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

wooden floors. The melodious chatter of customers combines with the clink of cutlery,

both lively and

the restaurant

our famous blueberry pancakes or

retrieve a stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier orders, and the like. This is

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

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

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

I was in no mood for interruptions. And

I don’t want to look him in the eyes, no matter how beautiful and chocolatey they

the takeout coffee cup in his hand. “Can I

chair opposite me. “Do you

smile, he places the coffee on my desk.

back at him, a teasing smirk playing on

all set, but thanks.”

twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment

you after last night,”

floods my cheeks. I don’t want to

about it.

in Karl’s

pitying glances others have been throwing my way sinceI

managing a faint smile. “Just another bump in

in his gaze softening. “True. But if you ever need to talk

rant, I’m here.”

me. “Thanks. I’ll keep that

hesitates for a moment, as if

him off. “Let’s not, okay? I

a brunch crowd

a knowing smile. “Alright, boss

…

drawn and pale. “Abby,

fever.”

to be one

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

so, but he didn’t look good. Said

food poisoning or something. He’ll probably be

other line cooks, overhears, his

We’re fully booked tonight.”

a deep breath. “We

when I spot Karl in

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

“Karl!”

head jerks up, eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on

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

around, as if hoping to find

“You can chop,

nods slowly, almost warily. “Sure, but are

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bandana he’s started wearing when doing