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.

are special here. The windows filter in a golden hue, casting warm

of customers

both lively and

fills the restaurant

blueberry pancakes or a

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

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

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

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

of annoyance bubbles up; I was in

want to look him in the eyes, no

cup in his hand. “Can

towards the chair opposite me. “Do you

smile, he places the coffee on my desk. “Thought

at him, a teasing

all set, but thanks.”

a twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment

wanted to check on you after last

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

about it.

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

to the pitying glances others have

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

softening. “True. But if you ever need

rant, I’m here.”

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

hesitates for a moment, as if weighing his words. “Look, about

raise a hand, cutting him off. “Let’s not, okay? I appreciate

a brunch crowd to

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

…

and pale. “Abby, we’ve got

fever.”

out on what promises to be one of our busiest days of the

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

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

probably be out for a few days

of my other line cooks, overhears, his face mirroring my

We’re fully booked tonight.”

“We adapt.

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

the only other

“Karl!”

up, eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on me. “Something

state, my tone allowing no room for

hoping to find an

clarify. “You can

“Sure,

I reply

the bandana he’s