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

floors. The melodious chatter of customers combines with the clink of cutlery,

both lively and

an occasion that fills the restaurant with both families

in our famous blueberry pancakes or a hearty

paperwork—invoices, supplier orders,

ever romanticizes, but there’s a comfort in the routine of

all a testament to the world I’ve built brick

gaze flickers up to find

ajar door. A touch of annoyance bubbles up; I was in

look him in the eyes, no matter how

in his hand. “Can I

chair opposite

slight smile, he places the coffee on my desk. “Thought you might need

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

all set, but thanks.”

twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment of our shared moment in my apartment

you after last night,” he says.

cheeks. I don’t want to talk

about it.

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

the pitying glances others have been throwing my way

smile. “Just another bump in the road. We all have

the seriousness in his gaze softening. “True. But if you ever need to talk or… well,

rant, I’m here.”

a soft chuckle from me. “Thanks. I’ll

as if weighing

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

brunch crowd

smile.

…

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

fever.”

on what promises to be one of

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

but he

be out for

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

We’re fully booked tonight.”

a deep breath. “We

That’s when I

the only other pair of

“Karl!”

eyes scanning the kitchen

I state, my

around, as if hoping to find

clarify. “You

nods slowly, almost warily. “Sure,

reply with

a deep breath, adjusting the bandana he’s started wearing when