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

not just… moving

the truth in her words. “Adam’s not a

he’s a workaholic. He’s

to end things, know that everyone would

whirls with conflicting emotions. “I need

and comforting. “You deserve

someone’s priority.”

of mischief enters my voice as I

be on a

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

very good.”

soon? That must’ve

join in. The comfort of our shared humor

date was thrilling, but,

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

evident in her voice. “And remember,

end the call,

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

in warm hues from the strategically placed

high ceilings and

with care, seems to mock my

swipe at a plate of caprese salad, sending

leaves.

waste…” I

the food into the trash. The

veal. Everything is discarded,

symbolic of moments in our

wasteful—process when an idea, perhaps

wine, hits me.

like

had always been different—reliable, true to his word. He’s

And I miss him, and I’m

the wine lending a hand, I

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

voice breaks through my spiraling

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

chuckles softly. “You mean the restaurant

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

feed an army. Care

but it’s more contemplative than awkward.

trying to

starts, “It’s late. Is

debating how much to reveal. “Adam bailed

food, to go to

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