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.”

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

just… moving

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

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

to end things, know that everyone

conflicting emotions. “I

voice is soft and comforting. “You deserve happiness. You deserve

someone’s priority.”

hint of mischief enters my voice as I change the

on a

on the other end. “Oh, it

very good.”

so soon?

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

was thrilling, but, well,

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

voice.

end the call,

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

drenched in warm hues

cast illuminates the high ceilings

seems

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

leaves.

waste…” I

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

delicate veal. Everything is discarded, just

of moments in our relationship, is heartbreakingly thrown

through this cathartic—albeit wasteful—process when an

wine, hits me.

name acting like a

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

And I miss him, and I’m

perhaps the wine lending a hand,

the other end. What am I

breaks through

deep breath, I plunge into my impromptu plan.

softly. “You mean the restaurant

I laugh, somewhat embarrassed. “I mean at my place. I

food to feed an

stretches between us, but it’s more contemplative

to decipher

starts, “It’s late. Is everything

reveal. “Adam bailed on me. Again.

food, to