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

perfect, he’s an important part of this

my hand across the desk. “Apology accepted. Let’s move on and make this

for

agrees, shaking my

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

to the kitchen.

shut behind him, I can’t help but feel a small sense of relief. One

many more to

…

like any other, the staff bustling around the kitchen as

John’s tone

of sauce reduction to Karl,

he gives

into high gear. Plates are flying, stoves

thick with the tantalizing smells of grilled

chaos, there’s an underlying current of teamwork that

sliding the plates onto the counter. I do a

presentation; everything

people!” I yell, and servers swoop in to whisk the dishes

not

“Remember, Karl, it’s all about balance. You

much

listen,

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

the plate, a garnish

John comments, and Karl beams, clearly pleased by the rare

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