Chapter 28: Wandering Minds

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{Abigail}

"Do I look alright?" I ask, flattening out my strapless blue dress that falls to just above my knees.

"Do I even have to answer that? You know what I'm going to say, because you always look stunning, Abigail." Patrick says, from across the room.

I blush, looking down at the ground.

It's Saturday, August 13, about 7:30 in the evening.

Patrick and I are going out to dinner with Pat's parents and my parents tonight at an upscale restaurant in Downtown Chicago.

Pat and I are both finishing getting ready, as we are leaving any minute now.

We are both standing on the main floor by the entrance, simply making sure we look presentable before we leave.

I take a quick glance in the mirror, admiring myself.

I straightened my hair tonight, applied a light layer of makeup, and threw on a fairly fancy light blue dress, as well as a pair of nude-colored wedges.

I smile, and am pretty pleased with the way I look.

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, and my eyes catch sight of the large rock on the fourth finger of my left hand.

I'm still not used to be it being there.

It catches the light often, and it's absolutely stunning.

I'm in love with it.

I look over at Patrick, who is standing in the entrance, struggling to put on his tie.

He looks down, fumbling with the knot at his neck.

I laugh, making my way over to him.

I gently place my hands on his tie, and he moves his hands away.

I fix his tie for him, making it look absolutely perfect.

I move my hands away, looking up at him.

He looks down at me, laughing.

"Thanks." He says, chuckling.

"Anytime." I say, looking up into his magnificent blue eyes.

I swear to God, those eyes catch me off-guard every single time I look at him.

His eyes are forever vivid, and something about them drives me insane.

In a good way.

"You look beautiful." He says, looking down at my body, from right in front of me.

His eyes return to meet mine once he's done scanning my body.

"As do you." I say, taking his hand.

He smiles, his dimples becoming prominent.

He places a kiss on my forehead, squeezing my hand as he does so.

"Shall we head out?" He asks, his voice quiet.

"We shall." I nod, grabbing my purse.

With that, the two of us leave the apartment, making our way down to the underground parking lot of Trump Tower.

My heels quietly clink against the pavement, as they aren't stilettos, but wedges.

The pleasant breeze blows my dress slightly, as well as my straightened hair.

Patrick and I hold hands, as we make our way across the underground parking lot.

We get into his car, and Patrick backs out of the parking spot, before we emerge onto the streets of Downtown Chicago.

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