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

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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

into my line of sight, a coffee cup in hand.

“Morning,” he greets, his eyes searching mine for something—confirmation, maybe, or perhaps

reassurance.

“Morning,” I reply cautiously. “You’re here early.”

He offers a lopsided grin, holding the cup out to me. “Wanted to get some prep work done. Coffee?”

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

motives. “You’re trying to butter me up again, aren’t you?”

He chuckles, a low and surprisingly endearing sound. “Is it working?”

“No,” I say, letting a slightly serious tone take over my voice. “And actually, I’ve thought about it. I’m

sorry, Karl, but I can’t come with you. It’s not a good idea… for multiple reasons.”

The disappointment that flickers across his eyes is subtle but unmistakable. But much to my surprise,

he simply nods. “I understand.”

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

count the amount of times I’ve heard Karl utter those words on one hand.

In fact, I’m surprised. “That’s it?” I find myself saying. “You’re not gonna try to convince me to go

anyway?”

“No, Abby,” he says, taking a step back. “It’s your decision whether you go or not. I just wanted to invite

you, give you a chance to take a little time off. But if you don’t want to go, I won’t push it.”

He turns to leave, and I’m left standing here, coffee cup in hand, my eyes wide with shock. My first

instinct last night was to assume that he had ulterior motives behind inviting me back to our old home,

but now, I’m starting to wonder if that was ever the case at all.

…

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

breath for a brief moment before the chaos of dinner service begins.

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

a quick walk around the floor. But as I do, I notice Karl talking with Daisy. And it sounds… pleasant?

They’re by the kitchen, chatting amicably. My first instinct is to approach them, maybe crack a joke or

two to lighten the mood as I suspect that the conversation will go south, but something holds me back.

Instead, I stand here, just out of their line of sight but close enough to overhear.

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

adopt when talking to a pretty young woman.

“Hmm… I know it’s a little basic, but I honestly just love Italian food,” Daisy says. “I feel like I could eat

a pound of pasta a day for the rest of my life and be happy.”

Karl chuckles. “Ah, a woman after my own heart. Have you tried the fettuccine alfredo here yet?”

“I did!” Daisy exclaims. “It’s the best dish on the menu, in my opinion! I kind of wish we had more

dishes like that.”

“It’s one of Abby’s specialties,” Karl says in response. I can hear the note of pride in his voice, and

something about it makes my heart wander a bit in my chest.

I bite my lip, a smile tugging at its corners. Is this the same Karl who used to shrug off small talk, who

always said that he would rather be anywhere but engaging in ‘unnecessary’ conversation? I feel a

sudden warmth flush through me, a pride I wasn’t expecting.

He’s… actually making an effort to be pleasant and connect with the team.

But what catches my attention next nearly floors me.

“You know, you should tell her if you really think it’s the best dish on the menu,” Karl says, his voice

taking on a more sincere tone. “Abby values honest feedback. And who knows, maybe she’d even

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consider incorporating more Italian dishes into the menu.”

Daisy gasps slightly. “Really, you think she would do that? I mean, I’m just a waitress…”

“Abby listens to everyone,” Karl asserts, and now I’m the one blushing, touched by the faith he seems

to have in me. “Really, try it. I’m sure she’d be excited to hear your opinions.”

Daisy seems genuinely surprised. “You know what?” she says. “I think I will try it. Thanks, Karl.”

“No problem.”

As they finish their conversation, I decide to quickly slip back into my office before they notice me.

Once the door closes behind me, I lean against it, a smile plastered to my lips.

Karl didn’t know I was there, so in my mind, there’s no way it was just an act in order to get back with

me. Not to mention that he was so sweet and polite to Daisy, and spoke so highly of me—is it really

possible that he’s changing after all, even just a little bit?

Part of me wants to push these thoughts away and assume the worst, but another part of me doesn’t.

And in fact, that latter part feels larger now, stronger than the former. If Karl really is changing for the

better, working on himself, trying his best…

Then I can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, things could turn out after all.

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