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All Your Perfects

Book by Colleen Hoover · 50 quotes · All Your Perfects, Amor, Colleen Hoover

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All Your Perfects Quotes

“He’s wondering if I saw him wipe the remnants of her off his mouth. Off his neck. He’s wondering if I saw him adjust his tie. He’s wondering if I saw him press his head to the steering wheel in dread. Or regret. He doesn’t bring his eyes back to mine. Instead, he looks down. “What’s her name?” I somehow ask the question without it sounding spiteful. I ask it with the same tone I often use to ask him about his day. How was your day, dear? What’s your mistress’s name, dear? Despite my pleasant tone, Graham doesn’t answer me. He lifts his eyes until they meet mine, but he’s quiet in his denial. I feel my stomach turn like I might physically be sick. I’m shocked at how much his silence angers me. I’m shocked at how much more this hurts in reality than in my nightmares. I didn’t think it could get worse than the nightmares. I somehow stand up, still clenching my glass. I want to throw it. Not at him. I just need to throw it at something. I hate him with every part of my soul right now, but I don’t blame him enough to throw the glass at him. If I could throw it at myself, I would. But I can’t, so I throw it toward our wedding photo that hangs on the wall across the room. In repeat the words as my wineglass hits the picture, shattering, bleeding down the wall and all over the floor. “What’s her fucking name, Graham?!” My voice is no longer pleasant. Graham doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t look at the wedding photo, he doesn’t look at the bleeding floor beneath it, he doesn’t look at the front door, he doesn’t look at his feet. He looks me right in the eye and he says, “Andrea.” As soon as her name has fallen from his lips completely, he looks away. He doesn’t want to witness what his brutal honesty does to me.”

“After dinner, Graham and I offer to do the dishes. He turns on the radio and we stand at the sink together. I wash and he rinses. He talks about work and I listen. When an Ed Sheeran song starts to play, my hands are covered in soapy suds, but Graham pulls me to him anyway and starts dancing with me. We cling to each other and barely move while we dance—his arms around my waist and mine around his neck. His forehead is pressed to mine and even though I know he’s watching me, I keep my eyes closed and pretend we’re perfect.”

“The moments that follow my shrug are probably why it’s taken him so long to ask the question in the first place. It’s the moment I feel his heart come to a halt, the moment he presses his lips into my hair and sighs a breath he’ll never get back, the moment he realizes he has both arms wrapped around me but he still isn’t holding me. He hasn’t been able to hold me for a while now. It’s hard to hold on to someone who has long since slipped away.”

“Sé sin lugar a dudas que vamos a tener muchos buenos momentos. No importa lo que la vida nos lance, vamos a hacer grandes recuerdos juntos, Quinn. Eso es un hecho. Pero también vamos a tener días malos y días tristes y días que probarán nuestra determinación. Esos son los días que quiero que sientas el peso absoluto de mi amor por ti. Prometo que te amaré más durante las tormentas de lo que te amaré en los días perfectos. Prometo amarte más cuando estés sufriendo que cuando estés feliz. Prometo amarte más cuando seamos pobres que cuando andemos en riquezas. Prometo amarte más cuando estés llorando que cuando estés riendo. Prometo amarte más cuando estés enferma que cuando estés sana. Prometo amarte más cuando me odies que cuando me ames. Y prometo... juro... que te amo más al leer esta carta que cuando la escribí. No puedo esperar a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo. No puedo esperar para arrojar luz a todos tus perfectos.”