Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 37: Late Again
Abby

The once golden glow of the candles seems dull now. The shadows in the room stretch longer, a stark

contrast to the beautifully set table, pristine and untouched. The wine, once poured with anticipation,

sits still, a silent witness to my growing anxiety. The aroma of the truffle oil, once intoxicating, now only

serves as a bitter reminder of the love I had poured into preparing for this evening.

The clock on the wall seems to mock me with its relentless ticking, each second stretching into an

eternity. My phone lays idle beside me, and the absence of a call or message from Adam weighs

heavily on my heart.

Trying to ward off the budding dread, I take a deep breath and dial his number. “Maybe he’s stuck in

traffic or something,” I think to myself. “Or, g od forbid, he got into an accident.”

After dialing his number, I hold my phone up to my ear with a shaky hand. The soft hum of the ringtone

echoes in the silence.

After what feels like a lifetime, he answers. The din of background noises hits me instantly—shouts,

laughter, the unmistakable hustle and bustle of his restaurant.

My stomach sinks. He’s working. I should have known better.

“Adam?” My voice quivers slightly.

“Abby? What’s up?”

His casual tone catches me off guard, and I try to steady myself. “What’s up? Seriously? You were

supposed to be here over an hour ago!”

“Oh…right. About that,” he starts, his voice hurried and distracted. “Look, Abby, I got swamped here.

Thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if I sat this one out. You know, have dinner by yourself? You can

save me some leftovers for tomorrow, right?”

Tears pr ick at my eyes, and I feel a twinge of anger. “This wasn’t just about the food, Adam! It was

us, about spending time together, reconnecting. This was about

Just this once, I actually wanted you to follow through with our

Abby,” he interrupts. “Don’t make a mountain out of

I whimper, biting my lip to keep it from quivering. “You

would be that big of a

you know?”

Like last week, when you took me out?” I counter,

says, sounding annoyed now. “Just like last week,

your request,

“Be honest with me, Adam,” I say,

me if you had been able

restaurant and

teeth on the other end,

have gone to work that night, I would have, Abby.

But we

feel sick. I knew all along that he would have rather gone to work

is like reopening

pr ods. “Admit it: we had fun. It was

wasn’t about just having fun, Adam,” I hiss. “Yeah, the dancing and the drinks were fun.

to drink, just like you always do when we’re together. It’s like…

unless you’re

sounds of the bustling kitchen coming through his end of the

think I can hear him put his hand over the receiver and

my blood boil

“Of course I can be sober around

into that

his

hesitate, the hurt from that

intimate with me.”

the details—the vibrant colors of the fresh roses,

the lace curtains from the

few hours ago.

is silent again,

“Adam?” I call out.

clears his throat. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he

relationship?” I ask, my

needs me right now, and I can’t be

just reschedule?”

attitude is the final straw. Tears stream down my face,

put

just push to another