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

just… moving

lip, fighting the truth in her words. “Adam’s

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

to end things, know that everyone

with conflicting emotions. “I need to cool off,

comforting. “You

someone’s priority.”

enters my voice as I change the

be on

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

very good.”

Leaving so soon? That

in. The comfort of our shared humor momentarily eases my pain.

was thrilling, but, well,

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

voice. “And remember, you’re

call,

of the deep crimson wine, its flavor, though

dining room is drenched in warm hues from the strategically placed

glow they cast illuminates the high ceilings and ornate woodwork

chosen with care, seems to mock my

fit of fury, I swipe at a plate of caprese salad, sending cherry tomatoes rolling and sca

leaves.

I

begin scraping the

discarded, just like the

moments in our relationship, is

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

wine, hits me.

the name acting like a beacon in the fog of my

to his word. He’s an

I

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

ring on the other end. What am I even doing? What would

voice breaks through

my impromptu plan. “Hey, Karl. Fancy

softly. “You mean the restaurant

embarrassed. “I mean at my place.

food to feed an

contemplative than awkward. I can

to decipher the unexpected

know,” he starts, “It’s late.

bite my lip, debating how much to reveal. “Adam bailed on me. Again. And I just… I don’t want

all this food,