Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 127

Abby

My heart feels like it's doing somersaults in my chest as I stammer out my words. “You’re—you’re Vanessa Greene. The Vanessa Greene.”

“The one and only,” Vanessa says, her voice as soft as a gentle breeze. She offers her hand, and I feel the warmth of her skin as our palms meet. My hand trembles, and I’m embarrassed but can’t help it.

Vanessa Greene is literally the most renowned female chef in the country. Aside from being a bestselling author, she also owns an entire chain of three-star restaurants called ‘The Greene Plate’, which specialize in organic, farm-to-table, gourmet vegan dishes. It’s something that no female chef has ever accomplished.

Aside from that, she’s the host of her own cooking show, ‘Brunch with Vanessa,’ and has won countless awards.

It goes without saying that I didn’t expect her to be here. Is she one of the contestants, or one of the judges? Surely she’s a judge. Why would they have the most successful female chef in the country competing against amateurs like us?

“Oh my god,” I mutter. “Y-You’re like my biggest role model. Your book, ‘A Woman in the Kitchen,’ was life-changing for me. You have no idea.”

In the background, I catch Daniel smirking from his chair, like a cat watching a mouse scurry around. It’s a look that just oozes condescension, making my stomach churn. The moment’s perfection crumbles a bit at the edges, and suddenly I feel like I’m already on stage, being scrutinized by hundreds of people.

But Vanessa’s reaction is as sweet as honey.

“You’ve read my book?” Her eyes brighten, and it feels like I’ve just been thrown a lifeline. “That’s wonderful to hear. It was written for women like you, women striving to make it in this industry.”

“Make it? I’m barely scraping through, compared to you.” I chuckle nervously, gripping my hands together so they stop shaking. “Your restaurants, your awards—it’s like a dream. A far-off dream that I can admire but never touch.”

Vanessa tilts her head, her afro catching the light like a halo. “Dreams are meant to be chased, not just admired from afar.”

I look up to meet her gaze and see something that I haven’t seen since I walked into this room: genuine kindness. There’s no veil of insincerity or secret competition—just warmth, pure and simple.

“Say, if you bring your copy of ‘A Woman in the Kitchen’ to the cook-off tomorrow, I’d be honored to sign it for you,” Vanessa offers, and the room seems to spin around me. Is this really happening?

“I—I would love that, thank you so much!” The words tumble out like an avalanche.

I see the makeup artist rolling her eyes, impatiently tapping her foot on the tiled floor. “Miss Greene, we need to get started with your makeup. And you,” she looks at me, “need to head to the greenroom.”

I apologize, flustered. “O-Of course, sorry. I didn’t mean to hold anyone up. It was so nice to meet you, Vanessa.” I pull away, my legs carrying me past Vanessa, though it feels like I’m leaving behind a moment I’ve dreamt of for years.

Just then, I bump into Daniel as I hurry past. “Watch where you’re going, fangirl,” he snickers, his words laced with an unbearable smugness.

“Sorry,” I mutter, mortified and not meeting her eyes.

As I escape down the hallway, I can feel Daniel’s gaze burning into my back. God, the interview hasn’t even begun and I’ve already managed to embarrass myself beyond all belief!

…

“Abby? It’s your turn.”

The stage lights feel like they're trying to bore holes into my skull as the assistant ushers me toward the stage. The cameraman is giving the cue, and I’m trying not to look like a deer in the headlights. There’s that prickly feeling of many eyes on me; it’s like high school all over again, except it’s now being broadcast live for the whole world to see.

“And here we have Abby, the final contestant in this year’s cook-off,” the host, Sarah, beams into the camera before turning toward me. I force a smile as I approach, shake her hand stiffly, and manage to take a seat without falling on my face. So far, so good.

“So, Abby, tell us a little about yourself.”

I inhale, reminding myself to breathe, to stay calm. “Well, I run a small restaurant in the city known as La Belle Vie Bistro. I love crafting unique and flavorful dishes. For me, cooking is about connection, about sharing a piece of my soul with others.”

The audience murmurs. A smattering of applause ripples across the small crowd.

Sarah flips her cue cards. “And when did you start cooking, Abby?”

“I was eight. My mom loved to cook, and I was her little sous-chef. Cutting, stirring, making a mess mostly,” I chuckle. “But the love for cooking stuck, long after I learned to clean up after myself.”

People laugh; even Sarah chuckles. And for a moment, the stage doesn’t feel too big, the lights not too bright. I can do this.

“So, what would you say is your signature dish?” Sarah leans in, interested.

I feel a flicker of excitement. “Oh, that would have to be my rosemary-infused lamb with a side of garlic mashed potatoes. It’s rustic, hearty, and incredibly flavorful. The rosemary and garlic come together to create a sense of home, no matter where you are.”

Sarah’s eyes light up and she looks over at the crowd. “Doesn’t that sound delicious?” she asks, to which the crowd murmurs in response.

“It’s a customer favorite for sure,” I beam. “It’s actually adapted from one of my mother’s recipes. I love to give my customers a taste of home.”

“Of course,” Sarah says, smiling.

The interview continues in a myriad of laughter, awws, and light applause. With each passing minute, I begin to feel more and more relaxed, like I’ve done this a thousand times. I almost forget that the audience is even there, and it feels like it’s just me and Sarah having a conversation about food.

But then, Sarah throws me the one question that I was most dreading.

“So, Abby, what is your biggest inspiration?”

I freeze. My eyes involuntarily flicker to where Vanessa is seated on the sidelines with the other judges, her afro a glorious halo under the studio lights. It would be so easy to point at her, to say her name. She’s the woman I’ve idolized for years, the dream I’ve chased in my sleep, and she’s right here.

But then, like a flickering montage, faces start appearing in my mind.

John, my sous-chef who’s always got my back, even when we have our disagreements; Ethan, my restaurant manager who has never missed a day of work, no matter how many times I’ve begged him to take a vacation; Daisy, the ever-smiling waitress who uplifts everyone’s mood despite the weather; Chloe, my best friend in the entire world; Anton, the homeless man who turned out to be like an uncle to me; and then, finally Karl.

Karl.

My ex husband, the man who I thought I would never see again. The man who almost took a dozen bullets for me, all over a bag of truffles.

Tears begin to well up in my eyes. My crew—my family—who’ve stood by me, who’ve celebrated every small win and endured every big loss. How can I not mention them?

I look back at Sarah, then into the camera, into the eyes of whoever is watching this—be it one person or a million.

“You know, Sarah,” I begin, “I’m tempted to name some of the industry giants, the Michelin-starred chefs, or the food critics. But if I’m honest, my biggest inspiration comes from somewhere much closer to home.”

Sarah’s eyebrows go up, intrigued. The audience leans in, as if they’re collectively holding their breath. Even Vanessa seems to perk up from her seat.

“It’s my team,” I say, my voice tinged with emotion. “My staff at La Belle Vie. Every last one of them. They’re the true heroes of every dish that comes out of my kitchen, the backbone of every service we provide. They’ve been there through thick and thin, through failed recipes and kitchen meltdowns, through stellar reviews and terrible ones.”

I pause, and time seems to stop. I glance up across the crowd, and my heart does a flip.

Because amongst the crowd, I see one familiar pair of brown eyes, sitting all the way in the back, looking down at me.

Karl.

I clear my throat, my eyes locking with his. “They… They remind me every day why I fell in love with cooking in the first place—because it brings people together, in the best and worst of times, even when you want to give up. So, yes, my biggest inspiration is this incredible group of people I’m lucky to call not just my staff, but my friends.”

I pause, letting my words hang in the air. A smattering of applause erupts, growing louder and echoing in the studio.