All Your Perfects(42)

Graham shakes his head. “You’re killing me, Quinn.” He stands up and gets dressed while I touch up my makeup.

We make it out the door.

We make it down the hallway.

But once again, we get distracted while we wait for the elevator.



* * *




“You’re late.” It’s the only thing Ava says when she opens the door and sees me standing there with Graham. She’s dressed in a two-piece pantsuit and her hair is styled like she’s straight out of Stepford Wives. She waits until we’re inside her house and then she slams the door shut. “Reid!” She yells his name and turns to look for him, but he’s standing right next to her. “Oh.” She tosses a hand toward Graham. “He’s here.”

Reid reaches out and shakes Graham’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Ava gives Graham the once-over. Then me. “Your costumes are so undignified.” She walks away without looking back.

“What the hell?” I say, looking at Reid. “Why is she being so rude?”

Reid laughs. “I tried to tell her it wasn’t an obvious costume.”

“What is she supposed to be? A bitch?”

Reid’s face reddens. He leans in to Graham and me. “She’s dressed up as your mother.”

Graham immediately starts to laugh. “So she’s not normally that . . . unpleasant?”

I roll my eyes and grab his hand. “Come on, I need to reintroduce you to my sister.”

Ava is actually nice to Graham the second time she meets him. But then she goes into character the rest of the night and pretends to be our mother. The funniest part is that no one at the party has any idea who she’s supposed to be. That’s just a secret among the four of us, which makes it even better every time I hear her tell someone how tired they look or how much she hates children.

At one point, she walked up to Graham and said, “How much money do you make?”

Then Ava said, “Make sure you sign a prenup before you marry my daughter.”

She’s so good at being our mother, I’m relieved the party is winding down because I don’t think I could take another second of it.

I’m in the kitchen with her now, helping her wash dishes. “I thought you and Reid used to have a dishwasher. Have I lost my mind?” Ava lifts her foot and points toward the mini-fridge with the glass door a few feet away. “Is that a wine refrigerator? Where your dishwasher used to be?”

“Yep,” she says.

“But . . . why?”

“Downside of marrying a French guy. He thinks an ample supply of chilled wine is more important than a dishwasher.”

“That’s terrible, Ava.”

She shrugs. “I agreed to it because he promised he’d do most of the dishes.”

“Then why are we doing the dishes?”

Ava rolls her eyes. “Because your boyfriend is a shiny new toy and my husband is enamored.”

It’s true. Graham and Reid have spent most of the night chatting. I hand Ava the last plate. “Reid pulled me aside earlier and told me he already likes Graham more than he ever liked Ethan.”

“That makes two of us,” Ava says.

“Three of us.”

When we finish with the dishes, I peek into the living room and Graham is saying something to Reid that’s requiring a lot of arm movement. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so animated. Reid is doubled over with laughter. Graham catches my eye and the smile that appears on his face during our quick glance sends a warmth through me. He holds my stare for a couple of seconds and then focuses his attention back on Reid. When I turn around, Ava is standing in the doorway, watching as I try to wipe the smile off my face.

“He’s in love with you.”

“Shh.” I walk back into the kitchen and she follows me.

“That look,” she says. She picks up a paper plate and fans herself. “That man is in love with you and he wants to marry you and he wants you to have all his babies.”

I can’t help but smile. “God, I hope so.”

Ava stands up straight and straightens out her pantsuit. “Well, Quinn. He is very decent-looking, but as your mother, I must admit that I think you can do much richer. Now where is my martini?”

I roll my eyes. “Please stop.”





Chapter Eighteen




* * *





Now


I don’t know if Graham slept in the guest room or on the couch last night, but wherever he slept, I doubt he actually got any sleep. I tried to imagine what he looked like with his sad eyes and his hands in his hair. Every now and then I’d feel sorry for him, but then I’d try to imagine what Andrea looks like. What she looked like through my husband’s sad eyes while he kissed her.

I wonder if Andrea knows that Graham is married. I wonder if she knows he has a wife at home who hasn’t been able to get pregnant. A wife who has spent the entire night and the entire day locked inside her bedroom. A wife who finally pulled herself out of bed long enough to pack a suitcase. A wife who is . . . done.

I want to be gone before Graham returns home.

I haven’t called my mother to tell her I’m coming to stay with her yet. I probably won’t call her. I’ll just show up. I dread the conversation with her enough to put as much time between now and having to speak with her about it.