Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chapter 38

#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.”

Chloe murmurs. “You moved on so quickly after Karl. Are

just… moving

bite my lip, fighting the truth in her

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

things, know that everyone would

with conflicting emotions. “I need to cool off,

comforting. “You

someone’s priority.”

voice as I change the subject.

on a

can imagine her blushing on the other end. “Oh, it

very good.”

so soon?

our shared humor momentarily eases my

thrilling,

feeling the weight of the night’s disappointment ease

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

the call, my

sip of the deep crimson wine, its

in warm hues from the

cast illuminates the high ceilings and ornate woodwork of my apartment.

with care, seems to mock my

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

leaves.

waste…” I

more force than necessary, I begin scraping the food into the trash. The soft gnocchi,

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

moments in our

this cathartic—albeit wasteful—process when an idea,

wine, hits me.

say aloud, the name acting like a beacon in the fog

true to his word. He’s

I miss him, and

the wine lending a

the familiar ring on the other end. What am

Karl’s voice breaks through my spiraling

plunge into my impromptu

softly. “You mean

place.

food to feed an army. Care to

between us, but it’s more contemplative than awkward. I can almost picture Karl,

trying to decipher the

know,” he starts, “It’s

to reveal. “Adam bailed on me. Again. And I just… I don’t want

this food,

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