Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

#Chapter 84: Without a Date

Abby NôvelDrama.Org holds this content.

I’m seated on a lounge chair in the back lawn, soaking in the sun and the chirping of birds as a

soothing backdrop. The air smells of freshly cut grass, and I’m surrounded by the vibrant colors of the

garden—reds, yellows, and blues.. It’s peaceful, almost idyllic, but my mind is elsewhere.

I keep thinking about Karl’s words yesterday, how he never made an official announcement about my

fidelity. All morning, I’ve been getting strange looks from members of the staff—aside from Elsie, who

has never been anything but pleasant.

Part of me wants to announce it myself to set the record straight, but something tells me that most of

the staff who are unabashedly loyal to Karl wouldn’t believe me. And besides, he should do it himself.

He should be the one who admits to his shortcomings, not me.

Suddenly, my phone rings, breaking me out of my reverie. I glance down and let out a soft sigh. Ethan’s

name is flashing on the screen.

“Hey Ethan, what’s up?” I answer, my voice casual, but inside I’m wondering if something went wrong

after all. Perhaps the restaurant went up in flames, or that food critic came back for another bad

experience, or the place got robbed. Maybe all three.

“Abby, sorry to bother you on your time off. Quick question—how would you like us to handle the

supplier transition for next week? The new seafood vendor is offering different terms.”

I open my mouth to dive into a detailed explanation, logistics dancing at the forefront of my mind, when

I remember Karl’s words about taking time off. A moment of conflict grips me, but I decide to heed his

advice.

“Um, go ahead and negotiate the best terms possible but keep it in line with our usual arrangements.

And if you could, save any future questions for when I’m back. I’m supposed to be taking a break.”

“Ah, right. I apologize for interrupting your vacation. Where’d you wind up going anyway, if you don’t

mind me asking?”

“I’m… visiting family,” I lie smoothly, guilt settling somewhere in my stomach. I can’t tell Ethan—or

anyone, for that matter—that I’m visiting my old home with my ex-husband.

Just then, the phone rustles, and a new voice bursts through. “Abby! It’s Chloe. Are you with Karl?”

My cheeks flush involuntarily at her abrupt, and astute, question. “Chloe, what—”

“Cut the crap. You and Karl taking time off simultaneously? Very suspicious, Abby.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “It’s just a coincidence, Chloe.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts. “Listen, Karl’s been gaining brownie points lately in my book and yours, but

don’t be stupid. No hooking up. Got it?”

“Chloe, I assure you, I’m not with Karl.”

“Mm-hmm, whatever you say. Just be careful.”

I sigh as I hang up the phone, Chloe’s words ringing all too clearly in my head. She’s right; it would be

stupid. Really, really stupid. Which is why it hasn’t even crossed my mind.

Okay, maybe it has crossed my mind. But that was just last night, after dinner and too much wine. I

only thought about what it would be like to invite Karl back to my bed, to reignite our old passions, for

the briefest of moments. I won’t act on those fantasies. I can’t.

Before I can dwell on it further, I notice Gerald standing in the doorway that leads to the back lawn.

He’s holding a tray with a glass of iced tea. His face is impassive as he walks over.

“Miss Abby, your iced tea,” he says, but his voice is laced with a tone that I can't quite place. It’s terse,

almost cold. The butler never was the warmest with me, but this is different.

“Thank you so much, Gerald,” I respond kindly, taking the glass from him.

“As long as it keeps the mind clear,” he says. “One wouldn’t want to make foolish choices, correct?”

I pause for a moment, confused. “Sorry?”

Gerald also pauses, but it’s almost for dramatic effect more than anything else. “Well,” he says, “it’s

important to keep one’s priorities straight; especially with matters of fidelity,” he adds, his gaze steady,

unyielding.

My heart drops a notch. Gerald has been with the family for years, but never has he been this forward,

this judgmental. Not to me, at least. My mouth opens to question him, but he turns sharply and walks

back into the house before I get the chance.

As I sit there, the iced tea untouched beside me, I realize that Karl’s failure to set the record straight

really did make an impact on the way that these people see me; especially Gerald, who has been by

Karl’s side for years.

Truthfully, I can’t be angry with Gerald. He’s worked with Karl’s adoptive family for decades, literally

watched Karl grow up once he was taken in here. He’s steadfastly loyal, and clearly angry with me. But

his anger is founded on mistruths.

The sooner that Karl makes his official announcement, the better. If I’m going to become friends with

him and make trips to visit, then I need to confront him.

And if he doesn’t come clean, then it’s high time that I set the record straight. The whispers, the

suspicious glances, the underlying tension—they have to stop. And they will, even if I have to be the

one to stop them.

I look back at the glass of iced tea, its contents shimmering in the afternoon light. I take a sip, letting

the cold liquid quench my thirst, but not my need for rectification. As I set the glass down, I make up my

mind.

When Karl gets home, we’re going to have to talk. And this time, there’ll be no room for waiting. He

needs to make this announcement today, or I’m leaving. And I won’t be coming back.

…

The moment Karl walks through the door, I can almost feel the air shift. I’ve been preparing for this all

afternoon, practicing in my head what I’ll say to him.

But just as I’m opening my mouth to talk to him, he interrupts.

“Sorry for the short notice, Abby, but I’m hosting an Alpha dinner tonight at our place,” he announces,

hanging his jacket on the hook beside the door.

An Alpha dinner. I feel a sudden jolt of excitement that momentarily overpowers my need to confront

Karl; it’s been so long since I had the chance to prepare a feast for the Alphas. My fingers already itch

to chop, saute, and garnish.

“Oh, that sounds fantastic. What’s the occasion?”

“Mainly council matters, and a few other things,” he replies, but there’s a pause that tells me he’s not

giving me the full story. “I’d like you to attend as my date.”

His words take me by surprise. “Your date?”

He nods, his eyes searching my face. “Yes, you don’t need to worry about the food. Just be there with

me.”

There’s a gravity to his words, as though he’s trying to bridge a chasm between us with this single

dinner. But I’m not ready to play the perfect Alpha’s wife. Those days have come and gone. That’s not

me anymore, and we’re not together.

“So, all of your old dresses are still in the wardrobe, or I can take you out shopping if you—”

“Sorry,” I interrupt, shaking my head. “That won’t be necessary. I won’t be your date, Karl.”

His face falls for a split second. He looks disappointed, thoroughly sol. But I won’t back down on this. I

expect him to throw a tantrum, or at the very least to make a complaint. And yet, somehow, he regains

his composure without a hint of anger.

“Alright,” he says, though I can hear the hint of disappointment still threaded through his voice. “But you

don’t have to cook, Abby. I can have the staff prepare—”

“No,” I interrupt again, my voice firm. “I want to cook. Just get me the ingredients, and I’ll handle it.”

He hesitates, his gaze locked onto mine, as if weighing whether to argue or give in. Finally, he sighs.

“Okay. What do you need?”

I rattle off a list of ingredients for dishes I’ve already begun to visualize in my head: seared salmon,

roasted vegetables, a decadent chocolate torte for dessert. He nods, committing it all to memory, but

there’s a lingering pause, a space filled with all the things we’re not saying to each other.

“Alright, I’ll get everything you need,” he says at last, breaking the silence.

“Thank you.”

He returns the smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is there anything else?”

There’s so much more I want to say, one particular question that bristles at the tip of my tongue. Why

hasn’t he made that announcement yet?

But the timing isn’t right. A confrontation now, with the Alpha dinner just hours away, would only throw

us into chaos. So I push down my questions, my doubts, my insecurities, and shake my head.

“No,” I say, “that’s it for now.”

He nods, though I can see he’s not entirely convinced. “Alright then. I’ll go get the ingredients.”