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.

filter in a golden hue, casting warm patches of

wooden floors. The melodious chatter of customers combines with the

that’s both lively and

an occasion that fills the restaurant

in our famous blueberry pancakes or a

paperwork—invoices, supplier orders,

one ever romanticizes, but there’s a comfort

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

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

of annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood for

look him in the eyes, no matter how

cup in his hand. “Can

chair opposite me. “Do you need something,

smile, he places the coffee on

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

all set, but thanks.”

silent acknowledgment of

after last

to talk about it. Hell, I don’t even

about it.

in Karl’s gesture. His concern

have been

a faint smile. “Just another bump in the

gaze softening. “True. But if

rant, I’m here.”

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

a moment, as if weighing his words.

not, okay? I appreciate the concern, but I’d rather focus

a brunch crowd to

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

…

drawn and pale. “Abby, we’ve got a problem. John’s

fever.”

out on what promises to be one of our

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

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

be out for a

line cooks, overhears, his face mirroring my concern. “What’re we

We’re fully booked tonight.”

breath. “We adapt. That’s

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

but he’s the

“Karl!”

jerks up, eyes scanning the

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

hoping to find

I clarify. “You

slowly, almost warily. “Sure, but are

I reply

bandana he’s started wearing