Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 78: A Little Vacation

Abby

My eyes snap open to discover that someone, in the span of what feels like five minutes, my office has

grown dark. There’s a hand on my shoulder, and an all-too-familiar face—with a smirk on it, of course—

staring down at me.

“Sleepy?” Karl asks, his lips twitching into a grin.

I shake my head and sit up, trying to regain a sense of reality. The glare of the desk lamp sca tters

across stacks of invoices and order forms, casting a dim amber glow over everything.

“No,” I lie, looking away as Karl crosses the room back to the doorway. “I was just putting my head

down for a few minutes.”

A quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s almost eight o’clock, and considering the fact that it’s a

Wednesday, the restaurant is already mostly quiet. Through my half-open office door, I can just barely

make out the faint sound of sc at tered voices and silverware on plates from the few customers who are

still hanging around, post-dinner rush.

Karl laughs and leans against the doorframe. “Sure. And what looks like drool on your cheek must just

be condensation or something, right?”

Drool? I swipe my cheek with the back of my hand and sure enough, it comes away wet. Great.

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“Okay, you go me,” I mutter, smoothing down my messy hair. “This morning was hectic, and I didn’t

sleep too well last night…”

Karl shrugs. “Don’t sweat it,” he assures me. “In fact, you’ll be happy to know that after the health

inspector left, everything else went smoothly. No more food critics, no sick servers, no arguing

employees.”

I force a half-smile. So word really does travel fast; or rather, Karl is more attuned to the drama than I

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thought. I never mentioned the sick servers and arguing employees to anyone, but someone must have

noticed.

“That’s… good,” I sigh, rubbing my eyes. “Did you need something?”

Karl pushes off the doorframe and saunters in again, perching on the edge of my cluttered desk. “Well,

I had a question for you about tomorrow’s delivery schedule, but it’s really not that important,” he says.

“You look like you could use some rest instead.”

I shake my head, pushing myself up to my feet in an attempt to make myself look more competent as a

restaurant owner than I really feel right now. “I’m perfectly fine,” I lie, hoping that he won’t notice the

fact that I’m wavering slightly where I’m standing. “What’s your question?”

For a few moments, Karl gazes at me without answering. There’s something gentle in his eyes,

something that I haven’t seen in a very long time. And something about it makes my knees just the

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tiniest bit weak. I cross the room in a feeble attempt to hide the blush that’s creeping into my cheeks,

and stop by the window, peering out into the dimly lit city street. It’s pouring rain.

“Look, it’s getting late and the kitchen will close soon anyway,” Karl says after a moment, snapping me

back to reality. “You should go home, Abby.”

I shrug. “I’ll be fine. I’ll at least wait until—”

“Until it stops raining?” he asks. I nod, and Karl sighs. “It’s supposed to rain all night. Just let me drive

you home, okay?”

I stare out the window for another few moments at the rain, listening as it patters against the glass. A

quick glance at my coat h ook reveals that my umbrella is nowhere to be found, and I yawn, realizing

that my nap on my desk didn’t really do much to cure my exhaustion.

“Alright, fine,” I finally say, turning back to face Karl. He’s got an almost triumphant look on his face, but

hides it quickly. “Let’s go.”

…

The transition from the dim, cramped space of my office to Karl’s sleek, black sedan is an unexpected

comfort. The car smells like fresh leather and a hint of pine air freshener. The city lights, made blurry by

the rain, bounce off of the windshield as we drive. I’ve always loved the city in the rain, especially the

way the neon signs look on a stormy night; it’s like something out of a movie.

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We weave through the streets, the bright signs of late-night diners and convenience stores flashing by

in a blur. For a moment, the weight of my job—the critics, the health inspectors, the constantly ringing

phone—lifts, and I find myself lost in the rhythmic hum of the car’s engine.

Karl finally breaks the silence. “You looked like you were having one hell of a dream back there. Was it

about a beach, a tropical drink, and a server shortage all at once?”

I chuckle. “More like a health inspection nightmare. I can’t seem to escape the restaurant, even in my

sleep.”

He glances over at me with a smirk. “Well, dreams are just unpaid labor then, aren’t they? Surely you

could get compensation somehow.”

“Exactly. My subconscious is working overtime,” I reply, my words tinged with a fatigue I can’t hide.

We reach the front of my apartment complex—a red brick building with ivy crawling up the sides and a

tall set of steps leading to the front door. It’s surrounded by other buildings that look just like it. I

remember when I first moved here, I almost walked into someone else’s apartment. That was

embarrassing.

Karl pulls up to the curb and turns off the engine, then looks at me, his eyes searching my face. “Abby,

are you sure you don’t need a vacation? My offer still stands. Remember the pool and the hot tub?”

I look away. Of course I remember the pool and the hot tub, and all of the luxuries of our old home. But

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it doesn’t mean that I think I should go back.

“And,” he leans in a little, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone, “I could take you to some of those

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places you used to love. Remember the little cafe with the perfect cappuccinos? Or that park where we

used to hang out?”

I feel a nostalgic tug at my heart. Karl’s words paint a vivid picture, transporting me momentarily back

to those carefree days when life felt easier, lighter. But then the logical side of my brain kicks back in,

reminding me of the bad times: of fights, slammed doors, secrets.

“Thanks for the offer,” I say, still looking out the window. “But I can’t. You know that.”

“Why not?” He asks.

“Because…” I shrug, not wanting to delve into it all right now, and decide to tell a half-truth. “The

restaurant needs me.”

Karl sighs. “The restaurant won’t burn to the ground if you take two days to yourself, you know.”

I sigh, feeling the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile. “That’s easy for you to say, Karl. You’re not

the one dealing with the chaos day in and day out.”

Karl studies me for a moment, then leans back, nodding. “I get it. The restaurant is your baby, and it’s

hard to let go. But even parents need a break sometimes, you know?”

“I know,” I concede, “but not now.” I open my mouth to say more, to explain to him that I can’t bring

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myself to walk those halls again where our marriage fell apart, but I choose not to. Not tonight, at least.

Karl’s eyes hold a hint of disappointment, but he covers it quickly with a warm smile, taking me by

surprise yet again. “Alright, Abby. No harm in asking, I suppose.”

We sit there for a moment, the quiet stretching between us, filled only by the soft hum of the car’s idling

engine and the rain gently pitter-pattering against the windows.

“Thanks for the ride, Karl,” I finally say, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Karl shoots me another melancholic look, but says nothing more. Instead, he nods slowly, his eyes

meeting mine. “Goodnight, Abby.”

“Goodnight, Karl.”

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