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

line of sight,

greets, his eyes searching mine for something—confirmation,

reassurance.

cautiously.

a lopsided grin, holding the cup out to me. “Wanted

the way I like it. But I can

butter me up

low and surprisingly endearing sound.

say, letting a slightly serious tone take over my voice.

I can’t come with you.

disappointment that flickers across his eyes is

simply nods.

second attempt to change my mind. Just

amount of times I’ve heard Karl utter those

I’m surprised. “That’s it?” I find myself saying. “You’re not

anyway?”

your decision whether you go or not. I

a chance to take a little time off.

to leave, and I’m left standing here, coffee cup in hand, my eyes wide

ulterior motives behind inviting me

if that was ever the case

…

the clock again—2:37 p.m., the post-lunch lull

a brief moment before the chaos of dinner service

put out or crises to deal with, I decide to leave the

as I do, I

first instinct is to approach them, maybe

that the conversation will go south, but something holds me

stand here, just out of their

what kind of food do you like?” Karl asks. His voice is genuine, not the flirty tone some

talking to a pretty

basic, but I honestly just love Italian food,” Daisy says. “I feel like I

for the rest

my own heart. Have you tried the fettuccine alfredo

exclaims. “It’s the best dish on the menu, in my opinion! I kind

dishes like that.”

in response. I can hear the note of pride in his

makes my heart wander a bit in