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 golden hue, casting warm patches of

wooden floors. The melodious chatter of customers

that’s both

means brunch, an occasion that fills the

famous blueberry pancakes

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

romanticizes,

check, it’s all a testament to

soft knock interrupts my thoughts. My gaze flickers up

I was in no mood for interruptions.

to look him in the eyes, no matter how

coffee cup in his hand. “Can

I gesture towards the chair opposite me. “Do you

slight smile, he places the coffee

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

all set, but thanks.”

eyes hold a twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment

check on you after last night,” he says.

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

about it.

sweet in Karl’s gesture. His concern feels

pitying glances others have been

“Just another bump in the road. We

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

rant, I’m here.”

from me. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in

if weighing his words. “Look,

him off. “Let’s not, okay? I appreciate the concern, but I’d rather

brunch

a knowing smile. “Alright, boss

…

and pale. “Abby,

fever.”

being out on what promises to be one

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

he didn’t look good. Said he’s been throwing up

probably be out for a

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

We’re fully booked tonight.”

“We adapt. That’s all

That’s when

caught up in his task, but he’s the only other pair of hands

“Karl!”

up, eyes scanning the

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

as if hoping

“You

slowly, almost warily. “Sure, but are you sure about

reply with a

adjusting the bandana he’s started wearing when doing