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

presentation; everything

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

not

about balance. You want enough sauce so

much

listen, holding

John,” Karl replies, his tone earnest. He adjusts the

a garnish of parsley providing the

and Karl beams, clearly pleased by the rare

it feels like a giant leap forward for both of them—and

I watch Karl and John weave around each other in a sort

the meals

overcooked.

as the clock ticks past nine and the last few diners are savoring their desserts, I

step back and

long while, the kitchen is humming with

just a place to eat. It’s not perfect, far from it, but it’s a

what could be rather

kitchen, and this time it’s me

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

…

out from the frenetic energy of the kitchen into the main dining area, the clinking

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

seated awkwardly behind the bar, clutching her ankle and rocking back

forth.

I rush over, my eyes narrowing with

rolled my ankle while serving table nine. Just give me five minutes

says, grimacing with each

look at her flushed face, her ankle swelling before my eyes,

home. Put that leg up. I’ll take over your tables

to protest, her eyes filled with worry. “But the

that. Whatever tips you miss out on tonight, I’ll cover. Just go home and take care

yourself.”

a moment before finally nodding, gratitude flooding her features. “Thank you,

say as she limps out of the restaurant, supported by

turning my

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

owns the place.

Here we go.

you all again,” I greet, forcing a smile

If it isn’t Abby,” Emily says, a stiff smile taking over

you.”

you?” I manage an equally stiff smile and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

good things.”

their eyes tw

“Of course,” Emily says.

you started

red wines, a cosmopolitan, and a gin and tonic,”

sweetness.

right up,” I reply, making

catch snippets of their conversation, laced with contempt.

fluke, but

think an ex-Luna doesn’t even get to run

place. Probably gave it

that, you know. Letting

eyes.”

start to tremble. I