Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 67

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 frequently to donate dishes, and when I lived with Karl, the servants and guests were always enjoying leftovers.

“You might as well tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence, his voice tinged with impatience. I can tell that he’s onto me, and probably has been for some time. Probably since he found me hugging Ethan and Chloe. “You’ve clearly been up to something huge here lately, and I’m starting to feel like I’m the last to know. Why keep me in the dark?”

Sighing, I put the knife down, my eyes meeting his. There’s no point in avoiding the inevitable any longer. I might as well rip off the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping my hands on my apron. “I’m one of the finalists to compete to cater the Alpha party.”

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second before his expression smooths over into something I can’t quite decipher right now. “That’s great, Abby. I’m proud of you.”

But something’s off. His voice lacks the warmth I had hoped for, and his smile isn’t quite reaching his eyes. I can sense what I feared all this time—that he’d prefer that I go to the Alpha party with him instead of catering it.

“You don’t sound like you mean it,” I prod, my own words edged with a surprising bitterness to them.

“What? I said I’m proud of you,” he retorts, clearly irritated now.

“Yeah, but your tone says otherwise. What’s going on, Karl?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I wanted to go to the Alpha party with you. As your date. This whole catering thing sort of ruins that, though, doesn’t it?”