Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Chapter 0304

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 Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

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.”

…

The kitchen is alive with activity as John, Anton, and I work together to perfect the dishes for the Alpha

party. The sound of music plays over the kitchen speakers, drowning out the din of preparations in the

dining area.

We’ve been at it for hours, but each of us is too excited to stop anytime soon. With each successful

practice dish, it’s like we get another wave of adrenaline pushing us forward.

At one point, though, something unexpected happens.

Anton’s phone rings, and he glances at the caller ID with a puzzled expression before answering it.

“Hello?”

There’s a pause, and then it happens. His eyes go wide, and without another word, he’s slipping out

the back door into the alley, his voice fading before I can make out anything that he’s saying.

John and I exchange glances.

“Wonder what that’s about,” John muses as he sears a steak on the grill.

I shrug and don’t say anything. It’s not my business, and I shouldn’t snoop. But it’s also rare for Anton

to receive a phone call, especially one where he rushes off like that. I can’t help but be a little curious.

When Anton returns to the kitchen, there are tears in his eyes, and he looks at me with a mix of

emotions that I can’t quite read.

“Anton?” I ask, setting down my knife. “Are you okay?”

But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he approaches me and, without a word, pulls me into a tight hug. It

takes me by surprise.

“Anton, what’s going on?”

I can’t help but feel a rush of joy for Anton. “That’s wonderful news, Anton,” I say, offering him a smile.

“I’m really happy for you.”

Anton shakes his head, his eyes filled with gratitude. “No, Abby, you don’t understand. It’s all because

of you.”

I furrow my brow, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”

Anton takes a moment to compose himself before continuing. “It was you who took me in when I had

nowhere else to go. You gave me the chance to work in your kitchen. You got me off the streets and

provided me with a job and a purpose. And it was Karl who paid for my lodging until I had the money to

get my own little apartment.” Updаted at Drамanоvels.cом

Tears well up in my eyes, but before I can respond, he continues.

I’m speechless. The tears in my eyes spill over, and without a word, I throw my arms around Anton and

hug him tightly.

“I’m so incredibly happy for you, Anton,” I say, my voice choked with tears. “You deserve all the

happiness and love in the world.”

Anton nods, tears welling up in his own eyes. “Merci, really. Both of you.”