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

melodious chatter of customers combines with

that’s both

an occasion that fills the restaurant with both families

famous blueberry pancakes or a hearty

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

romanticizes, but there’s a comfort in the

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

thoughts. My gaze flickers up to

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

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

cup in his hand. “Can I come in?”

I gesture towards the chair opposite me.

the coffee on my

glance at my almost full coffee mug, then back at him,

all set, but thanks.”

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

wanted to check on you after last night,” he says.

floods my cheeks. I don’t want to talk

about it.

in Karl’s gesture. His

glances others have been throwing my way sinceI

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

the seriousness in his gaze softening. “True. But

rant, I’m here.”

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

moment, as if weighing

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

got a brunch crowd

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

…

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

fever.”

be one of our busiest

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

think so, but he didn’t look good. Said he’s been throwing up

or something. He’ll probably be

of my other line cooks, overhears, his face mirroring

We’re fully booked tonight.”

deep breath. “We

mind races, trying to figure out a solution. That’s when

task, but he’s the

“Karl!”

eyes scanning the

in the kitchen,” I state, my tone

around, as if hoping to find an

“You

“Sure, but are

I reply with

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