Chasing His Kickass Luna Back
Chapter 0322

It's no different than the night that Karl threw the party at our old home, and seeing someone treat the food—which my team and I so painstakingly prepared—like it's not even worth tasting is hurtful. The contrast between her and Ethan is striking, and I can’t help but wonder about her true intentions.

“Well, I agree with Ethan,” Karl chimes in, sensing my upset over Gianna. He holds up a forkful of glistening pasta and smiles. “This is delicious. I may need to have a second helping later.” "Speaking of second helpings,” Ethan says, pushing his now-empty plate away, “I can see that the spinach puffs are disappearing quickly over there. I'll be right back—"

“Allow me,” I say suddenly, standing abruptly. “I'll get it for you.”

Ethan shoots me a concerned look. “Abby, you don't—"

“Really,” I retort with a smile. “You should relax. Besides, I'm the caterer.”

Before Ethan has the chance to refuse, I push my chair back and walk away. Really, I just need a moment away from Gianna so I can breathe, but I won't let them know that. As I approach the table, however, I can hear the sound of footsteps behind me. I know it's Karl.

"Are you okay, Abby?” Karl's voice is hushed as he brushes his fingers gently against mine, reaching for a plate of calamari on the table.

I offer him a reassuring smile. “I'm fine, Karl,” I say. “Just needed to take a moment to breathe.” “Trying to get away from Gianna?” he asks.

I nod, knowing that there's no point in sugarcoating it. We both glance over our shoulders to see that Gianna has shoved her untouched plate away. Ethan is reaching for it.

“Man, he sure is ravenous,” Karl says with a chuckle.

I can't help but laugh, too. “Hey, at least one of them is enjoying the food,” I say.

Karl nods and sighs, a mixture of frustration and gratitude evident in his eyes. “I'm really sorry she's here, Abby. I just wish we could spend one night free of drama, you know?”

Truthfully, I do know. And I want that, too; more than anything right now.

But before I can respond, a woman with two adorable children—a boy and a girl—approaches us. The little ones are beaming with innocence and joy, their mouths and tiny hands flecked with chocolate.

“Excuse me,” the mother says, flashing me a smile. “You're Abby, correct? The caterer?”

I nod and set down the plate of spinach puffs I'm holding. “I am.”

The mother grins and looks down at her two kids. “Go ahead,” she says to them. "Tell Miss Abby what you told me.”

With bashful looks on their faces, the little kids stammer out their gratitude.

“Um, the chocolate cake is super tasty,” the little boy says, licking his lips. “Thank you for making it for us.”

“Yeah, thank you," the little girl chimes in. “It's detectable!”

Beside me, Karl stifles a laugh. The mother giggles, shaking her head. “She means delectable,” she corrects. “It's her new favorite word.”

The interaction makes me grin. I crouch down in front of the kids, using a napkin to wipe a bit of chocolate from their lips. “I'm so glad you're enjoying the cake,” I say with a smile. “I made it just for kids like you.”

With another thank-you and a flurry of chocolate and giggles, the two children walk away with their mother. I watch them go, unable to wipe the smile off of my face, like a piece of chocolate that won't go away.

But when I meet Karl's gaze, there's a strange, soft look in his eyes that makes my cheeks flush red. “What?” I ask

He simply shakes his head. “Oh, nothing,” he says, his voice low and thick. “Nothing at all.”

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