Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 342

Abby

When I return to the lavish quarters where my staff and I will be staying, a sense of organized chaos envelops me; John and Anton are already playing an intense game of foosball, Daisy and Ethan are bickering over which movie to watch, popcorn is popping in the mini kitchen, and Chloe appears to have already showered judging by the towel wrapped around her hair.

I make my way across the room and plop down on the couch beside Chloe, who’s scrolling on her phone.

“Hey,” she says without looking up. “How was your ‘private audience’?”

I can’t help but snort. “It was just a meeting about the event,” I say, then pause, chewing my lip for a moment before continuing. “Although, I think Damon might have come onto me for a moment.”

Chloe looks up from her phone to quirk an eyebrow at me. “Did he, now?” she asks.

I nod. “Yeah. He tucked my hair behind my ear and everything. Wants me to join him for a private dinner tonight.”

“Ooh.” Chloe sets her phone down and smirks at me. “Did you say yes?”

“I mean, yeah, we still need to discuss the hors d’oeuvres—”

“Abby, it’s a date,” Chloe chides.

Instantly, I feel my cheeks heat up. “That’s not true. It’s a professional dinner.”

“Mhm.” Chloe smirks and folds her arms across her chest. “I’ll bet you five dollars that there will be at least two candles involved. Likely more.”

Her words make my skin tingle, but not necessarily in a good way. The idea of going on any sort of date, even with a prince, isn’t exactly on my agenda right now. I did just have my heart broken for the millionth time.

I think it’s going to be a while before I can bring myself to enter the dating scene again.

To take some of the heat off of myself, I nod toward Chloe’s phone; she’s got Tinder open. “Who are you talking to now?” I ask.

Now, Chloe is the one who starts to blush. She quickly shuts off her phone. “Oh. No one.”

“Chloe…” I narrow my eyes at her. “Who is it?”

Chloe is silent for a few moments, her cheeks turning an impossible shade of red, before she finally lets out a huff and turns her phone back on. I watch as she navigates to her messages, then opens the most recent ones.

“It’s… Logan.”

My eyes shoot open. “Logan?” I exclaim. “As in, the judge from the cook-off, Logan?”

“Yep.”

“You’re joking,” I say, snatching the phone from her hands to open his profile. And, lo and behold, there it is: Logan, posing effortlessly in a mirror, his lips upturned ever so slightly. It’s weird to see the strict judge looking like this, wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans—especially on a dating app.

“But… he’s such a jerk,” I admit with a chuckle as I hand the phone back.

Chloe shrugs. “He’s actually really sweet,” she says. “We started talking a couple weeks ago and went on our first date over the weekend. I was going to tell you, but then you and Karl…”

The very mention of Karl’s name makes my heart clench. He should be here. I want him to be here. But I hate him right now.

I manage to hide my discomfort, and instead offer Chloe a warm smile. “I’m happy you’re happy,” I find myself saying, even though my own voice feels far away; why does it feel as though everyone else is finding love when I’m stuck here in an endless cycle of heartbreak?

Chloe sighs a bit. “Thanks,” she says, almost dreamily. “We plan on going on our second date when we get back from this trip.”

Still smiling, I pat Chloe’s hand and stand, stretching. “Keep me updated,” I say. “Just don’t come crying to me when he critiques your form in bed the same way he critiqued me at the cook-off.”

She smirks, her eyes flashing mischievously. “That ship has already sailed.”

I can’t help but laugh now; a real, genuine laugh. “Chloe, you sly dog.”

…

I smooth down the skirt of my dress and check my appearance in the full-length mirror one last time.

For my private dinner with Damon, I went with a silky blue dress that hugs my curves before flaring out at the waist. Paired with silver heels and delicate jewelry, I have to admit I look pretty damn good, all things considered.

But it’s not a date, I keep telling myself. It’s a… business dinner. How I look shouldn’t really matter all that much.

Right.

I let out a soft sigh as I turn this way and that in the mirror. Edgar should be here soon to take me to wherever this dinner will be held.

But then, just as I turn to grab my phone from the nightstand, it lights up with an incoming notification. I freeze when I see the name flash on my screen.

Karl.

An icy feeling grips my chest, and before I can think better of it, I quickly unblock his number. Sure enough, a voicemail immediately pops up from 10 minutes ago. With my hands shaking, I hit play and cross my arms tightly over my chest as if that will somehow protect me from the bad feelings that are sure to come.

“Abby…” There it is. Karl’s familiar, gravelly voice fills the room over the speaker. Just hearing him say my name makes my heart jolt in my chest.

I should hang up and delete this voicemail rather than listen to it, but for so many reasons, I don’t move to do it. Maybe it’s because I want to hurt myself even more.

Or maybe it’s because he sounds exhausted, miserable. And hearing him like this makes me soften, even though I wish it didn’t.

“I fucked up. I know that,” he continues. “What I did… going behind your back, making a huge decision about our lives without asking you… it was so, so stupid and wrong.”

He takes a ragged breath. My own lungs constrict at the audible remorse and longing in his tone. God, I wish he was here.

But I also want to hit him.

“I thought I was doing right by you, I swear it. I know how much you wanted a baby with me. How it killed you every month when…” He trails off a moment. “Jesus, I can’t even apologize properly. Just know I never, ever wanted to hurt you like I did. And I’m so damn sorry.”

My eyes burn with tears as I sink slowly to the edge of the plush bed. One hand goes instinctively to my stomach as his words sink in. Conflicting emotions war inside of me. Of course I wanted a baby, but I’ll never have one. No special serums will change that. Neither will his apologies.

“I miss you so much already,” Karl’s tortured voice continues. “Abby, I would give anything to undo how I fucked this up between us. Call me selfish, but… I hope someday you can forgive me. Even if that’s all I can get.”

The message ends a little abruptly.

I slowly lower my phone into my lap, hot tears spilling freely down my cheeks by now. My heart aches with how desperately I wish things could be different. If only Karl had talked with me first before going to such extremes with Dr. Armitage’s experimental fertility serum.

Maybe we could have talked it out, worked on it. We could have pursued other avenues to have a baby. But instead he made that choice for me, behind my back, and it cost him everything.

Cost us everything.

Suddenly, a knock at the door startles me from my spiraling thoughts. I roughly wipe the tears from my eyes and stand on trembling legs.

“One moment!” I call out shakily.

“Whenever you’re ready, miss.”

I take a deep breath and straighten my dress and hair with trembling hands. After one last glance in the mirror to ensure I look presentable and not like I was just sobbing silently, I open the door.

Edgar’s kind eyes crease with concern when he sees me. “Are you quite alright, Miss Abby?”

I nod tightly. “Yes, of course. Allergies. Shall we?”

As we walk, I try desperately to leave my thoughts of Karl and our ruined relationship back in my room where they belong. I need to focus on this week, on the event that could save my career.

Still, Karl’s heartfelt words echo in my mind, making my steps heavy with longing and grief. He should be here.

When we arrive at Damon’s private chambers, Edgar gives an encouraging smile as he opens the door for me. I paste a pleasant mask on my face and step inside.

Damon stands with his back to me beside a candlelit table in front of an intimate balcony, gazing pensively out at the crashing ocean waves below as they’re illuminated by the last tendrils of the setting sun.

My breath catches in my throat, and I freeze. In his sharp suit and with his dark hair styled just so, I’m instantly struck by his uncanny resemblance to Karl in that moment.

My traitorous heart gives a little lurch. I almost want to go to him, as if he’ll turn around and it’ll be Karl.

But then he turns, his handsome face lighting up, and the illusion shatters. Of course it’s not Karl. Why would it be Karl?

“Abby. So wonderful that you could make it.” Damon crosses over as Edgar quietly excuses himself. When the distance between us is closed, he sweeps his gaze over me and his smile seems to spread. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I manage, although my voice seems far away again. “And thank you for inviting me.”

Before I can pull away, Damon reaches out and takes my hand. He gently lifts my knuckles to his mouth, his soft lips grazing across my skin in a way that makes me shiver.

“My pleasure, Abby.”