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.

mornings are special here. The windows filter in a

melodious chatter of customers combines with the

ambiance that’s both lively and

an occasion that fills the restaurant with both families and lone diners

famous blueberry pancakes

a drawer, I retrieve a stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier orders, and the like.

romanticizes, but there’s a

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

soft knock interrupts my thoughts. My gaze flickers

of annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood for interruptions. And

the eyes, no matter how beautiful and chocolatey

coffee cup in his

towards the chair opposite me.

he places the coffee on my desk.

then back at him, a teasing smirk playing on my lips. “Seems

all set, but thanks.”

acknowledgment of our shared moment

check on you after

want to talk about it. Hell, I

about it.

unexpectedly sweet in Karl’s gesture. His concern

the pitying glances others have been throwing my way sinceI got

good, Karl,” I lie, managing a faint smile. “Just another bump in the road. We all have those,

gaze softening. “True. But if you ever

rant, I’m here.”

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

moment, as if weighing his words. “Look,

okay? I

a brunch

lips curl into a knowing smile. “Alright,

…

his face drawn and pale.

fever.”

to be one of our

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

shrugs, chewing his lips. “I think so, but he didn’t

be out for

overhears, his face mirroring my concern.

We’re fully booked tonight.”

breath. “We adapt. That’s all we can

a solution. That’s when

he’s the only other pair of

“Karl!”

scanning the kitchen before

kitchen,” I state,

looks around, as if hoping to find

“You can

“Sure, but are you

times,” I reply

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