Chapter Thirty

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Adelaide's Point of View

I'm a complete mess. My hair is nappy, my shirt is wrinkled, and my face is flushed and probably looks terrible from crying. But as I snatch on a pair of jeans in record time, I realize that I couldn't possibly care less.

Justin thinks I'm beautiful. Me. And he wants to do this over, despite his commitment issues and previous reservations. Because I'm worth it.

I look a mess, but he's willing to be seen in public with me anyway. I'm not sure, but I think that speaks volumes regarding his feelings for me. The thought leaves me smiling as I meet him in the living room again, exactly where I left him.

The walk down the stairs is silent. He opens the door to his car and helps me inside, then quickly hurries to the driver's side to join me.

I still can't stop smiling.

Apparently, neither can he.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask.

"Somewhere quiet," he answers. "Where we can talk some more." He glances at me. "Is that okay?"

I nod quickly. I don't really care where we eat, so long as I have his company.

"Do you like oysters?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Crab legs?"

"Yes."

He pulls out his phone and makes a phone call. He places a food order, which leaves me confused. Does he want it to be ready when we get there? Will we even be eating there?

"What was that about?" I ask, my voice tentative. I'm nervous – an excited nervous which leaves my hands clammy and my thoughts racing. I think over everything in my head about two or three times before actually saying it.

"I thought we could get it to go. I have a place in mind...is that all right?"

He's obviously as nervous as I am, and that thought alone puts me at ease. I smile reassuringly.

"It's fine, Justin. I was just curious."

The rest of the drive is relatively silent. Soft music plays from his stereo, but I don't think either one of us is actually listening, both of us too absorbed in our thoughts. When we reach the restaurant he asks me to wait in the car while he dashes inside for the food.

With the food tucked safely in the back, we continue driving. I still have no idea where we're going, but I'm excited at all the prospects. Not knowing is kind of thrilling.

We reach the Bell Harbor Marina. Justin drives around for a bit before parking and pulling the food from the back. I step out of the car to follow him, and together we walk down the harbor.

The marina is beautiful at night. Most of the boats are vacant and dim, but the city of Seattle is lit up brilliantly in the background, its magnificent lights reflecting off the water. The sky still holds a slight orange tinge from the setting sun, a tinge which will probably disappear in a matter of minutes. But at this moment, the entire city seems to glow.

I have a suspicion of where we're eating now, a belief that's confirmed when Justin suddenly pauses and extends an arm to stop me.

"Do you care if we eat here?" he asks.

There are no tables. No seats, no servers—just the ground, a nearby steel rail, the water, and the city. But it's deserted – hardly anyone walks by this part at night – and furthermore, it's perfect.

I shake my head. Justin takes off his jacket and spreads it out for me to sit on, despite my protests. I'm actually wearing the perfect attire to sit on the ground, but he won't hear of it.

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