Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 80: New Horizons
Karl

The sun is barely hovering above the horizon as I pull up in front of Abby’s apartment building on

Friday morning.

I can’t help but smile as I think about the day ahead of us. My black car idles, the hum of its engine

drowned out by the pop song playing on the radio—a song I can easily imagine Abby singing along to,

although I don’t personally care for that kind of music myself.

With a deep breath, I turn off the engine and grab the to-go cup of her favorite coffee from the cup

holder.

She opens the door almost as soon as I knock, as though she was standing there, waiting. There’s a

look in her eyes that makes it seem as though she’s still on the fence about going. But the second her

eyes meet mine, the tension in her shoulders eases. Just a bit.

“Good morning,” I greet, handing her the coffee. “Figured you could use this.”

She grins, taking a sip immediately. “You read my mind.”

There’s a slight silence for a few moments. My eyes scan the inside of her apartment, where a bag sits

on the floor behind her; it’s packed haphazardly, no doubt. She’s never been the neatest traveler.

“Oh, one more thing,” she says before I can say anything. She slips her phone out of her pocket and

begins tapping furiously on the screen while her coffee cup balances precariously in the crook of her

elbow. “I have to tell Ethan—”

“Ethan will be fine without you,” I say, sn atching both the phone and the coffee cup away. “And so will

the restaurant. Just enjoy your time off, Abby.”

She glares at me for a moment, that signature stare of hers, but finally relaxes and lets out a deep sigh.

“You’re right.”

We hit the road within a few minutes. The morning sun streams through the windows, casting her face

in a warm amber glow. I plug in my phone and shuffle through a playlist I know she’ll love.

“So, long drive ahead. Music?”

“Surprise me,” she says, her fingers nervously tapping on the coffee cup.

I hit play, and the first chords of a nostalgic song—one that played at our wedding—fill the car. She

laughs, shaking her head. “Seriously?”

“Come on, it’s a classic,” I defend, bobbing my head to the beat.

Abby’s lips twitch upwards into a smile, but it quickly fades. I watch from my peripherals as she averts

window, occasionally sipping out of her coffee

back and forth to the song, ever so slightly. And that’s enough

comfortable silence for about half an

building off the main

place?”

glance in the direction she’s pointing, spotting the outline of an old, worn-down motel that

I say, a smile forming on

than once.”

She pauses, her voice taking on a more nostalgic tone. “You proposed to me

“Your memory is betraying you. I actually proposed at that fancy restaurant

city. What was it called—La Bella

gives me a sideways look. “Karl, you’ve got it all

fireplace where we used

voice trails off momentarily, leaving space where our memories belong.

to think about it, because if

car off the road.

what we used to do near that fireplace, but no, Abby, I proposed

hostess almost kicked us out for disturbing the peace

like this, both of us

electric, a reminder of simpler times. I’m about to

settle the argument when Abby’s eyes widen, and she bursts

both idiots,”

I ask, genuinely

both wrong,” she says, wiping a tear from the corner of her

“The lighthouse?”

says, shooting me a sideways glance. “The one near

restaurant attached?”

hits me like a bolt of lightning, and I

How could I

you proposed at the top,” she says,

tone. “And then we went to the

a moment, there’s a softness in her voice,

the briefest of moments, and it’s as if the

what we were. The regret hits me like a ton of

for too long, lurking in

to acknowledge it.

the towering trees give way to the familiar entrance

in a few months now, but it feels just as

Abby beside me.

I don’t see any glimmer of doubt

I’ll ever be,” she says, though I catch a note of

into view. Before

Gerald, our family butler for as long as I can remember, steps

when he sees me. “Mr. Karl!” he exclaims, shuffling out. “How nice to—” But then,

the moment his gaze lands

are you doing here?” he asks,

words.

Gerald,” Abby replies, her

though he says nothing more, his eyes say it all. Maybe I

he has a problem

with, not ours.

her bag, but she’s already grabbed it. “I got it,” she says, our fingers brushing

shoots up my arm, and I have to