All Your Perfects(64)

“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.”