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.

The windows filter in a

chatter of customers combines with the clink of

ambiance that’s both

that fills the restaurant with both families

in our famous blueberry pancakes

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

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

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

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

of annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood

to look him in the eyes, no matter how beautiful and chocolatey they

the takeout coffee cup in his hand. “Can I

I gesture towards the chair opposite me.

places the coffee on my

at him, a teasing smirk playing

all set, but thanks.”

nkle, a silent acknowledgment of our shared moment in

you after last night,” he says. “I’m…

don’t want to talk about it. Hell,

about it.

in Karl’s gesture. His concern

glances others have

a faint smile. “Just another bump in the road. We all

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

rant, I’m here.”

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

a moment, as if

okay? I appreciate the concern, but I’d rather focus

a brunch

knowing smile. “Alright, boss lady.

…

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

fever.”

sinks. John being out on what promises to be one

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

“I think so, but he didn’t

food poisoning or something. He’ll probably be out for a few

his face

We’re fully booked tonight.”

a deep breath. “We adapt. That’s all

solution. That’s when I

up in his task, but he’s the

“Karl!”

the kitchen before settling on

I state, my tone

as if hoping to

clarify. “You

“Sure,

times,” I reply

adjusting the bandana he’s started wearing when doing his tasks.