Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 191

Abby

The atmosphere shifts as our arms untangle. We’re all a little teary-eyed, but none of us say it. Instead, Chloe reaches for a tissue from the box on her coffee table, and holds it out for me.

“Well, I didn’t expect this tonight,” Leah says, sniffling.

“Yeah, me neither,” Chloe says, dabbing at her eyes too. She looks at me, her gaze still soft but punctuated by a new intensity. “But I just have one more thing to say: it can’t always be this easy, Abby.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, bracing myself.

Chloe seems to choose her words carefully as she speaks. “I need to know you’re serious about what you said. Karl gets one more chance, Abby. One. If he messes up again, and you keep giving him the time of day, then—”

She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t need to. “I get it,” I say quietly, locking eyes with her. “And thank you. Thank you for giving me another chance, too.”

Chloe nods, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes, right?”

“Speak for yourself,” Leah chimes in, picking up her wine glass from the coffee table. “Keeping both of you in check is like my full-time job at this point.”

A ripple of laughter goes through us, as if the pressure has been released. We settle into Chloe’s plush sofas, the soft cushions embracing us like an old friend. Chloe refills our wine glasses, and we toast.

“To friendship,” Leah says, lifting her glass higher.

“To all it’s messiness,” Chloe adds.

“And to understanding,” I finish.

…

As Chloe and I walk through the front door of the restaurant, I feel lighter. It’s a new day, both metaphorically and literally.

“Chloe! Welcome back!” Daisy exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air.

Chloe grins, genuinely happy. “It’s good to be back, Daisy.”

“Everything’s been dull without you,” Daisy jokes with a wink, even though it’s been anything but.

But then, I feel a sudden tension coil in the air. I glance towards the kitchen’s swinging door just as Karl steps out. His eyes lock onto Chloe’s for a moment, and I can practically feel the static between them.

Here it comes.

Then, in a move that leaves me speechless, Chloe walks up to him and extends her hand. “Karl.”

Karl hesitates, then takes her hand, shaking it firmly. They exchange a few inaudible words; Chloe whispers something into his ear. He nods, almost imperceptibly, before breaking away and heading back to the kitchen.

“What the hell was that?” I ask Chloe as she returns to my side.

She smirks. “Oh, nothing. Just a little warning.”

I roll my eyes but can’t contain my grin. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“But you love me for it,” she counters, winking.

The day flies by in a flurry of orders, invoices, and brief exchanges with staff. I almost forget about the morning’s events. But then there’s a knock on my office door, and I look up to find Karl leaning against the frame.

“Got a sec?” he asks.

“Sure. What’s up?”

He walks in and hands me a piece of paper with a name and phone number scribbled on it. “This journalist, Alex, is super interested in covering the restaurant for you.”

I take the paper from him, somewhat surprised. “Thanks, Karl. You didn’t have to do that.”

He nods, offering a half-smile. “Just doing my part. Gotta get you some good press, right?”

As he leaves the office, I dial the number. My pulse races a little; I can’t believe I’m nervous about this.

“Hello, this is Alex,” the female voice says from the other end.

“Hi, Alex, this is Abby from La Belle Vie Bistro. I heard you were interested in writing a piece on us.”

“I know,” I say, casting Daisy an apologetic look while giving Alex a tense smile at the same time. “But I didn’t realize how many tables she has, and our new chef is currently available.”

Looking somewhat disappointed, Alex jots something down on her notepad before giving me a nod. I lead her to the kitchen, where Anton is waiting, leaning on the counter.

“Ah, the journalist!” Anton says animatedly as we enter. “Welcome, welcome!”

Alex shoots Anton a cold smile, her pen poised to write. “So, Anton, you’ve made quite the impression so far.”

“I suppose you could say that,” he says, chuckling. “Like a fingerprint on a Monet painting, perhaps.”

“Can you explain?” Alex says, scribbling furiously. “You were—or are, rather—homeless, correct? How would you describe your cleanliness?”

Once again, my blood runs cold. Not this again. It can’t be.

From across the kitchen, Karl’s eyes meet mine. There’s a confused look in his eyes, which dart between me and Alex as if to say, “Who the hell is this?”

I shoot him an equally confused look. Karl scurries over to me and pulls me away by the arm, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“Abby, what happened to the journalist I told you about?”

I furrow my brow, utterly baffled at this point. “Alex, you mean? This is her.”

“No,” Karl hisses, shaking his head. “Abby, Alex is a guy.”

My eyes widen. We both slowly turn, our faces paler than ever, as we watch Anton expertly fending off a barrage of overly personal and clearly angled questions.

“So, Anton, you mean to tell me that Abby offered you a free meal, and that is how you began working here? Did you happen to tell any of your other homeless friends, too?” this ‘Alex’ impersonator asks, a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips.

“I… Um…” Anton’s face pales slightly, and he shoots Karl and I a pleading glance.

Karl and I slowly turn back to look at each other.

Where is the real Alex, and who the hell is this?