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.”

there it is,” Chloe murmurs. “You moved on so

just… moving

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

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

to end things, know that everyone would

conflicting emotions. “I need to

soft and comforting. “You

someone’s priority.”

voice as I change the subject.

be on a

blushing on the other

very good.”

Chloe! Leaving so soon? That

comfort of our shared humor momentarily eases my pain.

date was thrilling, but,

say, feeling the weight

in her voice. “And

end the call,

wine, its flavor, though rich, now tainted by

room is drenched in warm hues

ceilings and ornate woodwork of

care, seems to mock my

I swipe at a plate of caprese salad,

leaves.

waste…” I

the food into the trash.

veal. Everything is discarded, just like the

symbolic of moments in our relationship, is heartbreakingly

cathartic—albeit wasteful—process when an

wine, hits me.

say aloud, the name acting like a beacon in the fog of my

He’s an as shole,

I

perhaps the wine lending a hand, I dial Karl’s number.

the other end. What am

voice breaks through my spiraling

into my

“You

mean at my place.

an

more contemplative than awkward. I

trying to decipher

“It’s late.

“Adam bailed on

this food, to go to

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