Abby
As Damon and I step back out into the bustling party, the sound of music overwhelms me once more. That, and the feeling of Karl somewhere close by.
But I know it’s all in my head. If Karl was here, he would have called me. And yet, I haven’t heard from him since he left me that initial voicemail. He really must be back at home, back in his pack territory.
I turn to Damon, who’s grabbing a glass of champagne off of a passing waiter’s tray. “Shall we return to dancing, then?” he asks, seemingly unperturbed by the strange interaction we just had in the art gallery.
“Actually, I really think I should get back to the kitchen,” I say, pointing over my shoulder. “My staff might need me.”
Damon chuckles. “Oh, Abby,” he says. “Enjoy the party a little while longer, won’t yo
