Standing in the alley, the tension between Karl and me is almost palpable, like a living, breathing entity that neither of us can ignore. His eyes search mine, as if trying to excavate the truth from deep within me. “Is it true, Abby? Your wolf is—” I cut him off, not wanting to delve into that
My eyes snap back to him, incredulous. “Get out, John.” “What?” “Get out,” I repeat, my voice icy. “And come back when you’re ready to speak to me with the respect I deserve as your boss.” For a moment, he just stares at me, as if trying to decide whether or not I’m serious. Then, with a huff
The aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering tomato sauce fills the air as I sit at my desk, reviewing the inventory for the week. It’s still early in the day, but the restaurant has already started to come alive. My eyes flit over numbers and figures, but my thoughts keep drifting to the chaos
“What happened?” I rush over, my eyes narrowing with concern. “I, erm… I rolled my ankle while serving table nine. Just give me five minutes and I’ll get back out there,” she says, grimacing with each word. I take one look at her flushed face, her ankle swelling before my eyes, and shake my head
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: Co
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
Abby The night weighs heavy on me, each mile that separates Karl and me adding to the burden I didn’t think I’d ever have to bear again. I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, trying to bury the memories of our argument and the sting of his words. It’s infuriating that he would
“Listen, I just came to talk,” he finally says. “If you don’t want to, I understand.” I can't look away from him; his presence is too overwhelming, too filled with a history I’ve been trying to ignore. “You came to talk? Really? Because last time we talked, you made it abundantly clear how you fel