Chapter 0218


    “I feel a little bit like a failure,” he suddenly blurts out. “Like what my pack is saying about me… that I’m


    a bad Alpha… might be true.”


    My eyes widen. “Karl! Don’t—”


    “Abby,” he says, tilting his head back to look up at the sky, “I came here—to this city—for you. To win


    you back. No other reason. And I practically abandoned my pack. I’ve been dealing with everything


    over the phone, over email.”


    His words make my heart sink. I guess I knew that it was true, but hearing it out loud like this kind of


    hurts, I’ll admit, and not in the way I would have thought.


    I feel a little guilty—guilty for stringing him along like this, guilty for keeping him here for so long, guilty


    for allowing him to shirk his responsibilities and lose approval as Alpha, all so I could keep him on a


    leash in case I ever decided to get back together with him.


    And what really sucks is that even now, even as he’s telling me this, I’m still not sure what I want. I


    don’t know if I want to get back together, even after everything he’s done for me, and it must hurt him


    more than I could ever know.


    We fall into silence, each lost in our thoughts, the wine bottle danging from his fingers.


    My eyes keep straying to his lips, remembering the feel of them on mine, wondering if it will happen


    again. But the gravity of what he’s shared holds me back. This isn’t the time for that.


    “So,” I murmur, wanting to change the subject, at least a little bit, “we won’t see each other until the


    Alpha party?” The wordse out softer than I intend, tinged with a sense of loss I never expected to


    feel.


    “That’s the n,” he confirms. “Unless you n on forfeiting your cookingpetition and joining me


    back home?”


    I force augh, even as my heart clenches at the thought. “Tempting. But, you know, pride and all that.”


    He looks at me, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Of course. Can’t have the famous chef


    bow out, can we?”


    His words lighten the mood, but the space between us still feels loaded, every word and nceden


    with unspoken emotions. We both take another sip of wine, as if the liquid courage could make this


    easier.


    “You know,” I start, unsure of how to frame the words that are wing at the back of my throat, “even if


    I lose tomorrow, I’ll still be your date for the Alpha party. If you want me to be, that is.”


    His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world around us falls away. “You’re not going to lose,” he


    says softly. “But I’m d to hear you say that.”


    Something flickers between us then, an understanding, a connection. It’s as if, for the first time in a


    long time, we’re seeing each other for what we really are: two lost souls searching for our other half,


    passing by each other in a sea of blotted out stars and wine.


    “We should head back,” he suddenly suggests, pulling me back into reality. “People will start thinking


    we ran off together.”


    I nod, reluctant to break the spell of the moment. “You’re right.”


    We start to move, gathering up the half-empty wine bottle, our movements a little clumsier, a little


    slower, as if we’re both hesitant to let this night end. Finally, we step out of the alley, heading back


    toward the building.


    But just as I reach for the door, Karl stops me, his hand catching mine in a firm grip.


    “Abby…” he says, his voice tinged with a seriousness that makes me look up.


    “Yeah?” I murmur.


    He pauses, licking his lips in that oh-so-Karl way that makes me want to close the distance between us.


    “I want you to know, I’m really proud of you.”


    My heart skips a beat at the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you, Karl,” I manage. “That means a lot.”


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    He squeezes my hand, holding my gaze for a moment longer. Then, he lets go. “Good luck tomorrow.”