All Your Perfects

by Colleen Hoover

  I’m buttoning my jeans when Graham walks into the bathroom. “Are you ready?”

  “Almost. Let me grab some shoes.” I walk to my closet and Graham follows me in there. He leans against the doorway and watches me while I look for a pair of shoes. I have to dress up for work every day, so a lazy night at Ava and Reid’s is a nice respite from the heels and business attire I wear daily. I’m looking through all the shoes on my shelf, trying to find my favorite comfy pair. Graham is watching me the whole time. I glance at him a couple of times and I can’t help but think he’s up to something. There’s a smirk on his face. It’s barely there, but it’s there.

  “What is it?”

  He unfolds his arms and slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “What if I told you I just spent the last half hour reworking the plans for our wedding?”

  I stand up straight. He definitely has all my attention now. “What do you mean?”

  He inhales a breath, like he’s trying to calm his nerves. Knowing he’s nervous about whatever he’s about to say makes me nervous for what he’s about to say.

  “I don’t care about the details of our wedding, Quinn. We can have whatever kind of wedding you want as long as the final result is that you’ll be my wife. But . . .” He walks into my closet and pauses a foot away from me. “If the only thing you want from this wedding is me, then why are we waiting? Let’s just go ahead and get married. This weekend.” Before I can speak, he grabs my hands and squeezes them. “I just booked the beach house through next Monday. I spoke to a minister who is willing to come marry us there. He’ll even bring a witness so we don’t have to tell anyone. It’ll just be you and me. We’ll get married by the ocean tomorrow afternoon and then tomorrow night we can sit by the fire where I proposed to you. We’ll spend the whole night eating s’mores and asking each other questions, and then we’ll make love and fall asleep and wake up married on Sunday.”

  I’m almost as speechless as I was the moment he proposed to me. And just like three months ago when I was too excited and shocked to say yes, I nod. Profusely. And I laugh and I hug him and I kiss him.

  “It’s perfect, it’s perfect, I love you, it’s perfect.”

  We grab a suitcase out of my closet and start packing. We decide we aren’t telling anyone. Not even his mother.

  “We can call them tomorrow, after we’re married,” Graham says.

  I can’t stop smiling, even though I know my mother is going to completely lose it when I call her tomorrow night and tell her we’re already married. “My mother is going to kill us.”

  “Yes, she probably will. But it’s a lot easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  * * *

  Now

  Tomorrow will mark three weeks since I’ve been at Ava’s and I haven’t heard Graham’s voice since the day he dropped me off at the airport.

  He called me once last week but I didn’t answer my phone. I texted him and told him I needed time to think. He responded and said Call me when you’re ready. He hasn’t texted me since then and I’m still not ready to call him.

  As miserable as I feel inside, I really do like it here at Ava’s. I can’t determine if I like it because it’s new and different or if I like it because I feel further away from all of my problems. I haven’t done a lot of sightseeing because of the recovery. My body is still sore and weaker than what I’m used to. But Ava and Reid’s home is beautiful and relaxing, so I don’t mind spending most of my time here. It’s been so long since Ava and I had quality time together, I’ve actually been enjoying myself despite the circumstances of my marriage.

  I do miss Graham, though. But I miss the Graham that was married to the happier version of myself. We fit together better in the beginning than we do now. I know that’s because my piece of the puzzle has changed shape more than his. But even though I feel more at fault over the downfall of our relationship, it still does nothing to change the trajectory.

  This trip has been exactly what my soul was craving—a much-needed change of pace. I spoke openly to Ava about everything going on with Graham for the first time. The thing I love most about Ava is that she listens more than she gives advice. I don’t really want advice. Advice won’t change how I feel. Advice won’t change the fact that I can’t get pregnant. Advice won’t change the fact that Graham said he was devastated he hasn’t become a father yet. The only thing advice is good for is to pad the esteem of the person giving it. So instead of advice, she’s just given me distraction. Not only from Graham, but from our mother. From work. From infertility. Connecticut. My whole life.

  “What about this color?” Ava holds up a swatch of yellow paint.

  “Too . . . canary,” I say.

  She looks down at the swatch and laughs. “That’s actually what it’s called. Canary.”

  Reid walks to the stove and lifts a lid from a pot, taking a whiff of the sauce he’s been cooking. I’m sitting on the bar with Ava, looking through possible wall colors for their nursery. “If we’d just find out what we’re having, it would make this process a lot easier,” Reid says, putting the lid back on the pot. He turns off the burner.

  “Nope,” Ava says, sliding off the bar. “We decided we aren’t finding out. We only have ten weeks left. Be patient.” She gathers three plates from the cabinet and walks them to the table. I take silverware and napkins to the table while Reid brings the pasta.

  Neither of them have made me feel as if I’m overstaying my welcome, but I’m starting to worry that I might be. Three weeks is a long time to host someone. “I’ll probably fly home this week,” I say as I spoon pasta onto my plate.

  “Don’t leave on our account,” Reid says. “I like having you here. Brings me a little peace of mind while I’m traveling.”

  Reid spends two or three nights a week away from home and with Ava being pregnant, he worries about leaving her alone more than she wants him to. “I don’t know why my presence brings you peace of mind. Ava is braver than I am.”

  “It’s true,” she says. “One time we went to a haunted house and Freddy Krueger jumped out at us. Quinn pushed me toward him and ran back to the entrance.”

  “Did not,” I say. “I pushed you toward Jason Voorhees.”

  “Either way, I almost died,” Ava says.

  “Do you think you’ll fly back in two months when Ava has the baby?”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Bring Graham this time,” Reid says. “I miss the guy.”

  Graham and Reid have always gotten along well. But I can tell by the look Ava gives me that she hasn’t told Reid about Graham’s and my issues. I appreciate that.

  I twist my fork in the pasta, reflecting on how lonely I’ve felt since Ava and Reid moved away from Connecticut, but this is the first time I’ve realized how much their move probably affected Graham, too. He lost a friend in Reid with their move. Probably his closest friend since Tanner. But he’s never once talked about it because my sadness fills our house from wall to wall, leaving no room for his sadness.

  For the rest of dinner, all I can think about are all the things Graham probably doesn’t tell me because he doesn’t want to put his sadness onto me. When we’re finished eating, I offer to do the dishes. Reid and Ava are sitting at the table, poring over more color options for the nursery when their doorbell rings.

  “That’s weird,” Ava says.

  “Really weird,” Reid agrees.

  “Do you two never have visitors?”

  Reid scoots back from the table. “Never. We don’t really know anyone here well enough yet for them to come to our house.” He walks to the door and Ava and I are both watching him when he opens it.

  The last person I expect to see standing in that doorway is Graham.

  My hands are submersed in suds and I remain frozen as Reid and Graham hug hello. Reid helps him with his suitcase and as soon as he walks through the door, Graham’s eyes go in search of mine.

  When he finally se
es me, it’s as if his whole body relaxes. Reid is smiling, looking back and forth between us expectantly, waiting on the surprised reunion. But I don’t run to Graham and he doesn’t run to me. We just stare at each other in silence for a beat. The beat is a little too long. Long enough for Reid to sense the tension in this reunion.

  He clears his throat and takes Graham’s suitcase. “I’ll um . . . put this in the guest room for you.”

  “I’ll help you,” Ava says, quickly standing. When they’ve both disappeared down the hallway, I finally break out of my shocked trance long enough to pull my hands out of the water and dry them on a dish towel. Graham slowly makes his way into the kitchen, eyeing me carefully the whole time.

  My heart is pounding at the sight of him. I didn’t realize how much I missed him, but I don’t think that’s why my heart is pounding. My pulse is out of control because his presence means confrontation. And confrontation means a decision. I’m not sure I was ready for that yet. It’s the only reason I’ve still been hiding out at my sister’s house halfway across the world from him.

  “Hey,” he says. It’s such a simple word, but it feels more serious than anything he’s ever said to me. I guess that’s what almost three weeks of not speaking to your husband feels like.

  “Hi.” My reply comes out cautious. But not as cautious as the hug I eventually give him. It’s quick and meaningless and I want a redo as soon as I pull away from him, but instead I reach toward the sink and remove the drain. “This is a surprise.”

  Graham shrugs, leaning against the counter next to me. He gives the kitchen and living room a quick once-over before bringing his eyes back to mine. “How are you feeling?”

  I nod. “Good. I’m still a little sore, but I’ve been getting plenty of rest.” Surprisingly, I do feel good. “I thought I might be sadder than I am, but I’ve realized I had already come to terms with the fact that my uterus was useless, so what does it matter that it’s no longer in my body?”

  Graham stares at me in silence, not really knowing how to respond to that. I don’t expect him to, but his silence makes me want to scream. I don’t know what he’s doing here. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I’m angry that he showed up without warning and angry that I’m happy to see him.

  I wipe my hand across my forehead and press my back into the counter next to him.

  “What are you doing here, Graham?”

  He leans in to me, looking at me sincerely. “I can’t take this another day, Quinn.” His voice is low and pleading. “I need you to make a choice. Either leave me for good or come home with me.” He reaches for me, pulling me to his chest. “Come home with me,” he repeats in a whisper.

  I close my eyes and inhale the scent of him. I want so bad to tell him I forgive him. That I don’t even blame him for what he did.

  Yes, Graham kissing someone who wasn’t me is the single worst thing he’s done during our relationship. But I’m not completely innocent in this situation.

  Forgiving him isn’t even what I’ve been worried about.

  I’m worried about what happens after I forgive him. We had issues before he kissed another woman. We’ll still have those same issues if I forgive him. That night in the car, before the miscarriage, Graham and I fought about the affair. But as soon as we open this floodgate tonight . . . that’s when the real fight will happen. That’s when we’ll talk about the issues that caused all the other issues that lead to our current issues. This is the talk I’ve been trying to avoid for a couple of years now.

  The talk that’s about to happen because he just flew halfway around the world to confront me.

  I pull away from Graham, but before I can speak, Reid and Ava interrupt us, but only momentarily. “We’re going out for dessert,” Ava says, pulling on her jacket.

  Reid opens the front door. “See you two in an hour.” He closes the door and Graham and I are suddenly alone in their house, half a world away from our home. Half a world away from the comfort of our avoidance.

  “You must be exhausted,” I say. “Do you want to sleep first? Or eat?”

  “I’m fine,” he says quickly.

  I nod, realizing just how imminent this conversation is. He doesn’t even want food or water before we do this. And I can do nothing but stand here like I’m trying to decide if I want to talk it out or run from him so we can continue to avoid it. There’s never been so much tension between us as we contemplate our next moves.

  He eventually walks to the table. I follow him, taking a seat across from him. He folds his arms over the table and looks at me.

  He’s so handsome. As many times as I’ve turned away from him in the past, it’s not because I’m not attracted to him. That’s never been the issue. Even now after a full day of travel, he looks better than he did the day I met him. It always works that way with men, doesn’t it? They somehow look manlier into their thirties and forties than they did in the pinnacle of their youth.

  Graham has always taken good care of himself. Still, like clockwork, he wakes up every day and goes for a run. I love that he stays in shape, but not because of the physical attributes it’s given him. My favorite part of him is that he never talks about it. Graham isn’t the type to prove anything to anyone or turn his fitness routine into a pissing match with his friends. He runs for himself and no one else and I love that about him.

  He reminds me a lot in this moment of how he looked the morning after we got married. Tired. Neither of us got much sleep the night of our wedding and by morning, he looked like he’d aged five years overnight. His hair was in disarray; his eyes were slightly swollen from lack of sleep. But at least that morning he looked happy and tired.

  Right now, he’s nothing but sad and tired.

  He presses his palms and fingertips together and brings his hands against his mouth. He looks nervous, but also ready to get this over with. “What are you thinking?”

  I hate the feeling I’m experiencing right now. It’s like all my worries and fears have been bound together in a tight ball and that ball is bouncing around inside of me, pounding against my heart, my lungs, my gut, my throat. It’s making my hands shake, so I clasp them together on the table in front of me and try to still them.

  “I’m thinking about everything,” I say. “About where you went wrong. Where I went wrong.” I release a quick rush of air. “I’m thinking about how right it used to feel and how I wish it was still like that.”

  “We can get back to that, Quinn. I know we can.”

  He’s so hopeful when he says it. And naïve. “How?”

  He doesn’t have an answer for that question. Maybe that’s because he doesn’t feel broken. Everything broken in our marriage stems from me, and he can’t fix me. I’m sure if he could somehow fix our sex life, that would be enough to appease him for a few more years.

  “Do you think we should have sex more often?” Graham almost looks offended by my question. “That would make you happier, right?”

  He traces an invisible line on the table, looking down at it until he begins to speak. “I won’t lie and say I’m happy with our sex life. But I’m also not going to pretend that’s the only thing I wish were different. What I want more than anything is for you to want to be my wife.”

  “No, what you want is for me to be the wife I used to be. I don’t think you want me as I am now.”

  Graham stares at me a moment. “Maybe you’re right. Is it so bad that I missed it when I was convinced that you were in love with me? When you would get excited to see me? When you wanted to make love to me because you wanted to and not because you just wanted to get pregnant?” He leans forward, pegging me with his stare. “We can’t have kids, Quinn. And you know what? I’m okay with that. I didn’t marry you for the potential kids we might have had together one day. I fell in love with you and I committed to you because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s all I cared about when I said my vows. But I’m starting to realize that maybe you didn’t marry me for the same reasons.
”

  “That’s not fair,” I say quietly. He can’t insinuate that I wouldn’t have married him if I’d known he couldn’t have kids. And he can’t say he still would have married me if he’d had that knowledge prior to our marriage. A person can’t confidently proclaim what they would have done or how they would have felt in a situation they’ve never been in.

  Graham stands up and walks to the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and I sit silently as he drinks it. I wait for him to come back to the table to continue the conversation, because I’m not ready to speak again. I need to know everything he’s feeling before I decide what to say. What to do. When he takes his seat again, he reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine. He looks at me sincerely.

  “I will never put a single ounce of blame on you for what I did. I kissed someone who wasn’t you and that was my fault. But that’s only one issue out of a dozen issues we have in this marriage and they are not all my fault. I can’t help you when I don’t know what’s going on in your head.” He pulls my hand closer and cradles it between both of his. “I know that I have put you through hell these past few weeks. And I am so, so sorry for that. More than you know. But if you can forgive me for putting you through the worst thing imaginable, then I know we can get through the rest of it. I know we can.”

  He’s looking at me with so much hope in his expression. I guess that’s easy to do when he honestly believes him kissing someone else is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.

  If I weren’t so outraged, I would laugh. I pull my hand away from him.

  I stand up.

  I try to suck in a breath, but I had no idea anger settled in the lungs.