The way Cutter spoke about things, the gruff and realistic words, reassured her more than any promises of fluff and forever could have done. He wasn't romanticizing anything, wasn't looking at it through any rose-tinted lens, and that was why she could believe. She'd lived so long in a bubble of protection from reality that there were few things she recognized and appreciated so much as real, honest truths - pleasant or not. To her way of thinking, Cutter was the walking embodiment of those things and though she'd faltered, it only took moments alone with him to remind her of that trust. "No way he's telling me no on this, either," Adelaide said. And because she'd just recently come to the conclusion that she'd be damned if she turned into the walking dead before she got to enjoy him, she added, "And I ain't going anywhere, either."
When he said she was stuck with him Addie smiled, dimple breaking out. She wanted nothing more just then than to go back to reveling in the feeling that he was hers. Though they'd danced around the words, the technicalities, they didn't really need them. The belonging was plain as day to anyone who saw them, anyway. When he kissed her that way there was just the barest split second where she held on, tensed up with her nerves and her reservations, left over from so many years of doing this all the wrong way. And just as quickly it all evaporated and she was drawn so easily in, twining her fingers together behind his neck and letting go.