Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 167

Abby

Five years ago.

It was the day before the annual Alpha party. I was standing in front of the mirror on a little platform while the seamstress worked her magic. My dress hugged my body perfectly in all the right places, an elegant black with flutter sleeves and a hem that trailed down to my ankles. I felt beautiful for the first time in a while.

That was when Karl walked in.

I saw him before the mirror did, his reflection coming into view with his brow furrowed. He was all business, phone pressed to his ear, his voice a low rumble of authority as he spoke to his Beta.

But when his eyes met mine in the glass, the world outside that room might as well have ceased to exist.

“Hold that thought,” he said into the phone, and I knew that for whatever reason, I had become the center of his universe once again. “I have to go.”

The call ended abruptly, and he motioned for the seamstress to give us privacy. With a respectful nod, she collected her things and left, leaving us alone.

I turned to face him and my heart was fluttering in my chest. “Is the dress alright?” My voice was steady, but the I couldn’t fully hide the uncertainty that was hiding behind my tone.

He approached, and I could see the struggle on his face. “You look… beautiful, Abby,” he admitted, and something in the way he said it made me believe him. “But the cleavage…”

He trailed off, and his jaw clenched. That was when I knew.

“There isn’t that much,” I murmured, more to myself than to him. But even my own words felt hollow.

I could see the apology in his eyes, the wish to be both the man he thought he should be and the man I needed. “I just worry about what the others might think,” he said, his voice low. “About you. About us.”

The words settled in my stomach like stones. To please him, to avoid the argument I could see brewing like a storm on the horizon, I gave in.

“I’ll have it fixed,” I said, my voice wavering slightly.

He thanked me with nothing but a nod, and then he was gone. I was left alone in the room, my thoughts whirling around me like a tornado. And suddenly, the dress that made me feel so sexy, so beautiful…

It felt like shackles.

I’m walking down the street now. It’s the day before my second chance, and I’m a ball of nerves. I’ve decided to get a coffee and wander around on my lunch break to force myself to get some fresh air.

For some reason, the memory of the dress from five years ago has been on my mind all morning. In a way, it’s more of a memory of Karl rather than the dress. Maybe it’s my brain trying to rationalize why we shouldn’t be together anymore, but it feels like more than that.

When Karl apologized to Daisy for making a comment about the buttons on her shirt, I guess I thought that that was that. But now, with the Alpha party on the horizon and my attendance all but set in stone, I’ve been wondering…

Has Karl really changed his antiquated views on modesty?

I know I won’t be attending the party in that way—I’ll be wearing my chef’s coat, not a beautiful gown—I just can’t stop wondering. If I had gone to the party as Karl’s date after all, would he still expect me to cover up? Would I even allow him to have a say in the matter like I did before?

Probably not. In fact, the thought of it makes me chuckle. I’m a different Abby now. I’m older, wiser, and more confident. I’d never let anyone tell me what to wear anymore.

But then, something happens.

I pass by a shop window, and the dress on display makes me backtrack. The pearlescent white satin shimmers in the daylight, the thin straps and plunging neckline both sexy and elegant at the same time. The back is low cut, perfect for showing off a woman’s curves. Just the sight of it makes my breath hitch.

Before I know it, I’m inside, the bell above the door announcing my entrance.

“I’ll take it,” I’m telling the saleswoman, and it’s as if my body is moving of its own accord. The price pops up on the screen, my card swipes, and my fingers tremble slightly as I walk out of the shop with the bag in my grasp.

Why? Why did I buy it?

“Just in case,” I murmur to myself, heading back to the restaurant with a newfound pep in my step. “Just in case…”

…

“You’ve reached Karl. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

I don’t know why I’ve called him again. Maybe it’s because he’s still on my mind. Maybe it’s because the pearlescent white dress that’s hanging on the back of my bedroom door is staring at me, reminding me of the date we had planned.

Or maybe I’m just being sentimental.

The beep sounds before I have the chance to hang up again. And I’m talking, the words spilling out of my mouth like an avalanche.

“Hey, Karl, it’s Abby.” My voice is steady even though I’m screaming on the inside. “I wanted to call you…”

A pause. My fingers grip the edge of the counter so tightly my knuckles are starting to turn white. I clear my throat.

“I’ve got news, and I guess I wish you were here to hear it in person.” Another pause, another cleared throat. “The security taped from the cook-off came in, and Daniel was exposed. But that’s not all… The judges, they’ve given me another chance.”

I can almost imagine his response. I’d like to think he’d be happy for me. Despite everything, in fact, I know he’d be happy for me.

“They want me to cater the Alpha party,” I continue, pressing the phone closer to my ear. “But there’s a catch.”

I find myself smiling, even in my solitude. “I have to cook them a private meal first. To test my skills, I guess.” The words feel almost absurd as I speak them aloud, like it’s too good to be true.

“I... I’d love it if you could be there, Karl. One last hurrah as my sous chef?” The invitation hangs in the air, met by silence, of course. “It;s not mandatory, of course. Just... I guess I’d just really like you to be there. If you want.”

There’s a tension in the air, one I can’t dispel with laughter or a shake of the head. The kitchen around me is eerily silent, waiting.

“And Karl,” I add, the words a little heavier, a little more difficult to push out, “I hope you’re doing well. I—”

There’s a hitch in my breath, and it’s now that my voice begins to crack. My resolve is melting, I can feel it.

“I miss you.”

My voice is barely more than a whisper. I take a ragged breath, and then, without another word, I abruptly hang up the phone.

The phone slips from my hand onto the counter with a clatter, and I’m suddenly back in reality. Will he even listen to the voicemail? If he does, will he even care? Will he call back?

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the uncertainty. This kitchen, these dishes—they need my focus. The judges are coming tomorrow, and I still haven’t come up with my menu. Right now, my focus needs to be on three things, and three things only: appetizer, entree, dessert.

Not Karl. Not pearlescent dresses. Just a three-course meal.