All Your Perfects

“What changed your mind?”

“A few things,” he says. He nudges his head toward the ocean. “That being one of them. How can something exist that is that magnificent and powerful without something even more magnificent and powerful creating it?”

I stare out at the water with him when he asks me what I believe. I shrug. “Religion isn’t one of my mother’s strong suits, but I’ve always believed there was something out there greater than us. I just don’t know exactly what it is. I don’t think anyone knows for sure.”

“That’s why they call it faith,” he says.

“So how does a man of math and science reconcile his knowledge with his faith?”

Graham smiles when I ask him that question, like he’s been dying to discuss it. I love that about him. He has this adorable inner nerd that appears sometimes and it makes him even more attractive.

“Do you know how old the earth is, Quinn?”

“No, but I bet I’m about to find out.”

“Four and a half billion years old,” he says. His voice is full of wonder, like this is his absolute favorite thing to talk about. “Do you know how long ago our specific species appeared?”

“No idea.”

“Only two hundred thousand years ago,” he says. “Only two hundred thousand years out of four and a half billion years. It’s unbelievable.” He grabs my hand and lays it palm down on his thigh. He begins tracing over the back of my hand with a lazy finger. “If the back of your hand represented the age of this earth and every species that has ever lived, the entire human race wouldn’t even be visible to the naked eye. We are that insignificant.” He drags his fingers to the center of the back of my hand and points to a small freckle. “From the beginning of time until now, we could combine every single human that has ever walked this earth, and all their problems and concerns as a whole wouldn’t even amount to the size of this freckle right here.” He taps my hand. “Every single one of your life experiences could fit right here in this tiny freckle. So would mine. So would Beyoncé’s.”

I laugh.

“When you look at the earth’s existence as a whole, we’re nothing. We haven’t even been here long enough to earn bragging rights. Yet humans believe we’re the center of the universe. We focus on the stupidest, most mundane issues. We stress about things that mean absolutely nothing to the universe, when we should be nothing but grateful that evolution even gave our species a chance to have problems. Because one of these days . . . humans won’t exist. History will repeat itself and earth will move on to a different species altogether. Me and you . . . we’re just two people out of an entire race that, in retrospect, is still way less impressive at sustainability than a dinosaur. We just haven’t reached our expiration date yet.” He slides his fingers through mine and squeezes my hand.

“Based on all the scientific evidence that proves how insignificant we are, it was always hard for me to believe in God. The more appropriate question would have been, ‘Could a God believe in me?’ Because a lot has happened on this earth in four and a half billion years to think that a God would give a shit about me or my problems. But, I recently concluded that there’s no other explanation for how you and I could end up on the same planet, in the same species, in the same century, in the same country, in the same state, in the same town, in the same hallway, in front of the same door for the same reason at the exact same time. If God didn’t believe in me, then I’d have to believe you were just a coincidence. And you being a coincidence in my life is a lot harder for me to fathom than the mere existence of a higher power.”

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?”