Chasing His Kickass Luna Back
Chapter 0330

Their mother chuckles. “Thank you again,” she says to me.

With a nod and a final smile, I leave them to enjoy the rest of the party and head back to the kitchen. But as I walk away, I can't deny the tears that have gathered in my eyes.

I almost forgot how much I love children, and it fills me with a sense of melancholy...

Because I know that I may never be able to have children of my own.

The night has wound down, and the kitchen is finally closed. It's been a whirlwind of a night, filled with so many different moments, both bittersweet and exciting.

My staff and I have convened in the kitchen for one last drink to power us through the end-of-night cleaning. I'm sitting on the counter, a welcome reprieve from standing all night.

After pouring the champagne, John holds up his glass with a smile on his tired face.

“To Abby,” he says.

I blush, raising my own glass. “No. To all of us.”

The others cheer in agreement, and I feel a warmth spread through me. It's moments like these that remind me of the wonderful people I have in my life.

“Really, I couldn't have done any of this without all of you,” I say, looking at all of my staff's faces. “I'm so lucky to have you.”

We all clink our glasses together and drink. As we take some time to chat about the night and rest our feet, however, I keep looking at the door. It's as if my heart is secretly hoping that Karl might just walk through.

But he doesn't.

I start to wonder if he's already left without saying goodbye, and in that moment, as though acting on impulse, I find myself standing.

“I'll be right back,” I say, setting my glass down and walking out the door.

In the dining area, Mr. Thompson's staff is already breaking down the party decorations. The streamers and balloons have been taken down, the lights are being packed away, and the floor is being swept clean of confetti and glitter. It's actually kind of starting to look like my restaurant again.

Mr. Thompson looks up from the notes he’s taking on a clipboard as I approach. “Ah, Abby,” he says, tucking the clipboard under his arm. “Everything okay?”

I nod, my eyes scanning the room. All of the guests are gone—including Karl. “I'm fi—"

"You're looking for Karl,” he says, dropping his voice to an almost-whisper.

I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. “I—"

He chuckles and pats my shoulder. “Look, Abby, I saw the chemistry between you two earlier. He just left a few minutes ago. Perhaps you could still catch him.”

My heart sinks at the realization that I missed him, but at the same time, Mr. Thompson's words fill me with a sense of determination.

"Go," he says, giving me a little push. “If you run, I think you could catch him.”

Embarrassment washes over me once more, but I don't care. I mumble a quick thank you and rush out the door without another word.

The cool night air hits me as I step onto the street. I stand there for a moment, my eyes scanning the parked cars, before I begin to run.

The wind hits my face, cooling my hot skin. My hair falls free of its bun, and I'm running, running as fast as I can as I search for him.

And then, up ahead, I see a lone figure walking down the sidewalk, illuminated in amber by the streetlights. His hands are in his pockets, his stride slow and easy. I recognize him immediately, and stop in my tracks.

“Karl!”

He slowly turns, and as our eyes meet across the distance, time seems to stop.

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