All Your Perfects

I don’t think I’ll ever regret any of this. Something so perfect could never become a regret.

Graham opens the sliding glass door and walks onto the balcony. It was too cold to sit up here when we were here three months ago, but it’s perfect tonight. A cool breeze is coming off the water, blowing my hair just enough to keep it out of my face. Graham takes a seat next to me, tugging me toward him. I snuggle against him.

Graham leans forward slightly and places his phone next to mine on the railing in front of us. He’s been inside breaking the news to his mother that there won’t be a wedding.

“Is your mother upset?” I ask.

“She’s pretending to be happy for us but I can tell she would have liked to have been there.”

“Do you feel guilty?”

He laughs. “Not at all. She’s been through two weddings with two of my sisters and she’s in the middle of planning the last one’s wedding. I’m sure a huge part of her is relieved. It’s my sisters I’m worried about.”

I didn’t even think about them. I texted Ava on the way here yesterday, but I think she’s the only one who knew. Ava and all three of Graham’s sisters were going to be bridesmaids in the wedding. We had just told them last week. “What did they say?”

“I haven’t told them yet,” he says. “I’m sure I won’t have to because ten bucks says my mother is on the phone with all three of them right now.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy for you. Besides, they met my mother on Easter Sunday. They’ll understand why we ended up doing it this way.”

My phone pings. Graham reaches forward and grabs it for me. He naturally glances at it as he’s handing it to me. When I see the text is from my mom, I try to pull the phone from him, but it’s too late. He pulls it back to him and finishes reading the text.

“What is she talking about?”

I read the text and feel panic wash over me. “It’s nothing.” Please just let it go, Graham.

I can tell he isn’t, because he urges me to sit up and look at him. “Why did she text you that?”

I look down at my phone again. At her terrible text.

You think he jumped the gun because he was excited to marry you? Wake up, Quinn. It was the perfect way for him to avoid signing.

“Sign what?” Graham asks.

I press my hand against his heart and try to find the words, but they’re somehow even harder to find tonight than they have been the last three months I’ve avoided talking about it.

“She’s talking about a prenuptial agreement.”

“For what?” Graham says. I can already hear the offense in his voice.

“She’s concerned my stepfather has changed the will to add me to it. Or maybe he already has, I don’t know. It would make more sense, since she’s been wanting me to talk to you about it so bad.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“I was going to. It’s just . . . I don’t feel like I need to, Graham. I know that’s not why you’re marrying me. And even if my mother’s husband does leave me money in the future, I don’t care that it would go to both of us.”

Graham hooks his thumb under my chin. “First, you’re right. I don’t give a damn about your bank account. Second, your mother is mean to you and it makes me angry. But . . . as mean as she speaks to you sometimes, she’s right. You shouldn’t have married me without a prenup. I don’t know why you never talked to me about it. I would have signed one without question. I’m an accountant, Quinn. It’s the smart thing to do when assets are involved.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting him to agree with her. “Oh. Well . . . I should have brought it up to you, then. I didn’t think the conversation would be this easy.”

“I’m your husband. My goal is to make things easier on you, not more difficult.” He kisses me, but the kiss is interrupted by my phone going off.

It’s another text from my mother. Before I can finish reading it, Graham takes the phone from me. He types out a text to her.

Graham agreed to sign a postnup. Have your lawyer draft it up. Problem solved.

He sets the phone on the railing and, similar to the first night we met, he pushes the phone over the edge of the balcony. Before my phone lands in the bushes below, Graham’s phone receives an incoming text. And then another. And another.

“Your sisters.”

Graham leans forward and gives his phone a shove, too. When we hear it land in the bushes below, we both laugh.

“Much better,” he says. He stands up and reaches for my hand. “Come on. I have a present for you.”

I grab his hand and jump up with excitement. “Really? A wedding present?”

He pulls me behind him, walking me into the bedroom. “Have a seat,” he says, motioning to the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

I hop onto the center of the bed and wait giddily for him to get back with the gift. It’s the first gift I’ve ever received from my husband, so I’m making a way bigger deal out of it than it probably needs to be. I don’t know when he would have had time to buy me something. We didn’t know we were getting married until half an hour before we came here.

Graham walks back into the room holding a wooden box. I don’t know if the box is my present or if there’s something inside of it, but the box itself is so beautiful, I wouldn’t mind if the actual box was my present. It’s a dark mahogany wood and it looks hand-carved, with intricate detailing on the top of the lid.

“Did you make this?”

“A few years ago,” he says. “I used to build stuff in my father’s garage. I like working with wood.”

“I didn’t know that about you.”

Graham smiles at me. “Side effect of marrying someone you’ve known less than a year.” He takes a seat across from me on the bed. He won’t stop smiling, which excites me even more. He doesn’t hand me the present, though. He opens the lid and pulls something out of the box. It’s familiar. An envelope with his name on it.

“You know what this is?”

I take the envelope from him. The last time we were at this beach house, Graham asked me to write him a love letter. As soon as we got home, I spent an entire evening writing him this letter. I even sprayed it with my perfume and slipped a nude pic in the envelope before I sealed it.

After I gave it to him, I wondered why he never mentioned it again. But I got so caught up in the wedding, I forgot about it. I flip over the envelope and see that it’s never even been opened. “Why haven’t you opened it?”

He pulls another envelope out of the box, but he doesn’t answer me. This one is a larger envelope with my name on it.

I grab it from him, more excited for a love letter than I’ve ever been in my life. “You wrote me one, too?”

“First love letter I’ve ever written,” he says. “I think it’s a decent first attempt.”

I grin and use my finger to start to tear open the flap, but Graham snatches it out of my hands before I can get it open.

“You can’t read it yet.” He holds the letter against his chest like I might fight him for it.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he says, putting both envelopes back in the box. “It’s not time.”

“You wrote me a letter I’m not allowed to read?”

Graham appears to be enjoying this. “You have to wait. We’re locking this box and we’re saving it to open on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.” He grabs a lock that goes to the box and he slides it through the attached loop.

“Graham!” I say, laughing. “This is like the worst gift ever! You gave me twenty-five years of torment!”

He laughs.

As frustrating as the gift is, it’s also one of the sweetest things he’s ever done. I lift up onto my knees and lean forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m kind of mad I don’t get to read your letter yet,” I whisper. “But it’s a really beautiful gift. You really are the sweetest man I know, Mr. Wells.”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “I’m glad you like it, Mrs. Wells.”

I kiss him and then sit back down on the bed. I run my hand over the top of the box. “I’m sad you won’t see my picture for another twenty-five years. It required a lot of flexibility.”