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.

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

wooden floors. The melodious chatter of customers

that’s both lively

brunch, an occasion that fills the restaurant with both families and lone

blueberry pancakes or a hearty

a stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier orders, and the like. This

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

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

knock interrupts my thoughts. My gaze flickers up to find Karl’s familiar face peeking

door. A touch of annoyance bubbles up; I

want to look him in the eyes, no matter how beautiful

takeout coffee cup in his hand. “Can I come

towards the chair opposite me.

coffee on my

full coffee mug, then back at him, a teasing smirk

all set, but thanks.”

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

on you after last

my cheeks. I don’t want to talk about it. Hell,

about it.

something unexpectedly sweet in Karl’s

others have been

managing a faint smile. “Just another bump in the road. We

softening. “True. But if you ever need to talk or… well, even

rant, I’m here.”

from me.

a moment, as if weighing his

“Let’s not, okay? I appreciate

a brunch crowd to

curl into a knowing smile. “Alright, boss lady.

…

drawn and pale. “Abby, we’ve got a problem.

fever.”

to be one of

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

he didn’t look good.

He’ll probably be out for a few

his face mirroring my concern.

We’re fully booked tonight.”

deep breath. “We

out a solution. That’s when I

up in his task, but he’s the only other

“Karl!”

eyes scanning the kitchen before settling

state, my tone allowing no

hoping to

clarify. “You can chop,

slowly, almost warily. “Sure, but are you sure

I reply with

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