All Your Perfects(56)

“You can’t sleep?” Graham asks. He hasn’t left the hospital all day. He only left the room earlier for half an hour, but then he returned and has been alternating between the couch and the chair next to my bed. Right now he’s in the chair, seated on the edge of it, waiting for me to speak. He looks exhausted, but I know Graham and he isn’t going anywhere until I do. “Do you want something to drink?”

I shake my head. “I’m not thirsty.” The only light on in the room is the one behind my bed and it makes it look like Graham is in a spotlight on a lonely stage.

His need to console me is warring with his awareness of the tension that’s been between us for so long. But he fights the tension and reaches for the rail. “Do you mind if I lay with you?” He already has the rail down and is crawling into the bed with me when I shake my head. He’s careful to turn me so that my IV doesn’t pull. He fits himself into less than half the bed next to me and slips a hand under my head, sacrificing his comfort for mine. He kisses me on the back of my head. Part of me wasn’t sure I wanted him in the bed with me, but I soon realize that falling asleep in our shared sadness is somehow more comforting than falling asleep alone.



* * *




“I’m flying home,” Ava blurts out, before I even have the chance to say hello.

“No you aren’t. I’m fine.”

“Quinn, I’m your sister. I want to come stay with you.”

“No,” I repeat. “I’ll be fine. You’re pregnant. The last thing you need is to spend all day on an airplane.”

She sighs heavily.

“Besides,” I add. “I’m thinking about coming to visit you, instead.” It’s a lie. I haven’t thought about it until this very moment. But my impending two weeks on bed rest makes me realize how much I’ll need to put space between our house and myself when I’m finally recovered.

“Really? Can you? When do you think you’ll be released to fly?”

“I’ll ask the doctor when she discharges me.”

“Please don’t say that if you aren’t serious.”

“I am serious. I think it’ll do me some good.”

“What about Graham? Won’t he be using all his vacation time during your recovery?”

I don’t talk about my marriage troubles to anyone. Not even Ava. “I want to come alone,” I say. I don’t elaborate. I haven’t told her Graham quit his job and I didn’t tell her about him kissing another woman. But by the pause Ava gives me, I can tell she knows something is up. I’ll wait to tell her about everything until I actually see her in person.

“Okay,” she says. “Talk to your doctor and let me know a date.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After I end the call, I look up from the hospital bed to see Graham standing in the doorway. I wait for him to tell me it’s not a good idea to plan travel after just having surgery. Instead, he just looks down at the coffee cup in his hand. “You’re going to visit Ava?”

He doesn’t say we. Part of me feels guilty. But surely he understands that I need space.

“Not until I get cleared to fly. But yeah. I need to see her.”

He doesn’t look up from his cup. He just nods a little and says, “Are you coming back?”

“Of course.”

Of course.

I don’t say it with a lot of conviction, but there’s enough in my voice to assure him that this isn’t a separation. It’s just a break.

He swallows heavily. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a couple of weeks.”

Graham nods and then takes a sip from his cup while kicking off the door. “We have some airline miles on our card. Let me know when you want to leave and I’ll book your flight.”





Chapter Twenty-five




* * *





Then


I don’t remember Ethan’s and my wedding plans being this stressful.

That might have been because I let my mother take the reins back then and had very little to do with the planning. But this is different. I want Graham and I to decide on what flavor of cake we want. I want Graham and I to decide who to invite and where it should be and what time of day we want to commit to each other for the rest of our lives. But my mother won’t stop making decisions that I don’t want her to make, no matter how many times I ask her to stop.

“I just want your day to be perfect, Quinn,” she says.

“Graham can’t afford these things, so I’m only trying to help out,” she says.

“Don’t forget to have him sign a prenup,” she says.

“You never know if your stepfather will leave you an inheritance,” she says. “You need to protect your assets.”

She says things that make me feel like marriage is nothing more than a loan to her, rather than a commitment of love. She’s brought up the idea of a prenuptial agreement so many times, she forgets that as it stands, I have no assets to protect. Besides, I know Graham isn’t marrying me for the money or property my stepfather may or may not leave me one day. Graham would marry me even if I were up to my eyeballs in debt.