Page 104 of The Sculptor

The past twenty-four hours have been worse than the last eighteen years combined.

Duke betrayed me.

The evidence was in an envelope hand-delivered to Kelly by my considerate ex-fiancé. I wanted to deny Duke had any involvement with Jude, but I couldn’t. After all, the image of my husband laughing with a dark-headed stranger at the bottom of the letter was unmistakable. I would recognize Duke from anywhere. The man he was with, however, I couldn’t say if that was my son or not. He was facing away from the camera. But from the note contained in the letter, I was staring at my son and husband, who had been working together for a year.

A year!

And Duke never said anything. He just let me believe that Jude was still waiting for us to find him.

Out of everyone in my life, I never expected this from Duke. Never. Even Kelly couldn’t believe it.“He just doesn’t seem like the sort to lie,”she had said.“He’s cagey but not a liar.”

But did either of us actually know the real Duke? It had been years since he and Kelly dated and decades since he and I shared a life. Neither of us could say for certain what Duke was capable of—especially when his son was involved.

There was never a question that Duke didn’t love Jude. And when you love someone so deeply, you understand the lengths they would go through to keep who they cared about in their life.

But is that what Duke did?

Did he strike a deal with our son?

Did Jude, I mean Remington, know about me? Did he hate me, and that’s why Duke kept him hidden?

The possibilities were endless.

I decided to go with my gut without knowing who I could trust for the actual truth. And my gut said to take some time to figure it out before I had another knee-jerk reaction and texted Duke again.

I told him he could have his heart back—I didn’t want it anymore. But I lied. I still want his heart—it’s still painted on my body—whatever that might say about me.

Maybe I’m toxic. Perhaps I’m naïve. But I can’t just turn off decades worth of love I’ve developed for this man because my mind says I should.

I just can’t accept Duke hid my son from me. There has to be a reasonable explanation as to why Duke didn’t tell me about Remington. Duke isn’t cruel. He isn’t like the other men in my life. He’s loyal. He’s considerate. He’s…

A planner.

That’s the only one that stops me. Duke plans, and a year with our son indicates a plan I wasn’t privy to.

I groan and roll over, burying my head into the motel pillow, where I stayed last night. I couldn’t go back home—if Duke’s house was even my home to start with. I needed space, and a cheap motel where this all started when we were teenagers seemed fitting enough.

Except someone doesn’t realize my need for solitude when they bang on the door—disturbing my cry-fest. “Go away!” I shout. Surely, Duke hasn’t found me this quickly. Maybe it’s the building manager following up on complaints of sobbing. That’s more likely the case. But then again, I never put anything past Duke and his white knight complex. He’s already left dozens of texts and messages on my phone.

“I’m serious, Duke.” Let’s be real. It’s him. He’s the only one who would keep banging after ago away. “I don’t want to see you.” Oranyvisitors, for that matter, unless you’re Publisher’s Clearing House. Though, I’d hate to be caught on camera at this particular moment. I’ve made it a point to look my worst, leaving my hair a tangled mess with mismatched pajamas that look a hundred years old.

But the banging on the door won’t stop.

Fine. Screw it.

I throw open the door, ready to act like a complete fool, and fight with Duke in the doorway. “I don’t know who—”

Her smile stops me. “Hi,” she says, holding out her hand. “You don’t know me, but my name is Halle.”

Halle.

“Vance’s girlfriend?” I ask, vaguely recalling Duke mentioning that Halle was the only way to get on Vance’s good side.

She laughs, and it’s infectious enough I smile, too. “That would be me.”

As lovely as she is, I’m still not in the mood for company, especially anyone close to the lying Potter brothers. “Thank you for coming all this way,” I reply, pushing the door closed as I continue, “but I don’t have anything to say to—”

Halle sticks her foot in the door. “I know you’ve been hurt,” she says sincerely, “but I thought you might like to know that before I was Vance’s girlfriend, I was Remington’s best friend.”

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