Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 38: A Promise
Abby

The weight of loneliness presses down on me as the pristine table setting lies untouched. The absence

of Adam’s presence burns more than any verbal rebuke ever could. Frustration bubbles within me as I

glare at the untouched plates of food, each dish meticulously crafted to symbolize the deep affection I

hold for him.

“This dam ned evening…” I mutter under my breath.

My fingers tremble slightly as I quickly text Chloe: “Adam didn’t show. AGAIN.”

Before I can even put my phone down, it’s vibrating, and Chloe’s name flashes across the screen. I

take a deep breath and answer. “Hey.”

Chloe wastes no time, her voice thick with worry and frustration. “Abby, what the hell happened? Did he

at least call?”

I sigh, trying to hold back my tears. “I waited, Chloe. Set the table, lit candles, even put on that playlist

he loves. An hour goes by, and nothing. So I called him. And guess where he is?”

Chloe huffs. “Let me guess. The restaurant?”

“Bingo,” I mutter bitterly. “And the best part? He acted like it was just another day. Like he hadn’t

promised he’d be here just yesterday.”

There’s a pause on Chloe’s end before she says, “Abby, how many times are you going to let him do

this? This isn’t what love looks like.”

My voice cra cks a bit as I feel the irresistible urge to defend him, even though I know it’s wrong. “But

we share so much. The passion for food, our dreams… There are moments, Chloe, where everything

feels right. I love him.”

Chloe takes a deep breath, “You remember that one time we tried to bake Leah’s birthday cake, and

we accidentally mistook salt for sugar? On the surface, they looked so similar but tasted worlds apart.

Maybe that’s Adam. Looks right but isn’t good for you.”

I’m taken aback by her words, the truth in them stinging. “I… I don’t know, Chloe. Maybe I’m afraid of

being alone.”

is,” Chloe murmurs. “You moved on so quickly after Karl. Are you sure

just… moving

fighting the truth in her words. “Adam’s not a

concedes. “But look, Abby, he’s a workaholic. He’s not treating you right. And if

know that everyone would

with conflicting emotions. “I

and comforting. “You deserve happiness. You deserve to

someone’s priority.”

voice as I change the subject. “Hey, speaking

on

the other end. “Oh, it was… well, let’s just say it

very good.”

Leaving so soon? That must’ve been…

join in. The comfort of our shared humor momentarily eases my pain. “Let’s just

thrilling, but,

Chlo,” I say, feeling the weight of the night’s disappointment ease

replies, warmth evident in her voice. “And remember, you’re not alone. Not

end the call, my

the deep crimson wine, its flavor, though rich, now tainted by the bitterness

in warm hues from the strategically

high ceilings and ornate woodwork of

seems

I swipe at a plate of caprese salad, sending

leaves.

I whisper

I begin scraping the

veal. Everything is discarded, just like the promises Adam made.

our relationship,

this cathartic—albeit wasteful—process when an idea, perhaps influenced

wine, hits me.

say aloud, the name acting like a

to his word. He’s an as shole,

Adam. And I miss

bolder by the second, and perhaps the wine lending a hand, I dial Karl’s number. My

familiar ring on the other

voice breaks through my spiraling

a deep breath, I plunge into my impromptu plan. “Hey, Karl. Fancy some

chuckles softly. “You mean the

at my place.

feed an army. Care

more contemplative than awkward. I

furrowing, trying to

he starts, “It’s late. Is

lip, debating how much to reveal. “Adam bailed on me.

all this food,