Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 76: All Buttered Up
Abby

My apartment door shuts behind me with a satisfying click after a long day of being away from home.

With a sigh, I throw my bag on the couch, and flop down beside it.

But it’s not long before I’m on my feet again, pacing my apartment floor as I chew on my lower lip.

Karl’s proposition still lingers in my mind: going with him to the pack? To our old home?

My first instinct screams at me to not go, of course. To return to our old home together? How is that not

a recipe for disaster?

As I finally decide to pour myself a glass of wine to calm my frayed nerves, I think to myself that right

now, I really do have it all. A successful career, friends who love me, and the cook-off coming up. Why

throw a wrench into it by letting Karl back into my life in that way? We’re doing just fine as friends,

keeping everything at arm’s length between us. There’s no need for it to become more than that.

But then, there’s still a tiny sliver of myself that almost considers going with him. My life was once

entwined with his, after all. The long talks in our garden at sunset, the joy of cooking in a kitchen I had

designed myself.

But that was a lifetime ago.

I take a sip of wine, letting the bitter flavor linger on my tongue before swallowing. “Tomorrow,” I

resolve, “I’ll tell him I can’t go. It’s for the best.”

…

The scent of freshly brewed coffee greets me the moment I walk into the restaurant. It’s comforting and

slightly bittersweet, but also unexpected. I should be the only one here right now, and I didn’t see

Ethan’s car on the way in; but I’ve hardly made it halfway through the door when Karl suddenly steps

my line of sight,

searching

reassurance.

cautiously. “You’re here

cup out to me. “Wanted

and take the cup. It’s sweet and light, just the way I like it. But I can sense Karl’s

trying to butter me

low and surprisingly endearing sound. “Is

letting a slightly serious tone take over my voice. “And actually, I’ve thought about it.

but I can’t come with you. It’s not a good idea…

is subtle but unmistakable. But much

simply nods.

argument, no second attempt to change my mind. Just those two words: “I

heard Karl utter those

find myself saying. “You’re

anyway?”

“It’s your decision whether you go

little time off. But if you don’t

coffee cup in hand, my eyes wide

had ulterior motives behind inviting me back to

to wonder if that

…

to the clock again—2:37 p.m., the post-lunch lull when the restaurant can finally take

for a brief moment before the chaos of

no immediate fires to put out or crises to deal with, I decide to leave the sanctuary of my office

the floor. But as I do,

the kitchen, chatting amicably. My first instinct is to approach them, maybe

mood as I suspect that the conversation will go south, but

stand here, just out of their

of food do you like?” Karl asks. His voice is genuine, not the

talking to

I know it’s a little basic, but I honestly just love Italian food,” Daisy says.

the rest of my life and be

after my own heart. Have you tried the fettuccine

dish on the menu, in my opinion!

dishes like that.”

specialties,” Karl says in response. I can hear the note of pride

it makes my heart wander a bit