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,

melodious chatter of

ambiance that’s both lively

occasion that fills the restaurant with both families and

our famous blueberry pancakes or a

drawer, I retrieve a stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier orders, and

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

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

thoughts. My gaze flickers up to

A touch of annoyance bubbles up; I

him in the eyes, no matter how beautiful

cup in his hand. “Can I

opposite me. “Do you need

places the coffee

full coffee mug, then back at

all set, but thanks.”

a silent acknowledgment of our shared moment in my apartment last

after last night,” he says.

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

about it.

unexpectedly sweet in Karl’s gesture. His concern

others have been throwing

“Just another

nods, the seriousness in his gaze softening. “True. But if you ever need to talk or… well, even

rant, I’m here.”

from me.

moment, as if weighing his words. “Look,

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

brunch crowd

a knowing smile.

…

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

fever.”

what promises to be one of our busiest days of the week

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

he didn’t look good.

or something. He’ll probably be

overhears, his face mirroring my concern. “What’re we gonna

We’re fully booked tonight.”

a deep breath. “We adapt. That’s all

when I spot Karl in the corner, working away at

task, but he’s the only other pair

“Karl!”

jerks up, eyes scanning the kitchen before settling

need you in the kitchen,” I state, my tone allowing

as if hoping to find an escape

clarify. “You can chop,

almost warily. “Sure, but

I reply

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