Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 111

Abby

My heart hammers in my chest as Anton’s words hang in the air between us. “Everything comes at a price,” he said.

I’m hooked, completely sold on whatever secret culinary world he comes from, but his cryptic statement sends shivers down my spine. What could he possibly mean?

“Alright… what’s the catch?” I finally manage to say, my eyes darting between Anton’s piercing gaze, John’s excited smirk, and Karl’s visibly confused expression.

Anton’s eyes search mine for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and starts to speak.

“I lost everything once, Abby. My career, my family, all because of a decision that sent my life spiraling out of control.”

“What was it?” Karl butts in, causing me to shoot him a warning glare. He shrugs, making a face. “What? Don’t we have the right to know?”

I’m about to open my mouth to respond, but before I can, Anton nods and speaks. “He is right. I’ll say it plainly: I made a series of bad investments. I stupidly gave away my family’s savings, my daughter’s college fund, to a bunch of losers claiming to be looking for investors for their new restaurants. I ruined everything.”

After Anton speaks, there’s a palpable silence that settles over the room. I don’t know what to say, but it seems as though I don’t have to, because Anton takes a deep breath and continues.

“I don’t expect you to understand, but to teach you, to be part of this kitchen—even temporarily—means a lot to me. It’s not just about the food; it's about regaining something I lost, something immeasurable. I want a chance to piece my life back together, to win back my family.”

My gaze instinctively slides over to Karl, and for a moment, I can see something behind his eyes. Recognition, maybe. Perhaps there’s a bit of kindredness between the two men; Karl, just like Anton, is trying to win something back.

John clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable but equally moved by Anton’s candidness. “Look, Anton, that’s a compelling story, but running a kitchen is a business. We can’t just bring someone in based on a touching tale. And no offense, but we have no proof of who you say you are. Sure, that dish was incredible, but—”

“I know. I know it’s a risk,” Anton interjects, cutting him off, his voice tinged with desperation but also a strange kind of confidence. “That's why I'm willing to show you. Give me a chance. Let me prove myself in this kitchen, and if I’m as good as I claim to be, then consider keeping me on board.”

I feel everyone's eyes on me. Karl’s got that look in his eyes, the skeptical but cautiously hopeful one that I’ve grown all too used to. John’s face is unreadable. I know the decision rests with me. After all, it’s my kitchen, my restaurant, and my place in the cook-off that’s at stake.

Finally, I find my voice. “Alright, Anton. I’m willing to give you that chance, a probationary period to showcase your skills. We’ll figure out the details and the logistics, but the essence is this: Show us you’re really the chef you claim to be, and there’ll be a place for you here. For good, if you want.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see Karl’s face shift through an entire host of expressions. Shock. Disbelief. And finally, a kind of reserved skepticism.

“Abby, can we talk?” he blurts out.

I furrow my brow, but before I can responde, Karl is grabbing my arm gently and leading me through the kitchen doors and into the narrow hallway, away from Anton’s earshot.

“Abby, are you insane?” he hisses, keeping his voice low. “Bringing a complete stranger into your kitchen, into your life? What if it backfires? What if he’s lying, or trying to use you?”

I look into Karl’s eyes. “What, like I did with you?” I murmur.

Karl’s eyes widen for a moment. His expression shifts from skepticism, to anger, and finally to understanding before his gaze drops to the floor. I can tell I struck a chord with him, and maybe it’s for the best; to remind him that I let him come here, let him walk back into my life, against all odds.

“I know it's a risk, Karl, but what if it’s worth it?” I continue. “What if he’s exactly what we need? His cooking is transformative, and you know as well as I do that the dishes he could help us create could be a game-changer. I don't just want to win the cook-off; I want to leave the judges stunned. I want them to remember my food for the rest of their lives.”

Karl is silent for a few moments, his eyes darting back and forth as though the gears are turning in his head. Finally, he sighs and meets my gaze again, and there’s more understanding there than ever before.

“Alright,” he says, nodding. “If this is what you want, Abby, then I’ll support you. No matter what.”

Relief floods through me, warm and reassuring. There’s a hint of something else there, too, and suddenly I feel like we’re in the cave again, too close for our own good. I have to quickly look away to hide the blush that’s creeping into my cheeks.

“Thank you, Karl. I knew you would understand.”

“More than that,” he continues, “I’ll even pay for a hotel room for Anton temporarily until he saves up some money. It’s the least we can do if we’re going to upend the man’s life with a ‘probationary period’.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “Karl, that’s incredibly generous of you. But you don’t need to do that.”

He shrugs, but I see the glint of something warm and tender in his eyes. “But I do need to do it, Abby. Not just for him, but for you.”

I nod, feeling overwhelmed. “Wow… Thank you, Karl. That’s…”

Before I can finish, he reaches out and squeezes my arm, a sensation that sends a shiver up my spine. “Come on. Let’s talk to him.”

We head back to where John and Anton are talking animatedly about different types of heirloom tomatoes, their voices a strange blend of excitement and tension. When they see us coming, they both fall silent, like school kids caught passing notes in class.

“So,” I say, “it’s settled. Anton, you’ll start your probationary period tomorrow. We’ll go over the details then, but the essence is simple: impress us and you’re in. And, Karl has something to tell you, too.”

Anton’s eyes meet mine, and I see a mix of relief and determination there. “You won’t regret this,” he promises, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

As Karl outlines the hotel arrangements for Anton, I can’t help but feel like we’ve just embarked on an unpredictable journey. There’s no turning back now, but in a strange way, I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited.

As we lock up and head out for the night, Karl sidles up next to me. “You realize we’re playing with fire here, right?” he whispers.

“Oh, I know,” I reply, glancing up ahead to see Anton and John walking side-by-side, already thick as thieves. “But sometimes you have to stoke the flames to see how bright they can burn, you know?”

Karl chuckles, a low, warm sound that eases some of the tension I didn’t even know I was holding. “Then let’s hope it’s a controlled burn, eh?”

I laugh too, although I’m not sure whether it’s from excitement, nerves, or something more personal. “Or at least one that cooks up something amazing.”