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

of customers combines with

that’s both lively and

means brunch, an occasion that fills the restaurant with both

blueberry

I retrieve a stack of paperwork—invoices,

one ever romanticizes, but there’s a comfort

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

soft knock interrupts my thoughts. My gaze flickers up to find Karl’s

bubbles up; I was in no mood for

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

I see the takeout coffee cup in his hand. “Can I

I gesture towards the chair opposite me. “Do you

coffee on

then back at him, a

all set, but thanks.”

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

on you after

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

about it.

sweet in Karl’s gesture. His concern

pitying glances others have been throwing my way sinceI

Karl,” I lie, managing a faint smile. “Just another bump in the road. We all

gaze softening. “True. But if you

rant, I’m here.”

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

for a moment, as if weighing

off. “Let’s not, okay? I appreciate

brunch crowd

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

…

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

fever.”

what promises to be one of

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

his lips. “I think so, but he didn’t look good. Said he’s been throwing up

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

cooks, overhears, his face mirroring my concern.

We’re fully booked tonight.”

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

to figure out a solution. That’s when I

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

“Karl!”

up, eyes scanning the kitchen before

you in the kitchen,” I state,

if hoping to find an escape

I clarify. “You

“Sure, but are you

times,” I reply with

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