Abby
My office is silent as I scroll through the new emails that have landed in my inbox. My fingers drum on the desk, anticipating the one email that I’ve been waiting for the most—the details of the upcoming cooking competition.
And then, there it is, bolded and marked with high importance: Cook-Off Competition Details.
Taking a deep breath, I click on it.
The email is concise but packed with information. Attached to it is a long list, detailing every possible dish that might come up during the competition.
My heart rate quickens as I scan the list. Some dishes I recognize, ones I’ve made a thousand times over in my career, but others are unfamiliar, exotic even, presenting challenges I’ve never faced before.
I won’t know which three dishes I’ll be asked to prepare on the spot. Which means only one thing: I have to practice all of them. Every single one.
Grabbing a notepad, I jot down a list of ingredients I’ll need for the more exotic dishes, then turn my attention to the restaurant’s supplier portal, adding item after item to the shopping list. The ingredients range from the ordinary to the obscure. Each addition of expensive truffles, caviar, and fresh scallops makes my anxiety spike.
How can I perfect so many dishes in such a short time?
Once the orders are placed, I stretch and push back from the desk, glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s getting late, but there’s no time to waste. Without a second thought, I pull my hair into a messy bun and prepare to head to the kitchen to get started.
Before I can leave, however, a sudden page over the intercom draws me from my task.
“Abby, can you come up front for a moment? I need help with the register.” It’s Chloe, her voice strained.
Closing my laptop with a sigh, I head to the bar where Chloe is standing. Frustration is evident on her face as she fiddles with the register. “Hey, what’s going on?” I ask, striding up to her.
“It’s this damn thing,” she mutters, her fingers hovering over the register keys. “It’s been acting up all evening.”
I step beside her and start navigating through the system. A few prodded buttons and adjusted settings later, the machine whirrs back to life, responding as it should. Chloe releases a breath she’s seemingly been holding.
“Thanks, Abby. I thought I’d have to do all the transactions manually.”
“No problem,” I reply, giving her a reassuring smile. “Anything else I can help with?”
She shakes her head. “No, that’s it. But…” She hesitates, her eyes flickering with an unspoken thought. “Abby, about the other night… I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Especially not over Karl.”
I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. “Chloe, it’s alright.”
“No, it’s not,” she insists, her eyes earnest. “I’m your best friend, Abby, and I’m just… I’m worried about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt again, fall into another toxic relationship.”
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The readers' comments on the novel: Chasing His Kickass Luna Back
Please more updates! I hope Abby gets her happy ending with Karl. I SEE how his chanced and he knows that Abby needs to be her own person too....