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

a throat. My body stiffens; that sound

senses more times

the entrance of the kitchen, his posture stiff and

space even when they’re trying

toward him whether he

feels

There’s a lingering moment where neither

in the air between

the lights were still on. Thought you might be here,” he finally says, taking a hesitant

the kitchen.

my voice laced with more bitterness than I intend. I

on a defensive stance

discarded apron, the mess in the sink, and

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

them practically sore from how many times I’ve

course you did,” I murmur, the words coated with

thick.

at my tone, and I almost feel bad. Almost. “Abby,

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

me?

you want to make

not

mean to do, Karl,” I snap, stepping closer to him. “Right

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

to talk,” he finally says. “If you

his presence is too overwhelming,

last time we talked, you made it

felt about my success.”

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

I retort, gripping the edge of the counter to keep my hands

changed. You said yourself that the competition would get in the way of

he’s measuring

“You’re right. I said some stuff last night that I shouldn’t have, because I was angry. But

Way more than

any sign of insincerity.

doesn’t just erase things, Karl. You being angry

supportive of me, and I don’t have room for that kind of negativity

“I want to

make it right.”

to support me?” I can’t keep the

win me back? Because those

the gap between us, and I