All Your Perfects

by Colleen Hoover

  She’s due with her third child in a few weeks. She’s holding a paper plate with one hand and holding her lower back with the other. She rolls her eyes at the sight of us. “I can’t imagine what it must be like when you’re in private if you two are this handsy in public.” She throws the plate in the trash can and heads back toward the living room. “You’re probably that annoyingly perfect couple who has sex twice a day.”

  When the door to the kitchen closes, we’re alone and the song is over and Graham is just staring at me. I know his sister’s comment has made him think about my affection. I can tell he wants to ask me why I love his touch so much in public, but recoil from it in private.

  He doesn’t say anything about it, though. He hands me a towel to dry my hands. “You ready to go home?”

  I nod, but I also feel it start to happen. The nerves building in my stomach. The worry that being so affectionate with him at his mother’s will make him think I want his affection at the house.

  It makes me feel like the worst wife in the world. I don’t do this because I don’t love him. But maybe if I could somehow love him better, I wouldn’t do this.

  Even knowing how unfair I am to him doesn’t stop me from lying to him on our way home. “I feel like I’m getting a migraine,” I say, pressing my forehead to the passenger window of our car.

  When we make it home, Graham tells me to go to bed and get some rest. Five minutes later, he brings me a glass of water and some aspirin. He turns out my lamp and leaves the room and I cry because I hate what I’ve turned this marriage into.

  My husband’s heart is my saving grace, but his physical touch has become my enemy.

  Chapter Eleven

  * * *

  Then

  I can feel the heat of his body next to me. I like that the sun is up and he’s still here.

  I feel Graham move before I open my eyes. His hand finds mine beneath my pillow and he threads our fingers together. “Good morning.”

  When I open my eyes, I’m smiling. He lifts his other arm and brushes his thumb across my cheek. “What’d I miss while you were asleep? Did you dream?”

  I think that might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. “I had kind of a strange dream. You were in it.”

  He perks up, releasing my hand and lifting onto his elbow. “Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

  “I had a dream that you showed up here in head-to-toe scuba gear. And you told me to put my scuba gear on because we were going to swim with sharks. I told you I was scared of sharks and you said, ‘But Quinn. These sharks are actually cats!’ And then I said, ‘But I’m scared of the ocean.’ And you said, ‘But Quinn. This ocean is actually a park.’ ”

  Graham laughs. “What happened next?”

  “I put on my scuba gear, of course. But you didn’t take me to an ocean or a park. You took me to meet your mother. And I was so embarrassed and so mad at you because I was wearing a scuba-diving suit at her dinner table.”

  Graham falls onto his back with laughter. “Quinn, that is the best dream in the history of dreams.”

  His reaction makes me want to tell him every dream I ever have for the rest of my life.

  I like that he rolls toward me and looks at me like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. He leans forward and presses his mouth to mine. I want to stay in bed with him all day, but he pulls away and says, “I’m hungry. You got anything to eat?”

  I nod, but before he can climb out of bed, I pull him back and press my lips against his cheek. “I like you, Graham.” I roll off him and head to my bathroom.

  He calls out after me. “Of course you like me, Quinn! I’m your soul mate!”

  I laugh as I close the door to the bathroom. And then I want to scream when I look in the mirror. Holy shit. I have mascara smeared everywhere. A pimple that appeared on my forehead overnight. My hair is a mess, but not in that sexy, come-hither way. It’s just a mess. Like a rat slept in it all night.

  I groan and then yell, “I’m taking a shower!”

  Graham yells back from the kitchen. “I’m looking for food!”

  I doubt he finds much. I don’t keep a lot of groceries at my house because I rarely cook since I live alone.

  I step into the shower. I have no idea if he’s staying after breakfast, but while I shower, I make sure to pay special attention to certain areas just in case.

  I’ve been in the shower all of three minutes when I hear the bathroom door open.

  “You don’t have anything to eat.”

  The sound of his voice in my bathroom surprises me so much, I almost slip and fall. I grip the shower bar and steady myself, but immediately let go of the bar and cover my breasts when I see the shower curtain move.

  Graham peeks his head inside the shower. He looks straight at my face and nowhere else, but I’m still doing everything I can to shield myself.

  “You have absolutely no food. Crackers and a stale box of cereal.” He says this like it’s not at all unusual that he’s looking at me naked. “Want me to go grab breakfast?”

  “Um . . . okay.” I’m wide-eyed, still shocked from his confident intrusion.

  Graham grins, pulling his bottom lip in with his teeth. His eyes begin to slowly trail down my body. “My God, Quinn,” he whispers. He closes the shower curtain and says, “I’ll be back in a little while.” Right before he walks out of my bathroom I hear him whisper, “Fuck.”

  I can’t help but smile. I love how that just made me feel.

  I turn back around and face the shower spray as I close my eyes and let the warm water beat down on my face. I can’t figure Graham out. He’s just the right amount of confident and cocky. But he balances that out with his reverent side. He’s funny and smart and he comes on way too strong, but it all feels genuine.

  Genuine.

  If I had to describe him in one word, that would be it.

  It surprises me because I never thought of Ethan as genuine. There was always a part of me that felt his seeming perfection was part of an act. Like he had been taught how to say all the right things but it wasn’t inherent with him. It was as if he studied how to be the version of himself he presented to everyone.

  But with Graham, I have a feeling he’s been who he is all his life.

  I wonder if I’ll learn to trust him. After what I went through with Ethan, I’ve felt like that would never happen.

  When I’m finished in the shower, I dry off and pull on a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. I have no idea if Graham has intentions of hanging out today, but until I find that out, I’ll be dressing for comfort.

  When I walk back into the bedroom, I grab my phone off the nightstand and notice several missed texts.

  I saved my contact in your phone. This is Graham. Your soul mate.

  What do you want for breakfast?

  McDonald’s? Starbucks? Donuts?

  Are you still in the shower?

  Do you like coffee?

  I can’t stop thinking about you in the shower.

  Okay, then. I’ll get bagels.

  I’m in my bedroom hanging up laundry when I hear Graham walk through the front door. I walk to the living room and he’s at the table, laying out breakfast. A lot of breakfast.

  “You didn’t specify what you wanted, so I got everything.”

  My eyes scan the box of donuts, the McDonald’s, the Chick-fil-A. He even got bagels. And Starbucks. “Are you trying to replicate the breakfast scene from Pretty Woman when Richard Gere orders everything off the menu?” I smile and take a seat at the table.

  He frowns. “You mean this has been done before?”

  I take a bite of a glazed donut. “Yep. You’re gonna have to be more original if you want to impress me.”

  He sits down across from me and pulls the lid off a Starbucks cup. He licks the whipped cream. “I guess I’ll have to cancel the white limo that’s supposed to pull up to your fire escape this afternoon.”

  I laugh. “Thank you fo
r breakfast.”

  He leans back in his seat, placing the lid back on his coffee. “What are your plans today?”

  I shrug. “It’s Saturday. I’m off work.”

  “I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

  “I write for an advertising firm downtown. Nothing impressive.”

  “Nothing about you is unimpressive, Quinn.”

  I ignore his compliment. “What about you?”

  “Nothing impressive. I’m an accountant for a company downtown.”

  “A math guy, huh?”

  “My first choice was an astronaut, but the idea of leaving the earth’s atmosphere is kind of terrifying. Numbers don’t really pose a threat to my life, so I went with that.” He opens one of the bags and pulls out a biscuit. “I think we should have sex tonight.” He takes a bite of the biscuit. “All night,” he says with a mouthful.

  I almost choke on the bite I just swallowed. I pull the extra coffee toward me and take a sip. “You do, huh? What’s so different about tonight than last night?”

  He tears off a piece of the biscuit and pops it into his mouth. “I was being polite last night.”

  “So your politeness is just a façade?”

  “No, I really am a decent guy. But I’m also extremely attracted to you and want to see you naked again.” He smiles at me. It’s a shy smile and it’s so cute, it makes me smile.

  “Some men get cheated on and they become revengeful. You get cheated on and become brutally honest.”

  He laughs, but he doesn’t bring up the potential sex again. We both eat in silence for a minute and then he says, “What’d you do with your engagement ring?”

  “I mailed it to Ethan’s mother.”

  “What’d you do with the one I left here?”

  A reserved smile creeps across my lips. “I kept it. Sometimes I wear it. It’s pretty.”

  He watches me for a moment and then he says, “You want to know what I kept?”

  I nod.

  “Our fortunes.”

  It takes me a moment before I realize what he’s talking about. “From the Chinese food and infidelity?”

  “Yep.”

  “You kept those?”

  “Sure did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.” He looks down at his coffee and moves the cup in small circles. “If you saw what was on the back of them, you wouldn’t be questioning it.”

  I lean back in my seat and eye him suspiciously. Ethan and I got those fortune cookies all the time. I know exactly what’s on the back of them because I always thought it was odd. Most fortunes have a set of numbers, but this place only puts a single number on the fortunes. “The backs of those fortune cookies just have a number on them.”

  “Yep.” He has a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

  I tilt my head. “What? Did they have the same number or something?”

  He looks at me seriously. “The number eight.”

  I hold his stare and think about that for a few seconds. Last night he asked me the date. August 8.

  8/8.

  The day we reconnected.

  “Are you serious?”

  Graham holds his resolve for a moment, but then he relaxes and lets out a laugh. “I’m kidding. Yours had a seven on the back of it and mine had like a five or something.” He stands up and takes his trash to the kitchen. “I kept them because I’m a neat freak and I didn’t like littering on the floor of the hallway. I forgot they were in my pocket until I got home that night.”

  I wonder how much of that is true. “Do you really still have them, though?”

  He steps on the trash can lever and the lid pops open. “Of course.” He walks back to the table and pulls me out of my chair. He slides his arms around my waist and kisses me. It’s a sweet kiss and he tastes like caramel and sugar. He moves his mouth to my cheek and kisses it, then pulls me against his chest. “You know I’m only teasing you, right? I don’t actually believe we’ll spend the rest of our lives together. Yet.”

  I kind of like his teasing. A lot. I open my mouth to respond to him, but his phone rings. He holds up a finger and pulls it out of his pocket, then immediately answers it. “Hey, beautiful,” he says. He covers his phone and whispers, “It’s my mother. Don’t freak out.”

  I laugh and leave him to his phone call while I walk to the table to gather all the breakfast he brought. I don’t think it’ll all fit in the fridge.

  “Not much,” Graham says. “Is Dad golfing today?” I watch him chat with his mother. He does it with such ease. When I chat with my mother, I’m tense and on edge and rolling my eyes through most of the conversation. “Yeah, dinner sounds good. Can I bring a date?” He covers his phone and looks at me. “Get your scuba gear ready, Quinn.”

  I don’t know whether to laugh at his joke or start freaking out. I don’t even know the guy’s last name yet. I don’t want to meet his parents. I just mouth, “No” very firmly.

  He winks at me. “Her name is Quinn,” he says, answering his mother’s question. He’s watching me while he continues the conversation. “Yeah, it’s pretty serious. Been seeing her for a while now.”

  I roll my eyes at his lies. He’s unrelenting.

  “Hold on, I’ll ask her.” He doesn’t cover his phone this time. Actually, he yells louder than he needs to because we’re just a few feet apart. “Babe! Do you want pie or cobbler for dessert?”

  I step closer to him so he can hear the seriousness in my voice. “We haven’t even been on a date yet,” I whisper. “I don’t want to meet your mother, Graham.”

  He covers his phone this time and motions at the table. “We just had like five dates,” he whispers. “Chick-fil-A, McDonald’s, donuts, Starbucks . . .” He pulls his phone back to his ear. “She prefers pie. We’ll see you around six?” There’s a pause. “Okay. Love you, too.”

  He ends the call and slides the phone into his pocket. I’m glaring at him, but it doesn’t last long because he walks up to me and tickles me until I laugh. Then he pulls me against him. “Don’t worry, Quinn. Once you taste her cooking, you won’t ever want to leave.”

  I sigh heavily. “You are nothing like I expected.”

  He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Is that good or bad?”

  “I honestly have no idea.”

  Chapter Twelve

  * * *

  Now

  When I pull onto Caroline’s street, I see Graham’s car parked in her driveway. But it looks like other than his sister and her husband, we’re the only ones here. I’m relieved by that.

  Caroline had her baby boy yesterday morning. A home birth. It’s the first boy born in Graham’s family since him, actually.

  Caroline is the only sister of Graham’s who lives in Connecticut. Tabitha lives in Chicago with her wife. Ainsley is a lawyer and lives all over. She travels almost as much as Ava and Reid do. Sometimes I’m a little envious of their carefree lifestyles, but I’ve always had other priorities.

  Graham and I are very involved in the lives of Caroline’s two daughters. Outside of the time we spend with them on Sundays, we also occasionally take them for outings or to the movies to give Caroline and her husband time alone. I suspect with the birth of their son, we’ll be spending even more time with the girls.

  I love watching Graham with them. He’s playful and loves to make them laugh. But he’s also very invested in their mental health and well-being. He answers every “but why” question with patience and honesty. And even though they’re only three and five, he treats them as equals. Caroline jokes that when they return home after spending time at our house, they start every sentence with, “But Uncle Graham said . . .”

  I love the relationship he has with his nieces so much, seeing him with his baby nephew makes me even more excited to see him as an uncle. I do occasionally let the thoughts get to me in moments like this about what a great father he would make, but I refuse to let our depressing situation dampen Graham’s experience with his family. So, I plaster on
my happy face and make sure to never allow the sadness to show.

  I practice smiling in my rearview mirror. Smiling used to come naturally to me, but almost every smile that appears on my face nowadays is a façade.

  When I reach the front door, I don’t know whether to ring the bell or just walk in. If the baby or Caroline are sleeping, I’d feel terrible for waking them up. I push open the door and the front of the house is quiet. No one is seated in the living room, although there are unwrapped gifts lining the sofa. I walk to the living room and place Graham’s and my gift on the coffee table next to the couch.

  I make my way through a quiet kitchen and toward the den where Caroline and her family spend most of their time. It was an add-on they completed right after Gwenn was born. Half of the room serves as a living room and the other half serves as a playroom for the girls.

  I’m almost to the den, but I pause just outside the door when I see Graham. His back is to me and he’s standing near the couch, holding his new nephew. He’s swaying from side to side with the newborn cocooned in a blanket in his arms. I suppose if our situation were different, this would be a moment where I would have nothing but pure adoration for my husband—watching him hold his newborn nephew. Instead, I ache inside. It makes me question the thoughts that might be going through his head right now. Does a small part of him resent that I haven’t been able to create a moment like this for him?

  No one can see me from where I’m standing since Graham has his back to me and I’m out of the line of sight of his sister, who is probably seated on the sofa. I hear her voice when she says, “You’re such a natural.”

  I watch Graham’s reaction to her words, but he has none. He just continues staring down at his nephew.

  And then Caroline says something that makes me grip the wall behind me. “You would make such a good father, Graham.” Her words fly through the air and reach me all the way in the next room.

  I’m convinced she wouldn’t have said what she said if she knew I could hear her. I wait for Graham’s response, curious if he’ll even have one.