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 he

forcing himself to calm. “I’ll

straight?” I press,

falls silent again, and my annoyance flares up once

didn’t you clear

me look incompetent,” he finally admits, avoiding

handle my personal

incredulous. “So my reputation gets tarnished because

need to man up and do something

evasion this time. “You’re right.

Abby.”

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

yet somehow, he’s exceeding my

say anything else, he changes the subject. “Where

tonight?”

one of the countless restaurants we used to frequent,

then a different

say. “I’d rather

us, but easing somewhat.

you want. Just say the

as a soft smile

to cook. In my

…

apart under

aroma of

soothing, grounding, to be cooking in my old

amber glow from the overhead light, reminding me

of salt to the pot, watching the crystals dissolve into

from the hallway.

as he walks in,

the pot. “Whatcha

reply, stirring the pot once more. “I remember

he grins, moving closer. “Need

guard. It would be so easy to say yes,

he once played so perfectly. But I hesitate, unsure.

he never cleared my name. But at the same time, I can’t bring myself to be too mad at

the record

is taking over

nod. “Could you

movements as

it used to—full of

work side by side, I can’t help but marvel at how well we function together. The synergy is

anything. I find myself imagining what it would

side at

the perfect sous chef—steady, reliable,

to ask him if he would join me for the competition. But at the last moment, I

shaking my head to

thinking? This is