Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 65: Apologies
The aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering tomato sauce fills the air as I sit at my desk,

reviewing the inventory for the week.

It’s still early in the day, but the restaurant has already started to come alive. My eyes flit over numbers

and figures, but my thoughts keep drifting to the chaos of last night—Karl, John, Ethan, and that cook-

off looming in the future like a beacon of both opportunity and uncertainty.

As I’m about to turn my attention to the newly arrived email from Calvin, there’s a soft knock on my

door. “Come in,” I call out, hoping it’s not another crisis that needs immediate attention.

The door opens, and it’s John, looking a little sheepish. “Hey, Abby, you got a minute?”

I nod, gesturing for him to take a seat. “Sure, what’s on your mind?”

He hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “Look, about last night—I lost my cool, and I shouldn’t have

said what I did. I was…riled up, and I didn’t mean it. It was a long evening.”

I eye him skeptically, remembering his cutting remarks and confrontational demeanor. “You think?”

He winces. “I do. And I’m sorry. If you’re willing to forgive an old dog for his foolishness, I promise I’ll

train Karl properly and be more respectful. To everyone.”

The sincerity in his voice tips the balance for me. We’ve been through a lot, John and I, and though

he’s far from perfect, he’s an important part of this restaurant’s soul.

“Alright,” I say, extending my hand across the desk. “Apology accepted. Let’s move on and make this a

great place for everyone. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees, shaking my hand firmly.

“Great. Let’s get back out there; dinner service won’t prep itself,” I say, and we both stand to head back

to the kitchen.

As the door swings shut behind him, I can’t help but feel a small sense of relief. One hurdle cleared, but

still so many more to go.

…

The evening begins like any other, the staff bustling around the kitchen as orders start pouring in.

But there’s a palpable change in the atmosphere. John’s tone is softer, more instructive, less caustic. I

see him explaining the finer points of sauce reduction to Karl, who listens intently. My eyes meet John’s

for a moment, and he gives me a nod.

The dinner rush kicks in, and everyone springs into high gear. Plates are flying, stoves are blazing, and

the air is thick with the tantalizing smells of grilled meat, sautéed vegetables, and melting cheese.

But despite the chaos, there’s an underlying current of teamwork that wasn’t there before.

“Table six is ready to go, Abby,” Ethan calls out, sliding the plates onto the counter. I do a quick check

everything looks

let’s move, people!” I yell, and servers swoop in to whisk the

not overbearing, instructing Karl on

“Remember, Karl, it’s all about balance. You want enough sauce so it’s

much that

to listen,

replies, his tone earnest. He adjusts the angle of his tongs and the pasta

on the plate, a garnish of parsley providing the

comments, and Karl beams, clearly pleased by the rare

but it feels like a giant leap forward for both

watch Karl and John weave around each other

working together to get the meals

overcooked.

last few diners

back and take it all

kitchen

eat. It’s not perfect, far from it,

could

the kitchen, and this time it’s me who gives the

back, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he allows himself

…

out from the frenetic energy of the kitchen into

filling the air. I’m about to congratulate myself on

spot Daisy seated awkwardly behind the bar, clutching her ankle

forth.

happened?” I rush over, my eyes narrowing

ankle while serving table nine. Just give me five minutes and

she says, grimacing with each

flushed face, her ankle swelling before my eyes, and

up.

to protest, her eyes filled with

that. Whatever tips you miss out on tonight,

yourself.”

before finally nodding, gratitude

better, okay?” I say as she limps out of

notepad, turning my attention to Daisy’s tables. And

used to be an acquaintance of mine, sitting there with her friends, smirking

owns the place.

Here we go.

again,” I greet, forcing a smile

Abby,” Emily says, a stiff smile

you.”

tuck a strand of hair

good things.”

her friends exchange glances, their eyes tw inkling with a fakeness

“Of course,” Emily says.

you started with

cosmopolitan, and a gin and

sweetness.

right up,” I reply, making

of their

fluke, but she’s

doesn’t even get to run her own restaurant, but has to

a giggle. “Maybe she can’t handle running the place. Probably

that, you know. Letting Alpha Karl run everything, always giving

eyes.”

words, my hands start to tremble. I head into the back room to catch