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.

The windows filter in

of customers combines with the clink of cutlery,

both

the restaurant with

in our famous blueberry pancakes or

a stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier

job that no one ever romanticizes, but

testament to the world I’ve built

gaze flickers up to find Karl’s familiar face peeking

door. A touch of annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood for interruptions.

I don’t want to look him in the

the takeout coffee cup in his hand. “Can I

opposite me. “Do you need

a slight smile, he places the coffee on my desk. “Thought you might need

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

all set, but thanks.”

hold a twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment of our shared

after

don’t want to talk

about it.

unexpectedly sweet in Karl’s gesture. His concern feels genuine,

the pitying glances others have been throwing

lie, managing a faint smile. “Just another bump

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

rant, I’m here.”

a soft chuckle from me. “Thanks. I’ll keep

a moment, as if weighing his words. “Look,

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

got a brunch crowd

into a knowing smile. “Alright, boss lady. Let’s get

…

kitchen, his face drawn and pale. “Abby,

fever.”

out on what promises to be one

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

chewing his lips. “I think so, but he didn’t look good.

food poisoning or something. He’ll probably be out

line cooks, overhears, his

We’re fully booked tonight.”

breath. “We adapt. That’s

solution. That’s when

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

“Karl!”

the kitchen before settling on me. “Something

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

hoping to find

clarify. “You can

“Sure, but are you sure

reply

deep breath, adjusting the bandana he’s started