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.

special here. The windows filter in a golden hue,

chatter of customers combines with the clink of cutlery,

that’s both lively and

brunch, an occasion that fills the restaurant with both families

our famous blueberry pancakes or a hearty

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

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

I check, it’s all a testament to the world

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

ajar door. A touch of annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood for interruptions. And

want to look him in the eyes, no matter how

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

gesture towards the chair opposite me.

the coffee on my desk. “Thought

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

all set, but thanks.”

nkle, a silent acknowledgment

on you after last night,” he

to talk about it. Hell, I don’t even

about it.

there’s something unexpectedly sweet in Karl’s gesture. His concern

others have been throwing

good, Karl,” I lie, managing a faint smile. “Just another

gaze softening. “True. But if

rant, I’m here.”

chuckle from me. “Thanks. I’ll keep that

moment, as if weighing his words. “Look,

cutting him off. “Let’s not, okay? I

brunch crowd

curl into a knowing smile.

…

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

fever.”

on what promises to be one of our busiest

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

think so, but he didn’t

or something. He’ll probably be out

overhears, his face

We’re fully booked tonight.”

“We adapt. That’s all

to figure out a solution. That’s when I spot Karl

he’s the only other pair of hands I

“Karl!”

up, eyes scanning the

you in the kitchen,” I state, my tone allowing

hoping

“You can chop,

nods slowly, almost warily. “Sure, but

reply

deep breath, adjusting the bandana he’s started wearing