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 golden

melodious chatter of customers

ambiance that’s both

the restaurant with both families and

blueberry

paperwork—invoices, supplier orders, and the like.

part of the job that no one ever romanticizes, but there’s a

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

gaze flickers up

I was in no mood for

I don’t want to look him in the

the takeout coffee cup in his hand. “Can I

towards the chair opposite me. “Do you need

places the coffee on my desk. “Thought you might need

full coffee mug, then back at him, a teasing smirk playing on my

all set, but thanks.”

nkle, a silent acknowledgment of our shared moment

to check on you after

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

about it.

in Karl’s gesture. His concern feels genuine, a

the pitying glances others have been throwing my way sinceI

lie, managing a faint smile. “Just another bump in the

But if

rant, I’m here.”

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

for a moment, as if weighing his

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

brunch crowd to

into a knowing smile.

…

enters the kitchen, his face drawn and pale. “Abby,

fever.”

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

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

think so, but he didn’t look

be out for

his face mirroring my concern.

We’re fully booked tonight.”

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

a solution. That’s when I

he’s the only other

“Karl!”

eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on me.

kitchen,” I state, my tone allowing no room

as if hoping to find an escape

I clarify. “You

slowly, almost warily. “Sure, but are you

I reply with a

the bandana he’s started wearing when doing his