All Your Perfects(63)

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.”