Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 82: My Alpha Sous Chef
Abby

The warm afternoon sunlight casts dappled patterns on the ground as we walk through the park,

holding cardboard coffee cups in our hands. The warmth seeps through the cup, mingling with the crisp

air. It’s a nice moment, bordering on something that feels almost normal.

And then we stop in front of it—the old oak tree.

Its massive trunk and sprawling branches are as iconic as they come. It’s always been a sort of

landmark in this small town, here long before the town was ever built. But to me, it’s more than just a

tree. It’s a bitter reminder of another life, of another version of us.

We took our wedding photos under this tree.

“Do you remember?” Karl asks, his eyes meeting mine as if he’s searching for something—recognition,

perhaps.

“Of course I remember,” I snap, maybe a little too quickly. “How could I forget?”

He looks taken aback, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Then, as though sensing he’s

wandered into a minefield, he falls silent.

We stand there for another minute, neither of us able to speak. Then I can’t hold back any longer.

“Did you ever tell the staff the truth?” I ask, my voice edged with more tension than I’d intended. “That I

never actually cheated on you with the gardener? That it was a terrible mistake?””

Karl goes silent, the creases on his forehead deepening. I wait for what feels like an eternity, my

patience waning with each passing second.

“Karl?”

He sighs. “No, Abby, I didn’t make an official announcement.”

Anger and hurt surge within me, mingling with a heavy dose of disbelief. And yet, somehow, I expected

this. It’s just like Karl, isn’t it? “That must be why Gerald was giving me dirty looks from the window

earlier.”

“Gerald did what?” Karl’s eyes flash, a ripple of anger surfacing before he reins it in.

I blanch, regretting that I let that slip. “It’s nothing, really. I just caught him giving me an odd look. And

he seemed… perturbed when I arrived.”

a moment, it looks like he might

calm.

about setting the record straight?” I press, my voice filled

again, and my annoyance

didn’t you clear

look incompetent,” he finally admits, avoiding my eyes. “That

my personal matters

retort, incredulous. “So my reputation

That’s not fair, Karl. You need to

without evasion this time. “You’re right.

Abby.”

willingly offering to make things right. I was so angry with

somehow, he’s

he changes the subject. “Where do you want

tonight?”

I consider naming one of the countless restaurants we used

then a different idea pops

say. “I’d

the tension still lingering between us, but easing somewhat. “Alright, I

Just

then the thought solidifies as a soft smile works its way across my lips.

cook. In

…

onion, its layers falling apart under my knife. The pot simmers on the stove,

the aroma of garlic

cooking in my old kitchen. The sleek stainless steel countertops

glow from the overhead light, reminding me of

watching the crystals dissolve into the bubbling sauce. Then,

from the hallway.

walks in, his eyes meeting

pot. “Whatcha

reply, stirring the pot once more. “I remember it was one of

grins, moving

guard. It would be so easy to say yes, to let him slide back

perfectly. But I hesitate, unsure. I’m still upset about earlier,

same time, I can’t bring myself to

record straight. And not when we’re in our old home

is

“Could you chop those mushrooms

as fluid as

used to—full of life, laughter, and the smell of delicious

side, I can’t help but marvel

myself imagining what it would be like to have

at the

be the perfect sous chef—steady,

lips part, prepared to ask him if he would join me

shaking my

I thinking? This is just dinner,