Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chapter 120

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Chapter 120

We weave through the streets, the bright signs of late-night diners and convenience stores flashing by

in a blur. For a moment, the weight of my job—the critics, the health inspectors, the constantly ringing

phone—lifts, and I find myself lost in the rhythmic hum of the car’s engine.

Karl finally breaks the silence. “You looked like you were having one hell of a dream back there. Was it

about a beach, a tropical drink, and a server shortage all at once?”

I chuckle. “More like a health inspection nightmare. I can’t seem to escape the restaurant, even in my

sleep.”

He glances over at me with a smirk. “Well, dreams are just unpaid labor then, aren’t they? Surely you

could get compensation somehow.”

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“Exactly. My subconscious is working overtime,” I reply, my words tinged with a fatigue I can’t hide.

We reach the front of my apartment complex—a red brick building with ivy crawling up the sides and a

tall set of steps leading to the front door. It’s surrounded by other buildings that look just like it. I

remember when I first moved here, I almost walked into someone else’s apartment. That was

embarrassing.

Karl pulls up to the curb and turns off the engine, then looks at me, his eyes searching my face. “Abby,

are you sure you don’t need a vacation? My offer still stands. Remember the pool and the hot tub?”

I look away. Of course I remember the pool and the hot tub, and all of the luxuries of our old home. But

it doesn’t mean that I think I should go back.

“And,” he leans in a little, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone, “I could take you to some of those

places you used to love. Remember the little cafe with the perfect cappuccinos? Or that park where we

used to hang out?”

I feel a nostalgic tug at my heart. Karl’s words paint a vivid picture, transporting me momentarily back

to those carefree days when life felt easier, lighter. But then the logical side of my brain kicks back in,

reminding me of the bad times: of fights, slammed doors, secrets.

“Thanks for the offer,” I say, still looking out the window. “But I can’t. You know that.”

“Why not?” He asks.

“Because…” I shrug, not wanting to delve into it all right now, and decide to tell a half-truth. “The

restaurant needs me.”

Karl sighs. “The restaurant won’t burn to the ground if you take two days to yourself, you know.”

I sigh, feeling the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile. “That’s easy for you to say, Karl. You’re not

the one dealing with the chaos day in and day out.”

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Karl studies me for a moment, then leans back, nodding. “I get it. The restaurant is your baby, and it’s

hard to let go. But even parents need a break sometimes, you know?”

“I know,” I concede, “but not now.” I open my mouth to say more, to explain to him that I can’t bring

myself to walk those halls again where our marriage fell apart, but I choose not to. Not tonight, at least.

Karl’s eyes hold a hint of disappointment, but he covers it quickly with a warm smile, taking me by

surprise yet again. “Alright, Abby. No harm in asking, I suppose.”

We sit there for a moment, the quiet stretching between us, filled only by the soft hum of the car’s idling

engine and the rain gently pitter-pattering against the windows.

“Thanks for the ride, Karl,” I finally say, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Karl shoots me another melancholic look, but says nothing more. Instead, he nods slowly, his eyes

meeting mine. “Goodnight, Abby.”

“Goodnight, Karl.”

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