Chapter 0281


    “Okay, I’ll... get ready then. You’ll be okay out here?”


    Karl waves a hand dismissively. “Go ahead. You got a mirror somewhere so I can get to work on…” He


    gestures to himself, to his tousled hair, his white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.


    “...This?”


    I nod and point to the hallway. “There’s a full-length mirror over there. Good luck.”


    He grins. “Same to you.”


    …


    The steam curls around me and smooths away my tense muscles. It’s funny how I never realize how


    badly I need a hot shower until I’m finally in it, and now I don’t want to get out. But once my body is


    washed and my hair is shampooed, I don’t have much more time. With a reluctant sigh, I finally turn off


    the water and step out, wrapping a towel around me.


    First, I get started on my hair. The sound of the blowdryer fills the bathroom as I get to work, running a


    brush through it until it’s all dry. Then, I pull it back into a neat bun that sits at the nape of my neck.


    Have to make sure no hairs get in the food, so I slick it down with a tiny bit of gel, both to make it look


    sleek and keep it in ce.


    Next, I slip into my chef’s whites, which I had professionally cleaned just for today. They’re a bit too


    crisp against my skin, but they look nice. I slip into a pair offortable loafers, then nce in the


    mirror.


    Looks good. Now, makeup.


    I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, and that’s when the memories of the cook-off return. The thick


    foundation, the dramatic eyes, and lips painted a bright shade of red. Falseshes, too, which I


    remember being horribly ufortable when I cried.


    My hand freezes as I’m about to reach into my makeup bag for my foundation.


    Do I want this? To cake my face, to ce the focus of tonight on my appearance rather than my


    abilities and my professionalism? To feel ufortable, like I’m wearing a mask?


    Or do I just want to be me? Abby. The chef, the restaurant owner, the woman with smile lines and a tiny


    hint of crow’s feet beginning to show at the corners of my eyes. The woman who has been dragged


    through hell and back for her craft.


    A woman. Not a doll.


    I shake my head and zip my makeup bag shut. I choose thetter when ites to my cooking.


    Tonight isn’t about a perfect face or longshes. It’s about cooking the best damn meal those judges


    have ever tasted. And I don’t need lipstick to do that.


    As I step out of my room, the air suddenly feels a few degrees cooler. Karl meets my gaze, and for a


    moment, time seems to stop.


    He’s standing in the living room, his hands in his pockets. He’s ditched his tuxedo jacket and tie, opting


    instead for just his crisp white shirt. He smoothed it down and rolled the sleeves more neatly, and


    although he’s not in chef’s whites like me, he looks good.


    Really good.


    “You look perfect in your chef’s coat, Abby,” he says, and his voice is soft.


    “Thank you, Karl,” I manage, voice steady even though my heart is pounding a mile a minute in my


    chest. “You look perfect, too.” New ch?pter avаble o? Dr?мanоvеls.cоm


    And then, like clockwork the moment the hour hand meets 7:00, it happens.


    Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    The doorbell rings. The judges have arrived.