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.”

so quickly after Karl. Are you sure it was

just…

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

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

know that everyone

conflicting emotions. “I

is soft and comforting.

someone’s priority.”

as I change the subject. “Hey, speaking

on a

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

very good.”

soon? That must’ve been…

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

was thrilling,

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

in her voice. “And remember,

call, my

take a sip of the deep crimson wine, its

warm hues from the strategically

the high ceilings and

seems

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

leaves.

I

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

the delicate veal. Everything is discarded, just like the promises Adam

symbolic of moments in our relationship,

wasteful—process when an

wine, hits me.

like a beacon in the

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

Adam. And I miss him, and I’m

bolder by the second, and perhaps the wine lending

on the other end. What am I even doing?

breaks

into my impromptu plan. “Hey, Karl. Fancy some Italian

“You mean

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

an

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

to decipher the

he starts, “It’s late. Is

bailed on me. Again. And I just… I

this food,

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