All Your Perfects

by Colleen Hoover

  Oh.

  Wow. I’m breathless.

  Graham has said so many sweet things to me, but this wasn’t sweet. This was pure poetry. This was beyond an expression of his intelligence, because I know he’s incredibly smart. This was sacrificial. He gave me purpose. He made me incredibly relevant—crucial—to him, when I’ve never felt relevant, vital, or crucial to anyone else before. “I love you so much, Graham Wells.” It’s all I can say because I can’t compete with what he just said. I don’t even try.

  “Do you love me enough to marry me?”

  I lift off his arm and sit up straight, still facing him.

  Did he seriously just ask me that?

  It was so spontaneous. He probably hasn’t even thought it through. He’s still smiling but in a few seconds I think he’s probably going to laugh because he accidentally blurted it out without even thinking. He doesn’t even have a ring, which proves it was an accident.

  “Graham . . .”

  He slips his hand under the blanket. When he pulls his hand back out, he’s holding a ring. No box, no gift wrap, no pretenses. It’s just a ring. A ring he’s been carrying in his pocket for a moment he obviously did think through.

  I bring my hands up to my mouth. They’re shaking because I wasn’t expecting this and I’m speechless and I’m scared I won’t be able to answer him out loud because everything is caught in my throat but I somehow still whisper the words, “Oh my God.”

  Graham pulls my left hand from my mouth and he holds the ring near my ring finger, but he doesn’t attempt to slip it on. Instead, he dips his head to bring my focus back to him. When our eyes meet, he’s looking at me with all the clarity and hope in the world. “Be my wife, Quinn. Weather the Category 5 moments with me.”

  I’m nodding before he’s even finished speaking. I’m nodding, because if I try to say yes, I’ll start crying. I can’t even believe he somehow made this perfect weekend even better.

  As soon as I start nodding, he laughs with a heavy sigh of relief. And when he slips the ring on my finger, he bites his lip because he doesn’t want me to see that he’s getting choked up, too. “I didn’t know what ring to get you,” he says, looking back up at me. “But when the jeweler told me that the wedding ring symbolizes an endless loop without a beginning, middle, or end, I didn’t want to break up that endless loop with diamonds. I hope you like it.”

  The ring is a delicate, thin gold band with no stones. It’s not a reflection of how much money Graham has or doesn’t have. It’s a reflection of how long he believes our love will last. An eternity.

  “It’s perfect, Graham.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  * * *

  Now

  “. . . cervical ectopic pregnancy,” she says. “Very rare. In fact, the chances of a woman experiencing this type of ectopic pregnancy are less than one percent.”

  Graham squeezes my hand. I lay back in the hospital bed, wanting nothing more than for the doctor to leave the room so I can go back to sleep. The medicine has me so drowsy, it’s hard to pay attention to everything she’s saying. I know I don’t have to though, because Graham is focused on every word that comes out of her mouth. “Bed rest for two weeks,” is the last thing I hear her say before I close my eyes. I know Graham is the one who loves math, but I feel like I’m going to be obsessing over that less than one percent. The chances of me getting pregnant after so many years of trying were greater than the chances of a pregnancy resulting in a cervical ectopic abruption.

  “What was the cause?” Graham asks.

  “More than likely the endometriosis,” she replies. She goes into a little more detail, but I tune her out. I tilt my head toward Graham and open my eyes. He’s staring at the doctor, listening to her response. But I can see the worry in him. His right hand is covering his mouth, his left hand still has a grip on mine.

  “Could . . .” He glances down at me and there is so much worry in his eyes. “Could stress have caused the miscarriage?”

  “Miscarriage was inevitable with this type of pregnancy,” she says. “Nothing could have been done to prolong it. It ruptured because ectopic pregnancies aren’t viable.”

  My miscarriage happened nineteen hours ago. It isn’t until this moment that I realize Graham has spent the last nineteen hours thinking he was somehow responsible. He’s been afraid that the stress from our fight led to this.

  After the doctor leaves the room, I brush my thumb across his hand. It’s a small gesture, and one that is very hard to make due to the amount of anger I still hold, but one he notices immediately. “You have a lot to feel guilty for, but my miscarriage is not one of them.”

  Graham stares at me a moment with vacant eyes and a broken soul. Then he releases my hand and walks out of the room. He doesn’t come back for half an hour, but it looks like he’s been crying.

  He’s cried a few times during our marriage. I’ve never actually seen him cry until yesterday, but I’ve seen him in the aftermath.

  Graham spends the next few hours making sure I’m comfortable. My mother comes to visit, but I pretend to be asleep. Ava calls, but I tell Graham to tell her I’m asleep. I spend most of the day and night trying not to think about everything that’s happening, but every time I close my eyes I find myself wishing I would have just known. Even if the pregnancy would have ended the same way, I’m angry with myself for not paying more attention to my body so I could have enjoyed it while it lasted. If I had paid more attention, I would have suspected I was pregnant. I would have taken a test. It would have been positive. And then, just once, Graham and I would have known what it felt like to be parents. Even if it would have been a fleeting feeling.

  It’s a little morbid that I would go through this entire thing again if I could have just known I was pregnant for one single day. After so many years of trying, it seems cruel that our payoff was a miscarriage followed by a hysterectomy without the cushion of feeling like parents, if even for a moment.

  The entire ordeal has been unfair and painful. More so than my recovery will be. Because of the rupture and the hemorrhaging, the doctors had to perform an emergency abdominal hysterectomy, rather than a vaginal one. Which means a longer recovery time. I’ll likely be in the hospital another day or two before I’ll be discharged. Then I’ll be confined to our bed for two weeks.

  Everything feels so unfinished between us. We hadn’t resolved anything before the miscarriage and now it just feels like the decision we were about to make has been put on hold. Because I’m in no place to discuss the future of our marriage right now. It’ll probably be weeks before things are back to normal.

  As normal as things can get without a uterus.

  “You can’t sleep?” Graham asks. He hasn’t left the hospital all day. He only left the room earlier for half an hour, but then he returned and has been alternating between the couch and the chair next to my bed. Right now he’s in the chair, seated on the edge of it, waiting for me to speak. He looks exhausted, but I know Graham and he isn’t going anywhere until I do. “Do you want something to drink?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not thirsty.” The only light on in the room is the one behind my bed and it makes it look like Graham is in a spotlight on a lonely stage.

  His need to console me is warring with his awareness of the tension that’s been between us for so long. But he fights the tension and reaches for the rail. “Do you mind if I lay with you?” He already has the rail down and is crawling into the bed with me when I shake my head. He’s careful to turn me so that my IV doesn’t pull. He fits himself into less than half the bed next to me and slips a hand under my head, sacrificing his comfort for mine. He kisses me on the back of my head. Part of me wasn’t sure I wanted him in the bed with me, but I soon realize that falling asleep in our shared sadness is somehow more comforting than falling asleep alone.

  * * *

  “I’m flying home,” Ava blurts out, before I even have the chance to say hello.

  “No you aren’t. I’m fine.�
��

  “Quinn, I’m your sister. I want to come stay with you.”

  “No,” I repeat. “I’ll be fine. You’re pregnant. The last thing you need is to spend all day on an airplane.”

  She sighs heavily.

  “Besides,” I add. “I’m thinking about coming to visit you, instead.” It’s a lie. I haven’t thought about it until this very moment. But my impending two weeks on bed rest makes me realize how much I’ll need to put space between our house and myself when I’m finally recovered.

  “Really? Can you? When do you think you’ll be released to fly?”

  “I’ll ask the doctor when she discharges me.”

  “Please don’t say that if you aren’t serious.”

  “I am serious. I think it’ll do me some good.”

  “What about Graham? Won’t he be using all his vacation time during your recovery?”

  I don’t talk about my marriage troubles to anyone. Not even Ava. “I want to come alone,” I say. I don’t elaborate. I haven’t told her Graham quit his job and I didn’t tell her about him kissing another woman. But by the pause Ava gives me, I can tell she knows something is up. I’ll wait to tell her about everything until I actually see her in person.

  “Okay,” she says. “Talk to your doctor and let me know a date.”

  “Okay. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  After I end the call, I look up from the hospital bed to see Graham standing in the doorway. I wait for him to tell me it’s not a good idea to plan travel after just having surgery. Instead, he just looks down at the coffee cup in his hand. “You’re going to visit Ava?”

  He doesn’t say we. Part of me feels guilty. But surely he understands that I need space.

  “Not until I get cleared to fly. But yeah. I need to see her.”

  He doesn’t look up from his cup. He just nods a little and says, “Are you coming back?”

  “Of course.”

  Of course.

  I don’t say it with a lot of conviction, but there’s enough in my voice to assure him that this isn’t a separation. It’s just a break.

  He swallows heavily. “How long will you be gone?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a couple of weeks.”

  Graham nods and then takes a sip from his cup while kicking off the door. “We have some airline miles on our card. Let me know when you want to leave and I’ll book your flight.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  * * *

  Then

  I don’t remember Ethan’s and my wedding plans being this stressful.

  That might have been because I let my mother take the reins back then and had very little to do with the planning. But this is different. I want Graham and I to decide on what flavor of cake we want. I want Graham and I to decide who to invite and where it should be and what time of day we want to commit to each other for the rest of our lives. But my mother won’t stop making decisions that I don’t want her to make, no matter how many times I ask her to stop.

  “I just want your day to be perfect, Quinn,” she says.

  “Graham can’t afford these things, so I’m only trying to help out,” she says.

  “Don’t forget to have him sign a prenup,” she says.

  “You never know if your stepfather will leave you an inheritance,” she says. “You need to protect your assets.”

  She says things that make me feel like marriage is nothing more than a loan to her, rather than a commitment of love. She’s brought up the idea of a prenuptial agreement so many times, she forgets that as it stands, I have no assets to protect. Besides, I know Graham isn’t marrying me for the money or property my stepfather may or may not leave me one day. Graham would marry me even if I were up to my eyeballs in debt.

  I feel myself starting to resent the whole idea of a lavish wedding. I would vent my frustration to Graham, but if I did that, I’d have to tell him why my mother is frustrating me. The last thing I want to do is share with Graham all the underhanded things my mother says about him.

  I look down at my phone as another text comes through from my mother.

  You should rethink the buffet, Quinn. Evelyn Bradbury hired a private chef for her wedding and it was so much classier.

  I roll my eyes and flip my phone over so I won’t be subjected to more of her texts.

  I hear the front door to my apartment close, so I grab my brush. I pretend I’m just brushing my hair rather than moping in the bathroom when Graham walks in. The sight of him alone instantly calms me. My frustration is now long gone and replaced with a smile. Graham wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses me on the neck. “Hey, beautiful.” He smiles at me in the mirror.

  “Hey, handsome.”

  He spins me around and gives me an even better kiss. “How was your day?”

  “Fine. How was yours?”

  “Fine.”

  I push against his chest because he’s staring at me too hard and I might accidentally let my true emotions out and then he’ll ask me what’s wrong and I’ll have to tell him how much this wedding is stressing me out.

  I turn around and face the mirror, hoping he’ll go to the living room or the kitchen or anywhere that isn’t somewhere he can stare at me like he’s staring at me right now.

  “What’s bothering you?”

  Sometimes I hate how well he knows me.

  Except during sex. It comes in handy during sex.

  “Why can’t you be oblivious to a woman’s emotional state like most men?”

  He smiles and pulls me to him. “If I was oblivious to your emotional state, I would merely be a man in love with you. But I’m more than that. I’m your soul mate and I can feel everything you’re feeling.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “Why are you sad, Quinn?”

  I sigh, exasperated. “My mother.” He releases me and I walk to the bedroom and sit on my bed. I fall backward and stare up at the ceiling. “She’s trying to turn our wedding into the wedding she had planned for me and Ethan. She’s not even asking me what we want, Graham. She’s just making decisions and telling me after the fact.”

  Graham crawls onto the bed and lays beside me, propping his head up on his hand. He rests his other hand on my stomach.

  “Yesterday she told me she put down a deposit at the Douglas Whimberly Plaza for the date of our wedding. She’s not even asking what we want, but because she’s paying for everything, she thinks it earns her the right to make all the decisions. Today she texted and said she ordered the invitations.”

  Graham makes a face. “You think that means our wedding invitations will have the word prestigious in them?”

  I laugh. “I’d be more shocked if they didn’t.” My head flops to the side and I give him the most pathetic look, short of pouting. “I don’t want a huge wedding in a fancy plaza with all my mother’s friends there.”

  “What do you want?”

  “At this point I don’t even know that I want a wedding.” Graham tilts his head, a little concerned by my comment. I quickly rectify it. “I don’t mean I don’t want to marry you. I just don’t want to marry you in my mother’s dream wedding.”

  Graham gives me a reassuring smile. “We’ve only been engaged for three months. We still have five months before the wedding date. There’s plenty of time to put your foot down and make sure you get what you want. If it’ll make things easier for you, just blame everything on me. Tell her I said no and she can hate me for ruining her dream wedding while keeping the peace between the two of you.”

  Why is he so perfect? “You really don’t care if I blame you?”

  He laughs. “Quinn, your mother already hates me. This will give her a little more justification for her hatred and then everyone wins.” He stands up and slips off his shoes. “We going out tonight?”

  “Whatever you want to do. Ava and Reid are ordering some kind of fight on Pay-Per-View and invited us over.”

  Graham undoes his tie. “That sounds fun. I have some emails I need to send but
I can be ready in an hour.”

  I watch as he leaves the room. I fall back onto the bed and smile because it feels like he just might have come up with a solution to some of my issues in less than two minutes. But even though the solution sounds like a good one—just blame Graham for everything—my mother will never go for it. She’ll just point out that Graham isn’t paying for the wedding, so Graham doesn’t get a say.

  But still. He tried to solve my issues. That’s what counts, right? He’s willing to take the blame for something just to keep the peace between my mother and me.

  I can’t believe I get to marry that man in five months. I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with him. Even if that life together will start in the Douglas Whimberly Plaza, surrounded by people I barely know and food that’s so expensive, it guarantees ample trays full of raw meat and ceviche that no one actually likes to eat, but pretends to because it’s fancy.

  Oh, well. The wedding may not be ideal, but it will only be a few painful hours, followed by a lifetime of perfection.

  I drag myself off the bed, committed to somehow remaining sane for the next five months. I spend the next half hour getting ready for our night out. Graham and I have a handful of friends we sometimes spend time with on the weekends, but we mostly spend our time with Ava and Reid. They got married just before I met Graham. Ava was smart. She married Reid on a whim in Vegas. My mother wasn’t able to order her invitations or book her venue or even choose which cake tasted best to her. I was the only one who knew they were jetting off to Vegas to get married and I’ve secretly been envious of their decision.