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.

in a

the wooden floors. The melodious chatter of

both lively and

occasion that fills the restaurant with both families and

in our famous blueberry pancakes

a drawer, I retrieve a stack of paperwork—invoices,

ever romanticizes,

testament to the world I’ve built brick by brick, dish by

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

I was in no mood for

look him in the eyes, no matter how beautiful and chocolatey they

then I see the takeout coffee cup in his hand. “Can I come in?”

I gesture towards the chair opposite me. “Do you

places the coffee

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

all set, but thanks.”

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

check on you after last night,” he says.

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

about it.

sweet in Karl’s

glances others have been

smile. “Just another

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

rant, I’m here.”

from me. “Thanks. I’ll keep that

moment, as if

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

brunch crowd to

lips curl into a knowing smile.

…

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

fever.”

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

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

so, but he didn’t

poisoning or something. He’ll probably be out for a

other line cooks, overhears, his

We’re fully booked tonight.”

breath. “We adapt. That’s all we can

figure out a solution. That’s when I spot

he’s the only other

“Karl!”

up, eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on me.

need you in the kitchen,” I state, my

looks around, as if hoping to find

I clarify. “You

“Sure, but are you

reply

bandana he’s started