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.”

moved on so quickly after Karl. Are

just… moving

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

“But look, Abby, he’s a workaholic. He’s not

to end things, know that

conflicting emotions. “I need to cool off, think things

comforting. “You

someone’s priority.”

as I change the subject. “Hey, speaking of priorities, weren’t

to be on a date

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

very good.”

Chloe! Leaving so soon? That must’ve been…

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

thrilling, but, well,

there, Chlo,” I say, feeling the weight of

voice. “And remember, you’re

end the call, my

wine, its flavor, though rich, now tainted by

is drenched in warm hues from the

they cast illuminates the high ceilings and ornate woodwork of

care, seems to mock

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

leaves.

I

scraping the food into the trash.

is discarded, just like the promises

of moments in our relationship, is heartbreakingly

wasteful—process when an idea, perhaps

wine, hits me.

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

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

And I miss him, and I’m

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

other end. What

Karl’s voice breaks through

a deep breath, I plunge into my

chuckles softly. “You mean

laugh, somewhat embarrassed. “I mean at my place. I cooked up a storm, and now I

to feed an

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

trying to decipher

know,” he starts, “It’s

bite my lip, debating how much to reveal. “Adam bailed on me. Again. And I just… I

all this food, to