abby,” I chastise myself aloud, rolling my eyes at my own

I hear it—a soft clearing of a throat. My body stiffens; that sound

into my senses more times

I find Karl standing at the entrance of the kitchen, his posture stiff and his

someone can fill a space even when they’re

this gravity about him, always has, pulling things toward him whether he means to

gravity feels

There’s a lingering moment where neither

in

on. Thought you might be here,” he

the kitchen.

are you doing here, Karl?” I ask, my voice laced with more bitterness than I

on a defensive stance

the mess in the sink, and the ingredients

counter like evidence of a culinary crime scene. “I came to talk about last

my eyes, the back of them practically sore from

with a layer of irony I can’t help but slather

thick.

flinches at my tone, and I almost feel

listen,” I cut him off, my pent-up emotions spilling over like a pot left unwatched.

me? This

to make it about

not fair.

or didn’t mean to do, Karl,” I snap, stepping closer to

you can’t be happy

to talk,” he finally says.

can’t look away from him; his presence is too overwhelming, too filled

Really? Because last time we

felt about my success.”

“I am happy for you,

I believe it?” I retort, gripping the edge

competition would get in the way of

down, exhaling slowly like he’s measuring each breath, weighing each word before

said some stuff last night that I shouldn’t have, because I was angry.

Way more than

sign of insincerity. All

things, Karl. You being angry about my success tells

don’t have room for

unwavering. “I want to be supportive,

make it right.”

really want to support me?” I can’t keep the skepticism out of my

back? Because those are two very different

us, and I involuntarily hold my breath. “I can’t lie and