Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 389

Abby

The paint sloshes in the can as I pour it out into the tray, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow with the other hand.

“Just three more walls to go,” Leah says. “And then…”

“And then another coat,” I add with a laugh. “But we can do that another day.”

After I’ve finished pouring the paint into the tray, I straighten and look around. The little restaurant that I now call my own is just about ready to open; the wrought iron tables and chairs just arrived yesterday, the bar is finished, and the dining room looks sunny and bright with this fresh coat of creamy yellow paint that Leah and I have spent the day putting up.

“Are you excited for the grand opening?” Leah asks as we get back to work.

I can’t hide my smile. “Of course I am. I’m counting down the days.”

Twelve days. Just twelve days until our grand opening of my new restaurant: Abby’s Pizza. I’ve decided to keep the menu simple, specializing in wood-fired pizzas, fresh salads made from the little garden out back, and hearty desserts.

And with Leah by my side as my new restaurant manager, things are going to be different. I’m staying in the kitchen this time, where I feel most at home and connected to my work.

“I still can’t thank you enough for hiring me,” Leah says with a grin. “I always secretly wanted to join the rest of you guys working at the place in the city, but I couldn’t leave my old job.”

A smile splits across my face at Leah’s words. It wasn’t our initial plan to work together, but I needed staff for the new restaurant—and when she came to me last week to tell me that she was interested in working for me, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.

“Well, you can put your accounting skills to use here,” I reply as I dip my paint roller back in the tray and continue slathering yellow paint across the stucco walls. “All I have left to do is interview for the new bartend—”

Before I can finish, the sound of glass shattering causes me to jump and drop my paint roller on the ground, splashing yellow paint everywhere. Leah and I freeze for a moment, our eyes wide, before running toward the source of the noise.

“Oh no!” I cry out, clutching my hair as I see the mess in front of us. “What the hell—”

As I take in the shattered window in front of me, glass pieces strewn all around the floor, it feels as if I’m instantly transported back to the city—back to that night when someone threw a brick through my window.

“God, I thought I got away from this,” I mutter, blinking back the tears that are beginning to fill my eyes. “Who would do something like this?”

“Abby, wait.”

I turn to see Leah standing behind me, holding a soccer ball in her hand. “I don’t think this was on purpose.”

A soccer ball. Not a brick. It almost makes me laugh, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’ve been holding.

Taking the ball from Leah, I poke my head out the shattered window and into the street. “Hello?” I call out. “Who threw this?”

There’s no answer; but I do see several small, childlike shapes duck behind a nearby building. With one last incredulous glance at Leah, I push out the front door and follow the shadows until the sound of childish whispering catches my ear from around the corner.

“Shh… She’s coming!”

“Oh no! My mom is gonna kill me!”

“Should we run?”

“We’re gonna go to jail forever!”

“No one’s going to jail.” I step out from the other side of the building, holding the soccer ball under one arm with my other hand on my hip. Three little kids—two boys and a girl—turn and gawk up at me, their eyes wide and saucer-like as they realize they’ve been caught.

“Does this ball belong to you kids?” I ask, still stifling a laugh.

“No!” the little girl, wearing pigtails with big brown eyes, says immediately.

One of the boys nods along with her. “Yeah, it was some other kids. It wasn’t us who kicked the ball too hard and broke your window, ma’am.”

“Oh, is that so?” I ask, smirking. “You just happen to know exactly what happened, then?”

“Mhm.” The other boy, wearing overalls and wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve, nods. “Yep, we saw the whole thing.”

With a laugh, I crouch down in front of them, still holding the ball, and watch as their eyes drift hungrily over to the ball. It’s clearly theirs. “So you’re telling me that this ball belongs to some other kids?” I tease.

There’s a long pause as the kids look awkwardly back and forth before the little girl finally steps up, twisting one pigtail nervously around her finger.

“It’s our ball, ma’am,” she says bashfully.

“But it was an accident, we promise!” the little boy wearing overalls chimes in.

I sigh softly, shaking my head. But I’m not mad, not really; I’d never get mad at kids just being kids. And besides, it’s just a window. It can be replaced. But then, I have an idea.

“Tell you what,” I say, tossing the ball a bit in my hand. “Let me play with you for a bit, and I’ll forgive you for breaking my window.”

The kids look back and forth between one another, pondering my proposal, before one of the little boys finally nods. “Okay, miss. You can play soccer with us.”

“Excellent.” I stand, holding the ball out to them. “You start.”

…

The sun is setting, casting a warm golden hue across the cobblestone streets. The air is filled with the sound of laughter and the soft thudding of a soccer ball being kicked around. From across the street, Leah grins at me, having joined in on the impromptu game.

“Goal!” the little girl in pigtails calls out, pumping her fists victoriously in the air as she kicks the ball straight between two lamp posts.

I can’t hide the grin on my face. The yellow paint still sits in the tray inside, and the broken glass is still scattered on the floor, but somehow this feels more important.

I’m happy that I took the plunge in coming here, and it’s moments like this that solidify that for me.

Suddenly, a soft breeze blows across the street, carrying with it a familiar scent. I recognize it immediately, and jerk my head up from my game with a smile. A familiar head of brown hair, tousled by the wind, catches my eye. Karl and his father are walking our way, but I only see Karl.

“Karl,” I breathe. He’s outlined by the setting sun, almost like a golden halo around his entire body. As he approaches, I can see the warm smile on his face and the intimate look in his brown eyes. He stops a few paces away, just watching us play as he says something to his father.

And it feels like everything else around us slows down in time.