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

That’s when I hear it—a soft clearing of a throat.

into my senses more times

Karl standing at the entrance of the kitchen,

amazing how someone can fill a space even when they’re

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

feels like a

a lingering moment where

hangs heavy in the air

you might be here,” he finally

the kitchen.

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

a defensive stance I wish I didn’t

darting to the discarded apron, the mess in the sink, and

a culinary crime scene. “I

of them practically sore from

murmur, the words coated with a layer of irony I

thick.

flinches at my tone, and I almost feel bad.

I cut him off, my pent-up emotions spilling

means to me? This

you want to make it about you, about

not fair. I

didn’t mean to do, Karl,”

and my career, and if you can’t be happy about that, then I don’t know what

just came to talk,” he finally says. “If you don’t want to,

away from him; his presence is too

to talk? Really? Because last time we talked, you made

felt about my success.”

by my accusation. “I am happy for you, Abby. I wish you

can I believe it?” I retort, gripping the edge of the counter to keep my hands

yourself that the competition

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

night that I shouldn’t have, because I was angry. But

Way more than you realize.

meet his, searching for any sign of insincerity. All I find is

doesn’t just erase things, Karl.

have room for that kind of negativity in

up, his eyes intense and unwavering. “I want

make it right.”

to support me?” I can’t keep the skepticism out of my voice. “Or is this

back? Because those are two very different

between us, and I