Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Chapter 0219

Abby

On the morning of the cook-off, I’m already awake before my alarm even starts buzzing.

Last night, I hardly slept at all thanks to a combination of excitement over the cook-off and my wine-

induced conversation with Karl. All night, his words swirled around my mind: “I’m really proud of you,”

he had said.

Hearing Karl say those words was so unexpected, yet so heartwarming at the same time. I can’t get

them out of my mind, like a lost puppy who’s found her home, or a shipwreck survivor lost at sea who

has found a lifeline. It’s strange how much of an impact it has had on me.

As soon as my alarm goes off, though, I pop out of bed and thrust myself into cook-off mode. Today is

not the day to be thinking about my ex-husband. Today, I need to focus on winning that cook-off,

otherwise all of my efforts will have been for nothing.

After a slightly-too-hot shower, I pull my hair back into a neat and tidy bun, then get dressed. I know I’ll

be asked to change into a uniform for the cook-off, so I opt for something simple: a t-shirt, jeans, and a

jacket.

“Okay, Abby, this is it,” I murmur to myself, checking my reflection one last time in the mirror before I

head out. “Today’s the day you show them all.”

I rush down the stairs, grabbing the go-bag that I prepared last night and heading out to the cafe down

my street for a quick pick-me-up before the day begins. The bell jingles over my head as I step inside,

and I’m greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods.

The barista, a sweet lady named Carol, is behind the counter.

“Morning, Abby! The usual?” she asks.

“Morning, Carol. Yes, please—black coffee, one sugar, and a croissant.”

The transaction is brief, and soon I’m sipping my coffee, savoring the bitter liquid as it glides down my

throat. It’s like a little cup of courage.

Then, with my coffee in one hand and a bagged croissant in the other, I start my brisk walk toward

John’s apartment. The air is crisp, the sun rising in pastel hues, and I feel optimistic about today.

The streets of the city come alive as I walk, each step invigorating me further. I can already imagine

John’s surprised face when he sees how pumped I am, and I hope he feels the same.

Speaking of John, I figure I should call him and check to make sure he’s awake and ready. Reaching

into my pocket, I grab my phone and dial his number, already scripting what I’ll say in my head.

I wait. It rings and rings but goes to voicemail. This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

“That’s strange,” I mumble, feeling a little bubble of concern rise in my chest. My fingers tap nervously

on the screen as I dial his number again, hoping that he didn’t forget to set his alarm. Still no answer.

“I hope he’s okay,” I whisper to myself, staring at the phone as if willing it to come to life. I leave a

voicemail, a twinge of impatience creeping into my tone. “John, it’s Abby. I’m on my way. We have the

competition today, remember? You better be up and ready, mister.”

After I hang up, I let out a deep sigh. “Maybe he’s taking a shower,” I mutter, shaking my head. John

wouldn’t play hooky on me, not with something like this. He’s never been that type.

My boots click against the pavement as I approach the subway entrance, jogging down the steps and

then stopping in front of the turnstile. I reach for my subway card, but just as I’m about to swipe it, my

phone buzzes.

It’s John.

I stare at the screen for a beat, my heart pounding a little faster. Good, I think to myself; he’s awake

after all. With a flick of my thumb, I accept the call and hold my phone to my ear, balancing my coffee in

the crook of my arm as I swipe my subway card.