All Your Perfects

I smile at that thought. He reacts to the smile on my face and he continues to talk.

“You’ll still write, but you’ll work from home and you’ll only work when you feel like it. I’ll own my own accounting firm. You’ll drive a minivan because we’re totally gonna be those parents who take the kids to soccer games and gymnastics.” Graham grins at me. “And we’ll make love all the time. Probably not as often as we do now, but more than all of our friends.”

I press my hand over his heart. “That sounds like the perfect life, Graham.”

Because it does. But any life with Graham sounds perfect.

“Or . . .” he adds. “Maybe nothing will change. Maybe we’ll still live in an apartment. Maybe we’ll be struggling financially because we keep moving from job to job. We might not even be able to have kids, so we won’t have a big yard or even a minivan. We’ll be driving our same, shitty cars ten years from now. Maybe absolutely nothing will change and ten years from now, our lives will be the same as they are now. And all we’ll have is each other.”

Just like after he described the first scenario, a serene smile spreads across my face. “That sounds like the perfect life, too.” And it does. As long as I have Graham, I don’t know that this life could be anything less than what it is now. And right now, it’s wonderful.

I relax against his chest and fall asleep with the most peaceful feeling in my heart.





Chapter Thirty




* * *





Now


“Quinn.”

His voice is raspy against my ear. It’s the first morning in a long time that I’ve been able to wake up with a smile on my face. I open my eyes and Graham looks like a completely different person than the broken man who walked through Ava and Reid’s front door last night. He presses his lips to my cheek and then pulls back, pushing my hair off my face. “What did I miss while you were sleeping?”

I’ve missed those words so much. It’s one of the things I’ve missed the most about us. It means even more to me now, knowing he only stopped asking me because he didn’t want me to hurt. I reach my hand out to his face and brush my thumb across his mouth. “I dreamt about us.”

He kisses the pad of my thumb. “Was it a good dream or a bad dream?”

“It was good,” I say. “It wasn’t a typical weird dream, though. It was more of a memory.”

Graham slips a hand between his head and the pillow. “I want to know every detail.”

I mirror his position, smiling when I begin telling him about the dream. “It was our first anniversary. The night we decided to start a family. I asked you where you thought we’d be ten years from now. Do you remember?”

Graham shakes his head. “Vaguely. Where did I think we’d be?”

“You said we’d have kids and I’d drive a minivan and we’d live in a house with a big yard where we played with our children.” Graham’s smile falters. I brush his frown away with my thumb, wanting his smile back. “It’s strange, because I forgot all about that conversation until I dreamt about it last night. But it didn’t make me sad, Graham. Because then you said we might not have any of that. You said there was a chance that we’d be moving from job to job and that we wouldn’t be able to have kids. And that maybe nothing between us would change after ten years, and all we’d have was each other.”

“I remember that,” he whispers.

“Do you remember what I said to you?”

He shakes his head.

“I said, ‘That sounds like the perfect life, too.’?”

Graham blows out a breath, like he’s been waiting a lifetime for the words I’m giving him.

“I’m sorry I lost sight of that,” I whisper. “Of us. You’ve always been enough for me. Always.”

He looks at me like he’s missed my dreams as much as he’s missed me. “I love you, Quinn.”

“I love you, too.”

He presses his lips to my forehead, then my nose. I kiss him on the chin and we lie snuggled together.

At least until the moment is ruined by the growl from my stomach.

“Does your sister have anything to eat around here?” Graham pulls me out of the bed and we quietly make our way to the kitchen. It’s not even eight in the morning yet and Ava and Reid are still asleep. Graham and I scour the kitchen for all the food we need to make pancakes and eggs. He turns on the stove and I’m mixing the batter when I notice the wooden box he made me still sitting at the end of the counter.

I put down the mixer and walk over to the box. I run my hand over it, wondering if things would be different today had he not made this gift for us to close on our wedding night. I still remember writing him the love letter. I also remember slipping the nude pic inside the envelope. I wonder how different I look now than when I snapped that picture.

I open the box to pull out his letter, but when I pick it up, I notice a few scraps of paper at the bottom of the box. One of them is the yellow Post-it note I left stuck to my wall for six months. The other two are our fortunes.

I pick them up and read them. “I can’t believe you kept these all this time. It’s so cute.”

Graham walks over to me. “Cute?” He pulls one of the fortunes out of my hands. “This isn’t cute. It’s proof that fate exists.”

I shake my head and point to his fortune. “Your fortune says you would succeed in a business endeavor that day, but you didn’t even go to work. How is that proof that we’re soul mates?”

His lips curl up into a grin. “If I had been at work I never would have met you, Quinn. I’d say that’s the biggest work-related success I’ve ever had.”

I tilt my head, wondering why I never thought of his fortune from that point-of-view.

“Also . . . there’s this.” Graham flips his fortune over and holds it up, pointing at the number eight on the back.

I look down and also read the number on the back of mine. An eight.

Two number eights. The date we reconnected all those years ago.

“You lied to me,” I say, looking back up at him. “You said you were kidding about these having eights on the back.”

Graham takes the fortune out of my hand and carefully places both of them back in the box. “I didn’t want you to fall in love with me because of fate,” he says, closing the box. “I wanted you to fall in love with me simply because you couldn’t help yourself.”

I smile as I stare up at him with appreciation. I love that he’s sentimental. I love that he believes in fate more than he believes in coincidences. I love that he believes I’m his fate.

I stand on the tips of my toes and kiss him. He grabs the back of my head with both hands and returns my kiss with just as much appreciation.

After several moments of kissing and a couple of failed efforts at stopping, he mutters something about the pancakes burning and forces himself away from me as he steps to the stove. I bring my fingers to my lips and smile when I realize he just kissed me and I had absolutely no desire to pull away from him. In fact, I wanted the kiss to last even longer than it did. It’s a feeling I wasn’t sure I would be capable of again.

I debate pulling him back to me because I really want to kiss him again. But I also really want pancakes, so I let him resume cooking. I turn toward the wooden box and reach for the letter I wrote to him. Now that I feel like we’re on a path to recovery, it makes me want to read the words I wrote to him when we were first starting this journey together. I flip over the envelope to pull out the letter, but the envelope is still sealed. “Graham?” I turn back around. “You didn’t read yours?”

Graham glances over his shoulder and smiles at me. “I didn’t need to, Quinn. I’ll read it on our twenty-fifth anniversary.” He faces the stove and resumes cooking like he didn’t just say something that feels more healing than anything he’s ever said or done.