Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

#Chapter 56: Pity Party

The restaurant buzzes with an energy that I haven’t felt in a long while. Streamers hang from the

ceiling, twinkling fairy lights wrap around the bar, and the laughter of friends and colleagues fills the air.

Tonight is more than just another party; it’s a celebration of someone I hold dear, and I can’t help but

get swept up in the excitement.

“So,” Ethan says as we complete the finishing touches on some balloons. Leah is on her way with

Chloe, who thinks that it’s just going to be the three of us girls going out for drinks. She has no idea.

“You hear anything yet about the cook-off?”

Instinctively, I lower my voice and shoot Ethan a wary look. Karl is floating around here somewhere,

and I haven’t mentioned the cook-off to him yet. NôvelDrama.Org content rights.

I’m not entirely sure why, other than the fact that I did promise that I would go to the Alpha party with

him, and potentially catering it would get in the way of that.

“Not yet,” I answer as I tie an intricate knot on one of the bundles of balloons. “Still waiting to get the

details.”

“Well, either way, I’m excited for you,” Ethan says gently. His leg seems to be hurting him, and he takes

a moment to lean on the bar. “If you need any help, let me know.”

I can’t help but smile. Ethan has always been one of my most faithful employees, and I’m glad to have

made him the new restaurant manager. He deserves it.

“Thanks, Ethan.”

Just then, a voice cuts through the room.

“Everyone get ready! Chloe is coming!”

In an instant, the room falls into a hush. People dart behind tables, the lights go off, and Ethan and I

duck down behind the bar with smirks on our faces. I can hear the sound of the door opening, followed

by Chloe’s confused voice.

“What the hell? Why is it so dark in here?”

The lights flick on. Everyone jumps out from their hiding places, yelling “Surprise!” at the top of our

lungs. Chloe gasps and claps her hand over her mouth.

“You guys!” she shrieks, spotting me and closing the distance between us to throw her arms around my

neck. “This is so nice!”

“It’s the least we could do,” I say into her ear, hugging her tight. “Happy birthday, Chlo.”

…

Chloe, radiant in a simple yet elegant dress, floats around, chatting with everyone. Her joy is palpable,

and seeing her this happy makes every ounce of effort worth it.

I survey the room from behind the bar, a contented smile tugging at my lips. But amid the thrum of

celebration, my eyes catch a familiar figure.

Karl leans against the far wall, nursing his drink. Our eyes lock for a fleeting moment before he looks

away, and a mixture of emotions churns within me.

Soon enough, the smell of delicious food wafts through the air as waiters begin to bring out platters

filled with mouthwatering dishes: lobster tails, crab cakes, rice pilaf and asparagus.

As the food lands on the table, Chloe’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. She claps her

hands together and squeals with delight.

“Oh my God, Abby, you made my favorite!”

“The chef aims to please,” I reply, sharing a knowing smile with her.

Chloe stands up, raising her glass. “I just want to say, I have the best friends in the entire world. Abby,

Leah,” she scans the room, locking eyes with each of us, “you two are the best anyone could ask for.

To friendship and fabulous food!”

Glasses clink, and for a moment, all is right with the world.

“We should capture this,” Chloe declares, her eyes scanning the room. “I want a picture with everyone!”

I grab my phone and start fiddling with it, trying to find the perfect spot where we can all fit in the frame.

I prop it against a glass, angling it just so.

But after a few failed attempts—it slips, tips over, or just gives a skewed angle—I sigh in frustration.

“That’s not going to work, is it?” Chloe notes, sensing my minor struggle.

Before I can answer, her eyes land on Karl, who’s leaning against the wall, sipping his drink. “Hey,

Karl.”

“What’s up?” he says, taking another sip of his drink.

“Take the picture for us.”

Chloe’s words are somewhat demanding, as though daring him not to take the photo, or subtly implying

that she doesn’t want him in her photo. A weird tension fills the air for a split second, like a hush falling

over a captivated audience.

Maybe it's just me, but I sense a little animosity, a subtle standoff between Chloe and Karl that makes

me uneasy.

“Actually, I think everyone should be in the picture,” I start to say, not wanting Karl to feel left out. After

all, he’s a part of the team, part of this night. And he’s helped me immensely with the preparations.

Karl meets my eyes, and it’s as if he reads my thoughts. His face softens, and he puts down his drink.

“No worries. I’d be happy to take the picture.”

The tension lifts, replaced by a collective sense of relief that ripples through the room.

“Good. Everyone, gather around!” Chloe announces, her excitement returning in full force.

We all huddle together, a motley crew of chefs, servers, friends, and family, each one of us with a

unique story but connected through the thread of this very moment.

Karl grabs the phone, getting into position. “Ready? One, two, three.”

The flash goes off, capturing smiles, joy, and a room full of people who matter. He takes a couple more

shots for good measure before handing the phone back to me.

“Thanks, Karl,” I say softly, flipping through the pictures. They’re perfect, capturing the essence of the

evening in frozen snippets of time.

But there’s something missing, and for a moment, I think to myself that the picture feels terribly empty

without him by my side, just like old days. I push the thought away, though, and offer Karl a stiff smile.

“No problem,” he replies, his tone casual but carrying a depth I can’t quite place.

As he moves back to his original spot, my heart twinges with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. I’m

thankful for his willingness to step in and help, to be a part of this moment in his own way.

But at the same time, I can’t shake the feeling that he should have been in those pictures too. He

should be part of this memory we’ve created.

The meal passes in a whirlwind of laughter and shared stories, each dish a hit. I feel a sense of pride

watching my friends and staff relish the food.

All the while, though, I can’t help but steal glances at Karl, who seems equally engrossed in his meal,

but doesn’t seem to be talking very much. It’s unlike him.

Eventually, the moment I’ve been waiting for arrives.

I nod at Ethan, who dims the lights, creating an ambiance that adds a touch of magic to the room.

Two servers emerge from the kitchen, carefully carrying the cake—red velvet covered in cream cheese

frosting, adorned with elegant designs and Chloe’s name scrawled in delicate lettering.

As they place it on the table, the room erupts in applause and Chloe’s eyes go wide with awe. We all

sing happy birthday, and then slices are doled out.

The cake is as perfect as I hoped; moist and flavorful on the inside, not too sweet, and the cream

cheese frosting gives a slight sweet yet also savory kick. I mixed in a hint of salt for that perfect flavor,

and it worked wonders.

“Abby, this is stunning! How did you even manage to do this without me knowing?” She can’t take her

eyes off the cake as we begin to dig in.

Blushing, I give her a hug. “A chef never reveals her secrets.”

“But seriously,” she presses, “this must’ve taken you hours.”

I hesitate for a moment, then decide to let her in on part of the secret. “I had a little help.”

My eyes drift to Karl, who looks back at me, a knowing smile playing on his lips. For a moment, the

crowded room fades away, and it’s just us, sharing a quiet acknowledgment of our little adventure.

Chloe follows my gaze and leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “Abby, be careful. You know as

well as I do how dangerous it could be if you two get too close. You should really be staying away from

him.”

A lump forms in my throat. Chloe’s concern is genuine, but it also brings up feelings and questions I’m

not yet ready to face. “I know,” is all I manage to say.

Part of me wants to confess about the intimate moment Karl and I shared, but another part urges

caution. With a heavy sigh, I decide against it.

Not now, not on Chloe's birthday.

As the cake is savored with gusto, and as everyone dives into a new round of animated conversations,

I steal another glance toward the spot where Karl was standing.

But he’s gone.