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.

Enter title…

“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.

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