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

yell, and servers swoop in

I hear John’s voice, commanding but not

about balance. You want enough sauce so it’s flavorful

much that

listen,

his tone earnest. He adjusts the angle of his tongs

the plate, a garnish of parsley

John comments, and Karl beams, clearly

a small interaction, but it feels like a giant leap forward for both of them—and for me.

John weave around each other in a sort of uneasy

to get the meals out, and not a single steak

overcooked.

the last few diners are savoring their desserts, I

and take

the first time in a long while, the kitchen is

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

sign of what could be rather than

the kitchen, and this time it’s me who gives the nod of approval.

corners as he allows himself a small

…

of the kitchen into

conversation filling the air. I’m about

seated awkwardly behind the

forth.

I rush over,

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

she says, grimacing

flushed face, her ankle swelling before my eyes, and shake

home. Put that leg up. I’ll take over

to protest, her eyes filled with

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

yourself.”

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

limps out of the restaurant,

turning my attention to Daisy’s tables.

to be an acquaintance of mine, sitting there with her

owns the place.

Here we go.

I greet, forcing a

isn’t Abby,” Emily says, a stiff

you.”

equally stiff smile and tuck a strand of hair

good things.”

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

“Of course,” Emily says.

get you

a gin and tonic,” Emily

sweetness.

I reply, making a note on my

of their conversation, laced with contempt. “Wow.

a fluke, but

run her own restaurant, but has

running the place. Probably gave it over

you know. Letting Alpha Karl

eyes.”

start to tremble. I head into the back room to catch