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.”

on so quickly

not just…

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

okay,” she concedes. “But look, Abby, he’s a workaholic. He’s

to end things, know

mind whirls with conflicting emotions. “I need to cool off, think

Chloe’s voice is soft and comforting. “You

someone’s priority.”

of mischief enters my voice as I change the subject. “Hey, speaking

to be on a

imagine her blushing on the other end.

very good.”

Leaving so soon?

comfort of our shared humor momentarily

was thrilling,

Chlo,” I say, feeling the weight of the

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

end the call, my

of the deep crimson wine, its flavor,

warm hues from the

cast illuminates the high ceilings

chosen with care, seems to mock

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

leaves.

I

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

discarded, just like the promises

our relationship,

wasteful—process when an idea,

wine, hits me.

acting like a beacon in the fog of my

word. He’s an

I miss him,

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

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

voice breaks through my

my

chuckles softly. “You

my place. I cooked up a

feed an army. Care to

it’s more contemplative

trying to decipher

know,” he starts, “It’s late. Is

lip, debating how much to reveal. “Adam bailed on me. Again. And

this food, to go to

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