Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 41: Sparks Fly
Abby

Pushing the restaurant’s door open, I’m immediately enveloped by the scent of fresh bread and

brewing coffee.

The day beckons, promising a hustle that I’m both dreading and anticipating. Each wooden table is

adorned with a fresh bunch of flowers, the gentle hum of the morning preparations playing softly in the

background.

“Morning, Abby!” Jake, my ever-efficient waiter, calls out, balancing a tray of fresh pastries on his palm.

His smile reaches his eyes, but there’s an underlying tension behind his gaze. Word travels fast, and

I’m sure the staff knows about the disaster that was last night.

From behind the bar, Chloe shoots me a sheepish grin. I narrow my eyes at her, knowing that she likely

blabbed to someone, but I can’t stay mad at her.

“Hey, Jake,” I reply, forcing brightness into my voice, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the

emotional hangover.

Daisy joins Jake, her apron already smudged with the morning’s work. “Need a coffee?” she asks, a

knowing glint in her eyes.

“Wouldn’t say no to that,” I respond with a weary chuckle.

She swiftly moves to the espresso machine, her hands practiced and sure, and within moments I’m

cradling a warm cup of comfort. The aroma alone gives me the pick-me-up I desperately need.

“Thanks, Daisy. Oh, and get a new apron from the back before customers start coming, alright?”

“Sure thing, boss!”

The warmth of my office is a welcome reprieve from the bustling chaos of the restaurant. I step inside,

immediately relishing the sense of solitude it offers.

My small haven is dimly lit, decorated with tasteful artwork and an impressive array of certificates that

vouch for my culinary skills. Yet, right now, they feel like mere props to a play that’s become all too real.

Sliding the door shut, I exhale a long, deep sigh. My feet carry me to the plush leather chair behind my

oak desk. As I sink into it, every muscle in my body seems to let go of the tension it’s been holding

onto. My temples throb, a painful reminder of the tears and restless tossing of the previous night.

Yet, there’s a silver lining to my gloomy clouds. My restaurant. My sanctuary.

are special here. The windows filter in a golden hue, casting warm

chatter of customers combines

both lively and

means brunch, an occasion that fills the restaurant

famous blueberry pancakes

a stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier orders,

job that no one ever romanticizes, but there’s a comfort in the routine

every number I check, it’s all a testament to the world I’ve

flickers up to find

annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood for interruptions. And after

to look him in the eyes, no matter how

the takeout coffee cup in his hand. “Can

I gesture towards the chair opposite me.

he places the coffee on my desk.

my almost full coffee mug, then back at him, a teasing

all set, but thanks.”

twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment of

wanted to check on you after

floods my cheeks. I don’t want to talk about

about it.

in Karl’s gesture.

to the pitying glances others have

Karl,” I lie, managing a faint smile. “Just

softening. “True. But if you ever

rant, I’m here.”

a soft chuckle from me. “Thanks.

as if weighing

hand, cutting him off. “Let’s not, okay? I appreciate the concern, but

brunch

knowing smile. “Alright, boss lady. Let’s

…

kitchen, his face drawn and pale. “Abby,

fever.”

on what promises to be one of our

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

his lips. “I think so, but he didn’t

something. He’ll probably be out for a few days at

his face mirroring my

We’re fully booked tonight.”

“We adapt. That’s all we

figure out a solution. That’s when I spot

he’s the only other pair of hands I

“Karl!”

the kitchen before settling

you in the kitchen,” I state, my tone

looks around, as if hoping to find

“You can

slowly, almost warily. “Sure, but

reply

deep breath, adjusting the bandana he’s started wearing when doing his tasks. He’s