Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chapter 116
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

sight,

he greets, his eyes searching mine for something—confirmation,

reassurance.

I reply cautiously. “You’re here

cup out to me. “Wanted to get some prep work

light, just the way I like it. But I can sense Karl’s true

to butter

surprisingly endearing sound. “Is

slightly serious tone take over my voice.

but I can’t come with you.

eyes is subtle but unmistakable. But much to my

nods.

mind. Just those two

heard

saying. “You’re not gonna try to convince me to

anyway?”

taking a step back. “It’s your decision whether you go or not. I

take a little time off. But if you don’t want to go, I won’t

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

last night was to assume that he had ulterior motives behind inviting me

now, I’m starting to wonder if

…

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

before the chaos of dinner

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

I do,

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

lighten the mood as I suspect that the conversation will

here, just out of their line of sight but

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

to a pretty young

a little basic, but I honestly just love Italian

pound of pasta a day for the rest

woman after my own heart. Have you tried the

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

dishes like that.”

Karl says in response. I can hear

about it makes my heart wander a bit in my