Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chapter 101
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 an important part of

my hand across the desk. “Apology accepted. Let’s move

for

shaking my hand

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

to the kitchen.

can’t help but feel a small sense of relief.

many more to

…

the staff bustling around the kitchen as orders start pouring

a palpable change in the atmosphere. John’s tone is softer, more

the finer points of sauce reduction

he

into high gear. Plates are

thick with the tantalizing smells of grilled meat, sautéed vegetables, and melting

there’s an underlying current of

sliding the plates onto

presentation; everything

servers swoop in to whisk the

hear John’s voice, commanding but not overbearing, instructing

all about balance. You

so much

listen, holding my

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

on the plate, a garnish

beams, clearly pleased

feels like a giant leap forward for both of them—and for me. As the