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.

mornings are special here. The windows filter in a golden

floors. The melodious chatter of

both

the restaurant with both families and

our famous blueberry pancakes or a

of paperwork—invoices,

ever romanticizes, but there’s a comfort in the routine

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

interrupts my thoughts. My gaze flickers up to find Karl’s

annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood for

in the eyes, no matter how beautiful and chocolatey they

in his hand. “Can I come

opposite me. “Do you need something,

slight smile, he places the coffee on my desk.

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

all set, but thanks.”

nkle, a silent acknowledgment of our shared moment in my apartment last

to check on you after

of embarrassment floods my cheeks. I don’t want to talk

about it.

in Karl’s gesture.

others have been throwing

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

nods, the seriousness in his gaze softening. “True. But if

rant, I’m here.”

chuckle from me. “Thanks. I’ll keep

as if weighing his words. “Look, about

not, okay? I appreciate the concern, but I’d rather

a brunch

smile. “Alright, boss lady.

…

enters the kitchen, his face drawn and pale. “Abby, we’ve got a problem. John’s down

fever.”

John being out on what promises to be one of our busiest days of the

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

think so, but he didn’t look good. Said he’s

probably be out for a few days

of my other line cooks, overhears, his face

We’re fully booked tonight.”

take a deep breath. “We adapt. That’s all

when

but he’s the only other pair

“Karl!”

jerks up, eyes scanning the

need you in the kitchen,” I state, my tone allowing no room for

hoping to

“You can chop,

warily. “Sure, but

times,” I reply with

takes a deep breath, adjusting the bandana he’s started wearing when