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 hue, casting warm

melodious chatter of customers combines with the clink of

ambiance that’s both

means brunch, an occasion that fills the restaurant with both families and

blueberry pancakes

stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier

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

a testament to the world I’ve built

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

annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood for

to look him in the eyes,

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

I gesture towards the chair opposite me. “Do you need something,

smile, he places the coffee

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

all set, but thanks.”

a twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment of our

to check on you after last night,” he says. “I’m…

cheeks. I don’t want to talk about it. Hell, I don’t even want to

about it.

unexpectedly sweet in Karl’s gesture. His concern feels genuine,

glances others have been

lie, managing a faint smile. “Just another bump in the road. We all have those,

gaze softening. “True. But if you ever need to talk or…

rant, I’m here.”

elicits a soft chuckle from me.

hesitates for a moment, as if weighing his

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

got a brunch crowd

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

…

his face drawn and pale. “Abby, we’ve

fever.”

promises to be one of our busiest

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

chewing his lips. “I think so, but he

or something. He’ll probably be out for

overhears, his face mirroring

We’re fully booked tonight.”

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

That’s when I spot Karl in the corner, working

He’s caught up in his task, but he’s the only other pair of hands I can

“Karl!”

the kitchen before settling on me.

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

as if hoping to find an escape route.

I clarify. “You

almost warily. “Sure, but are you sure

times,” I reply

adjusting the bandana he’s started wearing when doing