Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

The meeting disperses, and my staff go their separate ways. Karl lingers, shuffling his feet in a way that

makes me think he has something on his mind.

“Abby, do you have a moment?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“If you’re worried about the article, I can help you find a good journalist. Someone who can capture the

essence of the place, the people,” he says.

I’m touched by his offer. “That’s really kind of you, Karl. Thanks.”

He clears his throat. “I could walk you home. We could talk more about it.”

I hesitate for a moment, considering. Then, I nod. “Alright, let’s walk.”

Enter title…

We leave the restaurant, locking up for the night. The street is mostly quiet, a few cars passing by, and a

low buzz of activity from the nearby bars. The air is cool, a bit crisp, but not uncomfortable.

“You know, I’ve been really impressed with how the restaurant is doing,” Karl says, breaking the silence.

“Oh?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice.

“Yeah. I mean, I remember being so pissed off when you entered that cook-off. Thought you were going to

ruin our chances of going to the Alpha party together. But look at you now, making headlines. I’m sorry

that I ever acted like that. I should have been more supportive.”

I look at him, shocked and a bit touched by his candidness. “That’s really sweet of you to say, Karl.”

He shrugs, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his l*ps. “Just stating facts. I’m proud of you, Abby.

Really, I am.”

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” I reply. “And I’m glad you came back, after everything

that happened. So I guess in a way, I’m also sorry—sorry for storming out on you back at the house.”

He sighs. “I’m more surprised you let me back, especially after what happened with Adam. Thanks for

forgiving me.”

I stop walking, looking him square in the eye. “Let’s get one thing clear: I haven’t entirely forgiven you for

that. And I don’t know if I ever will. But I do understand that your intentions, misguided as they were, came

from a place of caring.”

Karl nods, solemn. “I get that. And I mean it when I say I’ll never pull a stunt like that again.”

“I’m glad to call you my friend, Karl, after everything we’ve been through,” I say, extending my hand.

He looks at me, then down at my hand, and for a moment, I think I see a flicker of disappointment in his

eyes. But then it’s gone, and he takes my hand, giving it a firm shake.

“Me too, Abby. Me too.”

We resume our walk, nearing my apartment building. “Speaking of friends,” Karl says, “Have you talked to

Chloe recently?:

My face falls. “No, I haven’t. She won’t return my calls. I’ve pretty much given up at this point.”