Page 109 of The Sculptor

He takes the turn that leads to the driveway of the lake house. “It’s hard.” He clears his throat and tries again. “It’s been a long time since I even wanted a friend.” He laughs. “Halle was a bully, though, and didn’t give me a choice in the matter.”

He flashes me a smirk. “She tricked me. I thought she was some helpless tourist that would end up in some alley dumpster without my guidance.”

I love to see him smile—especially when it seems like he genuinely cares for her.

“And before I knew what was happening, I had a friendandagreed to move in with her and Vance.”

“You’re Vance’s assistant, right?”

He nods, this shit-eating grin on his face. “He adores all the quality time we spend together.”

I laugh. “I bet. But someone needed to give him hell.”

“Agreed, but Halle does a pretty decent job of it herself.” His smile drops like he remembered something unpleasant. “I’ll have to remember to threaten him before I leave.”

My heart sinks straight down to my toes. “You’re leaving?”

Remington’s gaze finds mine as he pulls into the driveway, parking in front of the garage. “Yeah, I made Vance a deal to attend college next year in Georgia,” he says carefully.

“Oh.”

I try to force a smile onto my face. College is good. I want him to go to school. I just didn’t realize how finite my time with him would be before he left.

“That’s wonderful,” I tell him. “I’ve never been to Georgia, but I hear it’s beautiful. What are you planning to study?”

He chuckles. “Well, I guess I’m following the family legacy, though that’s not originally why I picked the major.”

“You’re becoming a doctor,” I say, pride seeping into my words.

My heart can’t take it all as I reflect on Duke’s and my conversation all those years ago.“Do you think he’ll take after me and become an artist or after you and become the next Dr. Potter?”

At the time, Duke wasn’t sure he would become a doctor, but I knew he would. And now, so will our son.

“I mean, at the time, I didn’t know I was a Potter,” he explains, like he’s still not sure if I believe he and Duke didn’t hide their relationship from me. “Hell, I never dreamed I’d even go to college. It was not something on my bucket list. But Vance-hole”—he clears his throat—“said I would make a great surgeon one day, and that kind of stuck with me.”

I offer him an encouraging smile. “I agree with Vance there. All the Potter men have made great surgeons.”

“I enjoy working with them,” he admits. “They have always included me in the practice’s business.” His jaw clenches like he’s fighting off emotions. “And they’ve been generous with sharing their knowledge.”

My chest squeezes. How he describes his relationship with his father and uncles sounds like he’s never known kindness before. It makes me want to kill Langston.

“The best way to thank them,” I add, “is by giving back.” I grab his shoulder, wishing we weren’t in the car so I could hug him. “Make them proud by showing them how truly incredible you are.”

He is a Potter, after all. There is goodness in him, just like there is goodness in his father—and me. I don’t need him to become a doctor to make me proud or know how incredible he is. Because a mother just knows—she needs no proof.

“I guess this is it, huh?” he asks, glancing at the cabin door, where his father carried me over the threshold—twice.

I nod, and it takes me back to the car eighteen years ago when I put Duke’s hand on my belly.“Do you feel that?”I had asked him on the way to the cabin.“That’s our son. He knows we’re taking him home.”

But this time, I’m not feeling his kicks in my belly. This time, our son rounds the car, opens my door, and takes my hand, proclaiming, “We’re home.”

Duke

Ask me how many rocks I’ve skipped since I’ve been here waiting on Remington to bring my wife home.

A lot would be the answer.

But it was either that or text Remington a million times.

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