Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chapter 104
Abby

The tension in the room feels palpable, a thick curtain of unsaid words and unexplored emotions

hanging in the air between Karl and me. My grip tightens on the knife handle as I glance at the chaos of

ingredients strewn across the counter.

“Tell me first,” I blurt out, wanting to avoid the inevitable confrontation as long as possible. “What are

you doing here? The restaurant closed hours ago.”

Karl sighs and shakes his head, walking past me and over to the line. I watch as he bends down

behind the counter and disappears for a moment, muttering to himself, before he stands back up and

holds something up in the air: his wallet.

“Dropped this earlier,” he says, slipping it into his pocket. “Wanted to come back and make sure it was

here. Now it’s your turn. What are you doing here at…” He glances at his watch. “One o’clock in the

morning?”

I swallow, glancing around at the ingredients and half-cooked dishes all around the kitchen. The sink is

full of empty dishes from failed attempts, the trash can is practically overflowing with said failed

attempts, and the various successful attempts are lined up on the adjacent counter for pictures to keep

in mind for presentation ideas.

“I, um…” I find myself choking up slightly. “I’m just practicing,” I half-lie. “Wanted to test my skills.”

Karl raises an eyebrow. “And waste all these ingredients? You’re not that type of chef.”

I nearly curse out loud. Karl is right; I’ve never been the type to waste ingredients.

Even in the past, when I’ve gone on creative cooking sprees, I would never just throw things away

when the dishes don’t turn out perfectly. There’s a food pantry right down the street that I visit

dishes, and when I lived with Karl, the se rvants

leftovers.

as well tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence, his voice tinged with

me, and probably has been for some time. Probably

been up to something huge here lately, and I’m starting to

Why keep

my eyes meeting his.

rip off the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping my hands on my

one of the finalists to compete to

a fraction of a second before his expression

right now. “That’s great, Abby. I’m proud

I had hoped for, and his smile isn’t

this time—that he’d prefer that

instead of catering it.

don’t sound like you mean it,” I pr od, my own words edged with a surprising bitterness

I’m proud of you,” he retorts, clearly

tone says otherwise. What’s

running a hand through his hair. “Look, I wanted to go to the

date. This whole catering thing sort of ruins that,

I expected this sort of response from him, I’m still

that he really has changed, that he would be genuinely happy for

of making it

because you wanted to go

a big deal. I thought it could be

eyes locked onto mine. “And besides,

forget,” I say. “But this

on television and everything. I’m sorry, but I

me for a moment. “But what about us?

to go with

the empty kitchen.

‘us’, Karl,” I murmur. “I’ve told you countless times before that it’s not going to

between us.”

and strained, like he’s trying to

me on a string this

to jump through. And let’s not forget what happened the

words. The memory of our night right here in this kitchen whirls through

felt to have him close like