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

and servers swoop in

voice, commanding but not overbearing, instructing Karl on the proper way

balance. You want

so much that it’s

pause to listen, holding

He adjusts the angle of his tongs

on the plate, a garnish of parsley providing the finishing

beams, clearly pleased by the rare

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

John weave around each other in a sort

get the meals out, and

overcooked.

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

step back and take

kitchen is humming with the sort of collaborative

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

a sign of what could be rather than what has

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

at the corners as he allows himself a small

…

kitchen

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

Daisy seated awkwardly behind the bar, clutching her ankle and

forth.

over, my eyes narrowing with

table nine. Just give me five minutes and I’ll get

says, grimacing with

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

home. Put that leg up.

protest, her eyes filled with

worry about that. Whatever tips you miss out on tonight, I’ll cover. Just

yourself.”

finally nodding, gratitude

I say as she limps out

a notepad, turning my attention

an acquaintance of mine, sitting there with

owns the place.

Here we go.

all again,” I greet, forcing a smile as I approach the

well! If it isn’t Abby,” Emily says, a stiff smile taking over her features. “We were

you.”

an equally stiff smile and tuck a strand of hair behind

good things.”

and her friends exchange glances, their eyes tw

“Of course,” Emily says.

you started with some

and

sweetness.

up,” I reply, making a note

my ears catch snippets of their conversation, laced with contempt. “Wow. Last time

a fluke, but she’s

run her own restaurant, but has

running the place. Probably

was always like that, you know. Letting Alpha Karl

eyes.”

start to tremble. I head into