Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 304

Abby

I’m standing in the kitchen, the crates of ingredients scattered around. It feels unreal, how fast everything is coming together. The bustle of Mr. Thompson’s team in the dining area seeps through the walls, and although I have an urge to go out there and try to lend a hand, I know that I’m better off staying in here where I can focus on the menu.

“Okay,” I murmur to myself as I pick up the menu that Mr. Thompson gave me earlier.

Everything seems so exquisite, from hors d’oeuvres to entrees to desserts—prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, cured meat and smoked cheddar charcuterie, oysters, frutti di mare, creme brulee, and that’s just to name a few.

It’s a long list, but I know that with my team, I can manage it. Anton and John aren’t scheduled to arrive for a while yet, but I’m thankful for a bit of peace and quiet so I can get some practicing done ahead of time.

Rolling up my sleeves, I get to work with the first dish. I gather the ingredients from the crates and start chopping, sauteing, and braising.

But as I cook, my mind starts to wander. The dress that I bought is still hanging in my closet; a beautiful pearlescent white with a low back and plunging neckline. I can still feel the luxurious fabric on my skin, and I can’t help but wonder how it’ll look glimmering beneath the lights at the party.

I want to go to the party. After everything, after all of the hard work I put in, isn’t it only fair that I get to enjoy the fruits of my labor for a little while? But the truth is, I never asked if I could even attend, if it would even be appropriate.

As I stir a pot of pasta sauce, I keep going back and forth in my mind. Finally, I set the pot aside and wipe my hands on my apron.

I should ask. It’s that simple.

I make my way out to the dining area, where the team is still in full swing. Tables have been rearranged to create a dance floor, pristine white table cloths cover each surface, and beautifully curated vases of flowers are scattered around.

A man is standing on a ladder in the center of the room, hanging garlands, and Mr. Thompson is standing beneath him and watching. I hesitate for a moment, and almost scurry back to the kitchen, but it’s too late. Mr. Thompson is already turning, and he sees me.

“Abby, what can I do for you?” he asks.

I clear my throat, feeling a bit self-conscious about bringing up my request, but it’s a bit too late now. “Well, I was thinking about the party, and I was wondering if I could... you know, mingle a bit. Just for a while.”

Mr. Thompson’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “You want to attend the party tomorrow?”

I swallow and shake my head nervously. Suddenly, I feel like I’m being ridiculous. I’m the caterer, not an attendee. “No, never mind. It’s silly—”

But Mr. Thompson just chuckles. “Of course you can attend, Abby. In fact, I think people would be excited to see you there. You’ve become a bit of a local celebrity, you know.”

“Really?” I ask.

He nods. “Absolutely. I’ll send a hair and makeup artist for you—”

But I shake my head again, more firmly this time. “No,” I blurt out. “I’d rather do it myself.”

Mr. Thompson quirks an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

I nod, thinking back to all of the times that I felt like my makeup was a mask meant to hide my true self. It’s a choice I’ve made, and I’m sticking to it.

Mr. Thompson, seeing my conviction, simply smiles. “Okay, that’s fine. We’ll be looking forward to seeing you at the event, then.”

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