Abby
The clock on the wall reads 11:30 PM, its ticking slicing through the quietness of my office like a knife.
I’m engrossed in the sea of paperwork in front of me when there’s a knock on the door—soft but persistent. My eyes dart up, half-expecting to see Chloe or maybe Leah, but it’s Karl leaning against the doorframe.
“Hey,” he says, his eyes not quite meeting mine as he studies the pile of papers on my desk. “Am I interrupting?”
His sudden appearance sets off a chorus of conflicting emotions inside me. Part of me wants to put up the barriers again, but another part is surprised and, dare I admit, pleased to see him. It’s late, and I thought that I was the only one left in the restaurant. As it turns out, I was wrong.
“No, not really,” I reply, setting aside my pen
