Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 211

Abby

The knock on the door interrupts my pity party, and for a split second, I debate whether or not to even answer it.

But before I can make up my mind, the door creaks open and I catch the sight in the vanity mirror—Karl, his blue surgical mask lowered, his brown eyes shining and a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Karl?” My voice trembles. Seeing him makes my guard lower, and I can feel my shoulders relax. “I saw you in the audience, and I—”

He steps further into the room, letting the door close softly behind him. “I bought a ticket secretly. I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to surprise you,” he says, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

I feel a smile spreading across my lips. “Thank you. But…” I pause, taking in his appearance. “What’s with the surgical mask?”

Karl chuckles and tugs on the blue mask. “This? Don’t take it the wrong way, but I didn’t want anyone recognizing me. I’m supposed to be an Alpha, you know? Not hanging out in my ex-wife’s city and helping with her restaurant.”

I nod, recalling one of our first discussions when he came to help me. Even most of the staff at the restaurant doesn’t know about our history.

“You were fantastic out there, Abby,” he says, taking another step closer. “And that last thing you said about the staff? It was really touching.”

Warmth spreads through me at his words, the tenderness in his voice acting like a balm on my raw emotions. “Thank you. I didn’t expect you to be in the audience. It means a lot that you’re here, Karl.”

He starts to walk over, probably to hand me the bouquet, but then he notices. The red-rimmed eyes, the streaked makeup—undeniable signs of tears.

Instantly, the flowers drop to the floor, abandoned, and he’s in front of me in two strides. His hands grip me by both arms, his eyes searching my face.

I let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know. Is it really? Or don’t you think that he might be onto something.

His eyes widen in shock. He reaches out, his hand cupping my face gently, the touch light but infinitely reassuring. I find myself leaning my cheek into his palm, as though the barriers between us are nonexistent now.

“Abby, listen,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking my cheek. “You are one of the most talented, passionate chefs I know. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

His words should be comforting, and they are, but they also unleash a flood of feelings I’ve been holding back.

“I’ve just… I’ve worked so hard, you know?” I murmur. “But it’s like you can never escape the judgment. If it’s not because you’re a woman, then it’s because your restaurant is too inclusive, or your staff isn’t Michelin-star quality, or some other ridiculous thing. It’s so fucking exhausting.”

Karl’s other arm wraps around me, pulling me close, and it’s like a dam bursts forth inside of me. I melt into him, allowing myself this moment of weakness, because I know he understands; he understands the exhaustion, the constant uphill battle, the weight of unfair judgments.