All Your Perfects
Page 42
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.”
Graham arches an eyebrow. “Flexibility, huh?”
I grin. I look down at the box, wondering what his letter to me says. I can’t believe I have to wait twenty-five years. “There’s no way around the wait?”
“The only time we’re allowed to open this box before our twenty-fifth anniversary is if it’s an emergency.”
“What kind of emergency? Like . . . death?”
He shakes his head. “No. A relationship emergency. Like . . . divorce.”
“Divorce?” I hate that word. “Seriously?”
“I don’t see us needing to open this box for any other reason than to celebrate our longevity, Quinn. But, if one of us ever decides we want a divorce—if we’ve reached the point where we think that’s the only answer—we have to promise not to go through with it until we open this box and read these letters. Maybe reminding each other of how we felt when we closed the box will help change our minds if we ever need to open it early.”
“So this box isn’t just a keepsake. It’s also a marriage survival kit?”
Graham shrugs. “You could say that. But we have nothing to worry about. I’m confident we won’t need to open this box for another twenty-five years.”
“I’m more than confident,” I say. “I would bet on it, but if I lose and we get divorced, I won’t have enough money to pay out on our bet because you never signed a prenup.”
Graham winks at me. “You shouldn’t have married a gold digger.”
“Do I still have time to change my mind?”
Graham clicks the lock shut. “Too late. I already locked it.” He picks up the key to the lock and walks the box to the dresser. “I’ll tape the key to the bottom of it tomorrow so we’ll never lose it,” he says.
He walks around the bed to get closer to me. He grabs me by the waist and lifts me off the bed, throwing me over his shoulder. He carries me over the patio threshold and back outside to the balcony where he slides me down his body as he sits on the swing.
I’m straddling his lap now, holding his face in my hands. “That was a really sweet gift,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t get you a gift. I didn’t know I was getting married today so I didn’t have time to shop.”
Graham slides my hair over my shoulder and presses his lips against the skin of my neck. “I can’t think of a single gift in the world I would push you off my lap for.”
“What if I bought you a huge flat screen TV? I bet you’d push me off your lap for a flat screen.”
He laughs against my neck. “Nope.” His hand slides up my stomach until he’s cupping my breast.
“What about a new car?”
He slowly drags his lips up my throat. When his mouth reaches mine, he whispers hell no against my lips. He tries to kiss me, but I pull back just enough.
“What if I bought you one of those fancy calculators that cost like two grand? I bet you’d push me off your lap for math.”
Graham slides his hands down my back. “Not even for math.” His tongue pushes between my lips and he kisses me with such assurance, my head starts to spin. And for the next half hour, that’s all we do. We make out like teenagers on the outdoor balcony.
Graham eventually stands up, holding me against him without breaking our kiss. He carries me inside and lays me down on the bed. He turns out the light and pushes the sliding glass door all the way open so we can hear the waves as they crash against the shore.
When he returns to the bed, he pulls off my clothes, one piece at a time, ripping my shirt in the process. He kisses his way down my neck and down my throat, all the way to my thighs, giving attention to every single part of me.
When he finally makes it back to my mouth, he tastes like me.
I roll him onto his back and return the favor until I taste like him.
When he spreads my legs and connects us, it feels different and new, because it’s the first time we’ve made love as husband and wife.
He’s still inside me when the first ray of sun begins to peek out from the ocean.
Chapter Twenty-eight
* * *
Now
Graham does nothing after I open the box. He just stands next to me in silence as I grab the envelope with his name on it. I slide it to him and look back down in the box.
I lift the envelope with my name on it, assuming it would be the only thing left inside the box since all we put in it before closing it were these two letters. But beneath our two letters, there are a few more letters, all addressed to me with dates on them. He’s been adding letters. I look up at him, silently questioning him.
“There were things I needed to say that you never really wanted to hear.” He grabs his envelope and walks out the back door, onto Ava and Reid’s back porch. I take the box to the guest bedroom and close the door.
I sit alone on the bed, holding the only envelope from him that I expected to find in the box. The one from our wedding night. He wrote the date in the top right corner of the envelope. I open the other envelopes and I pile the pages on top of each other in the order they were written. I’m too scared to read any of it. Too scared not to.
“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.”
Graham arches an eyebrow. “Flexibility, huh?”
I grin. I look down at the box, wondering what his letter to me says. I can’t believe I have to wait twenty-five years. “There’s no way around the wait?”
“The only time we’re allowed to open this box before our twenty-fifth anniversary is if it’s an emergency.”
“What kind of emergency? Like . . . death?”
He shakes his head. “No. A relationship emergency. Like . . . divorce.”
“Divorce?” I hate that word. “Seriously?”
“I don’t see us needing to open this box for any other reason than to celebrate our longevity, Quinn. But, if one of us ever decides we want a divorce—if we’ve reached the point where we think that’s the only answer—we have to promise not to go through with it until we open this box and read these letters. Maybe reminding each other of how we felt when we closed the box will help change our minds if we ever need to open it early.”
“So this box isn’t just a keepsake. It’s also a marriage survival kit?”
Graham shrugs. “You could say that. But we have nothing to worry about. I’m confident we won’t need to open this box for another twenty-five years.”
“I’m more than confident,” I say. “I would bet on it, but if I lose and we get divorced, I won’t have enough money to pay out on our bet because you never signed a prenup.”
Graham winks at me. “You shouldn’t have married a gold digger.”
“Do I still have time to change my mind?”
Graham clicks the lock shut. “Too late. I already locked it.” He picks up the key to the lock and walks the box to the dresser. “I’ll tape the key to the bottom of it tomorrow so we’ll never lose it,” he says.
He walks around the bed to get closer to me. He grabs me by the waist and lifts me off the bed, throwing me over his shoulder. He carries me over the patio threshold and back outside to the balcony where he slides me down his body as he sits on the swing.
I’m straddling his lap now, holding his face in my hands. “That was a really sweet gift,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t get you a gift. I didn’t know I was getting married today so I didn’t have time to shop.”
Graham slides my hair over my shoulder and presses his lips against the skin of my neck. “I can’t think of a single gift in the world I would push you off my lap for.”
“What if I bought you a huge flat screen TV? I bet you’d push me off your lap for a flat screen.”
He laughs against my neck. “Nope.” His hand slides up my stomach until he’s cupping my breast.
“What about a new car?”
He slowly drags his lips up my throat. When his mouth reaches mine, he whispers hell no against my lips. He tries to kiss me, but I pull back just enough.
“What if I bought you one of those fancy calculators that cost like two grand? I bet you’d push me off your lap for math.”
Graham slides his hands down my back. “Not even for math.” His tongue pushes between my lips and he kisses me with such assurance, my head starts to spin. And for the next half hour, that’s all we do. We make out like teenagers on the outdoor balcony.
Graham eventually stands up, holding me against him without breaking our kiss. He carries me inside and lays me down on the bed. He turns out the light and pushes the sliding glass door all the way open so we can hear the waves as they crash against the shore.
When he returns to the bed, he pulls off my clothes, one piece at a time, ripping my shirt in the process. He kisses his way down my neck and down my throat, all the way to my thighs, giving attention to every single part of me.
When he finally makes it back to my mouth, he tastes like me.
I roll him onto his back and return the favor until I taste like him.
When he spreads my legs and connects us, it feels different and new, because it’s the first time we’ve made love as husband and wife.
He’s still inside me when the first ray of sun begins to peek out from the ocean.
Chapter Twenty-eight
* * *
Now
Graham does nothing after I open the box. He just stands next to me in silence as I grab the envelope with his name on it. I slide it to him and look back down in the box.
I lift the envelope with my name on it, assuming it would be the only thing left inside the box since all we put in it before closing it were these two letters. But beneath our two letters, there are a few more letters, all addressed to me with dates on them. He’s been adding letters. I look up at him, silently questioning him.
“There were things I needed to say that you never really wanted to hear.” He grabs his envelope and walks out the back door, onto Ava and Reid’s back porch. I take the box to the guest bedroom and close the door.
I sit alone on the bed, holding the only envelope from him that I expected to find in the box. The one from our wedding night. He wrote the date in the top right corner of the envelope. I open the other envelopes and I pile the pages on top of each other in the order they were written. I’m too scared to read any of it. Too scared not to.
