{Abigail}
The skyline is familiar through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The Chicago skyline.
God, that skyline has claimed my heart.
This city has, to be honest.
I watch it with fervent eyes, carefully eyeing each and every component.
The Sears Tower, the John Hancock Center... they all have such important roles in the skyline.
It's Sunday, July 17, about 7:30 in the evening.
Patrick and I got home from Buffalo this morning, around noon.
We got in at ORD, and drove straight to the apartment.
We have been hanging out all day, simply watching TV and eating popcorn.
Neither of us felt like doing anything this afternoon, so we didn't.
We just had a lazy day inside.
It has been really nice.
However, Patrick insisted that we go out later this evening, and he suggested the Chicago River Night Cruise.
I, of course, agreed.
I have been on that cruise plenty of times before, but I could never do it enough times.
It's gorgeous, especially at night.
The cruise is at 7:45, so Patrick and I are just getting ready to leave now.
I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the apartment, admiring the skyline.
The sun is getting ready to set, and being so high up, I can see it as it makes its way slowly down the horizon.
About three-quarters of it is still above the horizon, and the rest of it appears to be below the lake.
I am shaken out of my thoughts by Patrick coming down the stairs.
"You ready to go, love?" He asks, as he takes his first step onto the main floor of the apartment.
I turn around, smiling.
"Definitely." I say, grabbing my purse from where I had set it down on the table, a few minutes ago.
Patrick is wearing a dark blue v-neck with grey shorts, and a backwards flat-brim Chicago Cubs hat.
I have decided on a white tank top, with a leather jacket over top, leaving the zipper undone, as well as a pair of skinny jeans, and flats.
Patrick extends his hand out, and I take his hand.
The two of us make our way out of the apartment, and down eighty-four floors through the elevator.
The docks where the night cruises run out of, are literally right outside of Trump Tower, so it takes about a minute to walk to them.
Patrick and I make our way down the main entrance steps of Trump Tower, and over to the dock where the boats all bob lazily in the river.
It's Sunday night, so it's fairly quiet in Downtown Chicago, but there are still a few people out and about walking.
The sun has officially set, and it is really starting to get dark out.
The streets and sidewalks are illuminated by large streetlights, however.
Patrick and I make our way down to the dock, where we pay for two tickets, and then we wait in line for the boat to start boarding.
I notice that there are no other people in line for the night cruise, which is somewhat odd.
"There is like no one else here." I say, looking around.
"I know. Must be because it's Sunday night." Patrick shrugs.
I nod, agreeing with him.
I guess it really quiets down on Sunday nights.
Within a few minutes, the boat has started boarding, and still, there are no other people here.
This means one thing:
Patrick and I have the entire cruise to ourselves.
I bite my lip, smiling as we take our seats at the back of the boat.
The hostess greets us, and laughs at the number of people.
"Well, hello you two! I guess it's just you guys tonight." She laughs, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
"I guess so." I reply, laughing.
"Sweet." She shrugs, laughing.
After she tells us some brief safety rules such as not jumping off the boat or anything, the cruise starts up.
The boat starts by making its way down the river, past Trump Tower.
The night lights of the city reflect in the rippling river below.
They are blurred in the reflection, and are still so beautiful.
The boat is quiet, and the hostess keeps her talking to a minimal, as I'm pretty sure she has already figured out that we are not tourists to the city of Chicago.
She probably recognized Patrick, considering one of the things the hostesses usually say when they pass Trump Tower, is that if you bought a place there, your neighbors would be Derrick Rose of the Chicago Bulls, and Patrick Kane of the Chicago Blackhawks.
Patrick holds my hand in his as we continue down the river, now making our way again, past Trump Tower (in the opposite direction, of course), and out past The Regatta Chicago, towards Lake Michigan.
Right by where Jonathan's apartment is, is where the Chicago River meets Lake Michigan, and leads into open lake water.
As we pass The Regatta, I notice that the light in Jonathan's apartment is on.
"Hey look, Jonny must be home!" I laugh, pointing up to Jonathan's apartment.
Patrick snorts.
"He's probably working out or something." He rolls his eyes, playfully.
I laugh, shaking my head.
Those two boys are something else, I will say that much.
After a few minutes, the boat moves into Lake Michigan, and does a 180 degree turn, offering a panoramic view of Downtown Chicago.
Patrick gets up, leading me to the side of the boat, where we lean against the railing, looking out at the city.
"Wow." I say, smiling.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Patrick asks, his eyes locked on the skyline.
The lights reflect in the lake below us, and above us, the moon sits in the sky.
By now, it is only half-lit, as it is a third-quarter, but it is still giving off enough light to illuminate the city slightly.
"Stunning." I agree, nodding.
I'm in awe at the buildings in front of me.
I'm in a state of grace right now.
I keep my eyes locked on the skyline in front of us, their lights shimmering in the lake.
God, this is beautiful.
The boat is quiet and still, and because only Patrick and I are on this night cruise, everything is calm.
My eyes scan the skyline, and I find a building located right beside The Regatta.
It's the Lakeshore East Real-Estate building.
I never appreciated that building so much, until now.
Honestly, it looks more gorgeous than I've ever seen it, for some reason.
"Patrick, look at Lakeshore Real-Estate Building! I never knew it was this beautiful from the water." I giggle, still staring at the building.
The lights are bright and they almost seem to be twinkling.
He doesn't reply.
"Patrick?" I say, looking to my left.
He's not there.
He was there literally two seconds ago.
Puzzled, I turn around, and see Patrick kneeling down.
On one knee.
He holds a small black box in his hand, and a sudden shiny glare reflects in my eyes.
Before I can say or do anything, Patrick speaks.
"Abigail Quinn, will you marry me?"