Chapter 0219


    Abby


    On the morning of the cook-off, I’m already awake before my rm even starts buzzing.


    Last night, I hardly slept at all thanks to abination of excitement over the cook-off and my wine-


    induced conversation with Karl. All night, his words swirled around my mind: “I’m really proud of you,”


    he had said.


    Hearing Karl say those words was so unexpected, yet so heartwarming at the same time. I can’t get


    them out of my mind, like a lost puppy who’s found her home, or a shipwreck survivor lost at sea who


    has found a lifeline. It’s strange how much of an impact it has had on me.


    As soon as my rm goes off, though, I pop out of bed and thrust myself into cook-off mode. Today is


    not the day to be thinking about my ex-husband. Today, I need to focus on winning that cook-off,


    otherwise all of my efforts will have been for nothing.


    After a slightly-too-hot shower, I pull my hair back into a neat and tidy bun, then get dressed. I know I’ll


    be asked to change into a uniform for the cook-off, so I opt for something simple: a t-shirt, jeans, and a


    jacket.


    “Okay, Abby, this is it,” I murmur to myself, checking my reflection onest time in the mirror before I


    head out. “Today’s the day you show them all.”


    I rush down the stairs, grabbing the go-bag that I preparedst night and heading out to the cafe down


    my street for a quick pick-me-up before the day begins. The bell jingles over my head as I step inside,


    and I’m greeted by theforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods.


    The barista, a sweetdy named Carol, is behind the counter.


    “Morning, Abby! The usual?” she asks.


    “Morning, Carol. Yes, please—ck coffee, one sugar, and a croissant.”


    The transaction is brief, and soon I’m sipping my coffee, savoring the bitter liquid as it glides down my


    throat. It’s like a little cup of courage.


    Then, with my coffee in one hand and a bagged croissant in the other, I start my brisk walk toward


    John’s apartment. The air is crisp, the sun rising in pastel hues, and I feel optimistic about today.


    The streets of the citye alive as I walk, each step invigorating me further. I can already imagine


    John’s surprised face when he sees how pumped I am, and I hope he feels the same.


    Speaking of John, I figure I should call him and check to make sure he’s awake and ready. Reaching


    Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    into my pocket, I grab my phone and dial his number, already scripting what I’ll say in my head.


    I wait. It rings and rings but goes to voicemail.


    “That’s strange,” I mumble, feeling a little bubble of concern rise in my chest. My fingers tap nervously


    on the screen as I dial his number again, hoping that he didn’t forget to set his rm. Still no answer.


    “I hope he’s okay,” I whisper to myself, staring at the phone as if willing it toe to life. I leave a


    voicemail, a twinge of impatience creeping into my tone. “John, it’s Abby. I’m on my way. We have the


    After I hang up, I let out a deep sigh. “Maybe he’s taking a shower,” I mutter, shaking my head. John


    wouldn’t y hooky on me, not with something like this. He’s never been that type.


    My boots click against the pavement as I approach the subway entrance, jogging down the steps and


    then stopping in front of the turnstile. I reach for my subway card, but just as I’m about to swipe it, my


    phone buzzes.


    It’s John.


    I stare at the screen for a beat, my heart pounding a little faster. Good, I think to myself; he’s awake


    after all. With a flick of my thumb, I ept the call and hold my phone to my ear, bncing my coffee in


    the crook of my arm as I swipe my subway card.