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.”

murmurs. “You moved on so quickly after Karl. Are you sure it was moving

not just…

fighting the truth in her words.

“But look, Abby, he’s a workaholic. He’s not treating you

to end things, know

with conflicting emotions. “I need to

remember…” Chloe’s voice is soft and comforting. “You

someone’s priority.”

my voice as I change the subject. “Hey, speaking of priorities,

be on a date

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

very good.”

so soon?

I join in. The comfort of our shared

was thrilling, but,

for always being there, Chlo,” I say, feeling the weight of the night’s disappointment ease a

voice. “And remember, you’re not alone. Not

call, my emotions

sip of the deep crimson wine, its flavor, though rich,

room is drenched in warm hues from the strategically

ceilings and ornate woodwork of

chosen with care, seems

fury, I swipe at a plate of caprese salad, sending cherry tomatoes

leaves.

I

more force than necessary, I begin scraping the

risotto, the delicate veal. Everything is discarded, just like the

moments in our relationship, is heartbreakingly thrown

cathartic—albeit wasteful—process when an idea, perhaps

wine, hits me.

aloud, the name acting like a beacon in the fog

had always been different—reliable, true to his word. He’s an as shole, but in

of Adam. And I miss him,

the second, and perhaps the wine lending a hand, I

familiar ring on the other

breaks

into my impromptu

softly. “You mean the restaurant

my place. I cooked up a storm, and

an

contemplative than awkward.

trying to decipher the unexpected

he starts, “It’s

“Adam bailed on me. Again. And I just…

all this food,