Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 61

It’s Friday afternoon before the dinner rush, both the best—and worst—time to get this over with. The idea, planted in my head by Ethan, has been rolling around in my head for two days. Finally, I decide to set it into motion.

I lean against the door frame of my office, taking a deep breath before calling out, “Karl, John, could you both come in here for a moment?”

I don’t miss the sidelong glances exchanged between the two men as they cross the threshold. It’s as if the air thickens, charged with an electricity that neither wants to acknowledge but can’t ignore.

“Please have a seat,” I instruct, nodding toward the two chairs across from my desk.

Karl takes a seat, folding his arms over his chest as if steeling himself for battle. John follows suit but not before shooting Karl a disdainful look, one that he returns with equal measure. The atmosphere is so tense I could snap it with a knife.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk, my eyes shifting from one to the other. “Listen, both of you have been valuable members of this team. But we’ve got a problem—a serious one. Karl, you can be as stubborn as a mule, and John, you have a knack for being, well, grating.”

The looks on their faces tell me they both want to protest, but I hold up a hand to stop them.

“And so I’ve made a decision,” I continue, locking eyes with each of them in turn. “Starting today, Karl, you will be working under John to learn the ropes as a line cook.”

For a moment, stunned silence fills the room. And then, as if a fuse has been lit, both men spring to their feet.

“No way, Abby,” Karl growls, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. “No way in hell am I working under him.”

“You can’t be serious, Abby!” John chimes in, red-faced and incredulous. “I’d rather be fired than work with this jackass!”

The tension escalates, each man bristling like a cornered animal, inches away from lunging at each other. It’s a volatile stand-off, a powder keg ready to explode.

“Sit down,” I snap, my voice laced with a finality that allows no room for argument.

To my surprise, they both comply, although the atmosphere is still buzzing with palpable animosity. I seize the moment to make my stance abundantly clear.

“Look, if either of you would rather walk out that door than make this work, then by all means go ahead,” I say, gesturing toward the door with an outstretched arm. “But understand that this is a restaurant, a team. If either of you can’t adapt, then you’re the ones who are out of place, not the team.”

I can practically hear the gears grinding in their heads, weighing options, simmering egos. Karl’s eyes meet mine, and I see it—the unspoken understanding, the awareness that there’s something more at stake here for him.

For us.

As for John, he’s worked with me for years. I’ve seen him passionately involved in his work, genuinely invested in the team. Quitting now would be admitting defeat, something I know goes against his very core.

Neither of the men move to leave. I feel a slight twinge of both relief and trepidation in my core, and take a deep breath.

“Starting today, Karl, you'll be apprenticing under John,” I say, setting my words in stone. “I expect you both to put your differences aside for the good of this restaurant. And let me be perfectly clear—if there are any issues, any at all, you’ll both answer for them. Am I understood?”

Both men lock eyes with me, the reality of my ultimatum sinking in. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but one that comes with the territory of teamwork, of personal growth.

I cut her off, my voice a little harsher than I intended. “That was different, Chloe.”

“How is it different now, Abby?” Chloe presses, clearly agitated. “Why extend a favor to him that he never granted you?”

I open my mouth, but the words don’t come.

Because she’s right, in a way.

Karl never granted me leniency in the past, never gave me the space to make mistakes. But then again, life’s messy, and people aren’t mathematical equations that can be balanced with ease. They’re paradoxes, bundles of contradictions that rarely make perfect sense.

Chloe seems to pick up on my hesitation, my unspoken thoughts. She huffs, visibly frustrated. “Look, Abby, if you don't want to talk about it, fine,” she snarls. “But I’ve got to get back to work.”

She starts to walk away, leaving me alone with a crate full of liquor and a head full of doubts. I watch her go, my eyes tracing the tense set of her shoulders, the firm line of her back.

I’m left sitting there, my mind racing as I replay the confrontation with Karl and John, the tension with Chloe, and the unspoken complexities of my past with Karl. Chloe’s words continue to echo in my mind.

Why am I so adamant about giving Karl a chance?

Why am I risking the harmony of my kitchen, my team, for one man who may or may not deserve it?