Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 115

Karl

Abby’s face looks apprehensive, which was exactly what I feared.

When my secretary called me last week to come home for a pack meeting, my original plan was to slip back home on the day of the meeting and come back to the city without uttering a word. I wanted to just get my duties over with and return to my task of trying to win Abby back, but plans have changed.

After everything that’s happened recently, I want her by my side. And although I won’t admit it, in a selfish way, I want her to see our old home and remember what we had together. Maybe then we can move things forward.

“Well?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. “Tell me. What’s the catch?”

I pause, choosing my words carefully. “I have to go back to my pack this weekend for a meeting. It’s family stuff, council discussions, you know. The usual.” I hesitate, reading her face, which now shows a mix of curiosity and guardedness.

“And…?”

“And… I’d like you to come with me.”

The sudden stillness in her eyes, the subtle twitch of her lips, tells me this isn’t what she expected. “Karl, you know I have responsibilities here, right? There’s the restaurant first and foremost, and beyond that, I have to practice for the cook-off.”

“Yeah, I know. But look, it’s a weekend. We’d be back first thing Sunday morning. The restaurant can manage without you for two days, and as for the cook-off…” I grin, trying to channel some semblance of charm into my plea, “you can practice in my kitchen. I’ve got it all set up—really, anything you’d need.”

Her eyes narrow, but not dismissively. She’s considering it, I can tell. I can still remember how much she loved our old kitchen; she was the one who designed it, after all.

It’s a home chef’s paradise, complete with two ovens, an industrial grade dishwasher, a huge counter island, and an entire pantry full of cooking supplies.

She used to spend hours in there every day, cooking up some new concoction or baking something extravagant. Half of my staff put on weight while she was living there because she was always giving out some goodie or another.

When she left, though, it started collecting dust. I’ve hardly used it since I divorced her, but it’s still the same, more or less. And recently, I’ve had the place prepared for her.

Just in case she decides to home home.

“No,” she says, shaking her head decisively. “It’s not a good idea. Karl, we talked about this. The two of us being there again…”

Her voice trails off, but I know what she was about to say: that the two of us being there again could make things even more complicated than they already are. Duh. That was kind of the whole point. But I won’t reveal that to her.

“Listen,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I had the guest room all set up for you. Remember how much you used to love that room? Your own private balcony and an en suite bathroom.”

Abby pauses for a few moments as recognition flashes through her eyes. The guest bedroom was another room that she adored. She always loved showing it off whenever we had overnight guests. And sometimes, when we had a fight or when she wasn’t feeling well, she even slept in there.

“You’re trying to butter me up.” Abby’s words are terse, and she ends the sentence by finishing off her drink.

Caught off guard by her intuition, I chuckle, still trying to sound casual. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

“But why?” she murmurs. “What do you really want from me, Karl?”