Page 25 of The Ex-cavenger Hunt

“Challenge accepted.” Winking, I swipe a dollop of batter from the edge of the bowl and feign a throwing stance, my muscles coiled and ready for action.

“Easy there, tiger.” He holds up his hands in surrender, but the twinkle in his eye tells me he’s ready for whatever comes next. And so am I, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and something deeper, something I’m not quite ready to name.

We stand there for a moment, facing each other, our chests heaving with laughter and unspoken emotions. The air between us crackles with tension, a delicious anticipation that makes my skin tingle and my blood sing.

The rest of the time, Marco ignores us, his attention focused solely on the other participants, and we continue working, our earlier mishaps forgotten as we find our rhythm in the kitchen.

The class winds down, and I’m still basking in the glow of our culinary adventure gone awry when Marco’s voice suddenly cuts through the buzz of the kitchen. It’s sharp, derisive—a tone that clashes with the one he used earlier when he was all smiles and flirtatious winks.

“Really, Janet?” he exclaims, his words dripping with condescension as he holds up a charred excuse for a soufflé, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “This is what you call cooking? My two-year-old nephew could make more appealing goop than this shit.”

I freeze, spatula in hand, as does everyone else, my heart plummeting to the pit of my stomach. The energy in the room shifts, and it feels like someone popped our bubble of fun, the air suddenly thick with tension. Poor Janet’s face crumples, the blush on her cheeks a stark contrast to the white of her chef’s hat, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I . . . I thought—” she stammers, her voice trembling as she tries to defend herself, but Marco waves off her explanation with a flick of his wrist, his eyes cold and unforgiving.

“Save it. You’re not getting a refund for this. Some people just don’t have what it takes,” he says, tossing the burnt dish into the sink with a clatter that echoes my racing heart, the sound making me flinch.

A heavy silence follows, and I can’t help but glance at Ethan, my eyes seeking his for comfort and reassurance. His brow furrows slightly, eyes darkening with disapproval, his jaw clenched tight with barely contained anger.

“Hey, come on, Marco,” I interject, my voice steadier than I feel, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “Everyone has an off day in the kitchen, right? Even you must’ve burned a dish or two in your time.”

“Poor Lily, naïve as ever I see,” Marco says, his lips twisting into a condescending smirk, but some of the tension dissolves, the room collectively exhaling as people resume their tasks, though the air is tainted now, thick with discomfort.

As I help Janet clean up her station, offering a sympathetic smile and a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, I can’t shake the cold realization creeping over me, my stomach churning with a mixture of anger and disappointment. This is why we broke up. He wanted everything done his way and perfectly, his need for control overshadowing any semblance of compassion or understanding. I couldn’t be with someone so controlling and manipulative, my heart constricting at the thought of the emotional toll it would take.

He’s charming and lovely, but there are two different personas living in that man, a Jekyll and a Hyde, that I can’t reconcile. And as I catch Ethan’s gaze across the room, his eyes filled with concern and a silent question, I know that I’ve made the right decision. My heart is finally free from the grip of a man who could never truly love me for who I am.

“Charming guy,” Ethan comments dryly once Marco is out of earshot, his lips twisting into a wry smile.

“Charm’s overrated,” I reply, tossing my apron onto the counter with more force than necessary, the fabric crumpling under the weight of my frustration. The image of Marco’s sneer lingers, burning in my mind like a brand. “We should go,” I mutter, my voice tight with barely contained emotion.

“I take it you know what happened between the two of you?” Ethan asks, his eyes searching mine for answers.

I give him a sharp nod, my jaw clenching as I untie his apron strings with trembling fingers. I turn on my heel, my footsteps echoing on the tile floor as I walk away, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Hey, I’m not the asshole here,” Ethan calls out, his footsteps quickening behind me as he tries to keep pace.

“Which I appreciate,” I reply, my voice softening slightly as I glance over my shoulder at him. “Maybe Zoe is right, and I didn’t miss anything when I let them go.”

“This is why we’re searching for them, to get answers—to find your future,” Ethan reminds me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder, a comforting warmth that seeps through my shirt and to my skin.

“Tonight was . . .” I search for the right word, wanting to capture the whirlwind of emotions that have taken hold of me.

“An epic saga of culinary misadventure?” Ethan offers, his lips quirking into a playful grin.

I laugh, nodding in agreement, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. “Exactly that. But also . . .” I hesitate, trying to articulate the shift I’m feeling—the realization that what’s real is right here beside me, my heart fluttering in my chest.

“Positive thoughts, Lily,” Ethan encourages, his voice gentle and reassuring.

“You’re right. It was an experience that also reminded me of another one,” I murmur, my eyes locking with his, a silent understanding passing between us.

“Thanks, by the way,” I say, glancing at Ethan, my heart swelling with gratitude. “For being the best cooking partner a girl could ask for, even if we did almost set the kitchen on fire.”

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice warm, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. “Although next time, maybe we stick to takeout?”

“Deal.” I link my arm through his, feeling the steady pulse of his laughter mingle with mine, our bodies swaying slightly as we walk out of the restaurant and into the night, the stars twinkling above us like a promise of things to come.

Chapter Fifteen

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