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.”

“You moved on so quickly after

just… moving

bite my lip, fighting the truth in her

a workaholic. He’s not treating

to end things, know that everyone

conflicting emotions. “I need to

and comforting. “You

someone’s priority.”

enters my voice as I change the subject.

on a date

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

very good.”

Leaving so soon? That

our shared humor momentarily eases

thrilling,

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

in her voice. “And remember, you’re not

call, my emotions

sip of the deep crimson wine, its

in warm hues from the strategically placed

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

with care, seems to

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

leaves.

I

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

delicate veal. Everything is discarded, just like the

of moments in our relationship, is

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

wine, hits me.

acting like a beacon in

different—reliable, true to his word. He’s an as shole, but in those ways, he’s

And I miss him, and

the wine lending a hand, I

on the other end. What

breaks through my spiraling

my impromptu plan. “Hey, Karl. Fancy

“You mean

embarrassed. “I mean at my place. I cooked up a storm,

feed an

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

trying to

“It’s

much to reveal. “Adam bailed on me. Again. And I just… I

all this food, to

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