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.”

and for a moment, it looks like he might explode. Then

forcing himself to calm. “I’ll speak with

record straight?” I press, my voice filled with

my annoyance flares

didn’t you clear my

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

my personal

I retort, incredulous. “So my reputation

Karl. You need to man up and do something

evasion

Abby.”

Karl is so willingly offering to make

yet somehow, he’s exceeding

changes the subject. “Where do you want to go

tonight?”

one of the countless restaurants we used to frequent,

own set of memories. But then a different idea

tired, actually,” I say. “I’d rather just stay

tension still lingering between us, but easing somewhat.

you want. Just

thought solidifies as a soft smile works its way across my

want to cook. In my

…

layers falling apart under my knife. The

the aroma of garlic

to be cooking in my old

warm amber glow from the overhead light, reminding me of old days.

crystals dissolve into the bubbling sauce.

from the hallway.

as he walks in, his eyes

pot.

stirring the pot once more. “I

moving closer.

him, momentarily caught off guard. It would be so easy to say yes, to let

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

cleared my name. But at the same time, I can’t bring myself

willingly agreed to set the record straight. And not

the nostalgia is taking over

nod. “Could you chop those mushrooms

knife and starts slicing, his movements as fluid as they always were. For

it used to—full of life,

help but marvel at how well

as if time hasn’t changed anything. I find myself imagining what it would be

at the

perfect sous

prepared to ask him if he would join me for the

my

am I thinking? This is just dinner,