Page 111 of The Sculptor

Does that mean she knows the truth?

I mean, Remington could have told her, but I didn’t ask him to. I wanted his first meeting with his mother to be about them. Well, apart from the whole heart thing and the pit stop for beef jerky. That was for me, but still. That’s all I asked him to do. Well, except for bringing her here—You know what? It doesn’t matter. She hasn’t slapped me or gotten back in the car. That has to be a good sign.

“Okay,” I start, hesitating for just a moment. “I don’t remember where I was in my speech, but you’re right. I did prepare one.”

I reach up and take her hand, gripping it tightly. “I’m sorry I failed you. I have no excuse other than I’m a man, and apparently, God did not give us the intuition like he gave women. I should have known Remington was my son. I should have recognized his eyes like you did. I should have felt this nagging sensation deep inside my soul that he was still out there. But I would never keep him from you.Never.You know I wanted him just as much as you did. If I had known, I—”

She stops me right there, pressing her finger to my lips. “Do you love me, Duke Potter?”

“More than anything,” I reply with a fierceness.

“When Remington goes off to college, and it’s just us alone again, will you still love me then?”

I nod. “Without a doubt.”

“And if I say I want to spend forever with you and that boy in there, will you—”

I don’t know where she’s going with this last question, but it doesn’t matter. I’m done, and I’m taking Vance’s fabricated advice and putting her ass in the house. We’re done talking here. It sounds like my dear, sweet son paved the way to forgiveness, and I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Standing, I sweep Ray up in my arms, ignoring her squeal, and “What are you doing?” questions as I take the stairs one at a time.

“You know what I’m doing, Ray,” I finally say when I’m at the door. “We’ve been here before.”

Her eyes widen.

Yeah, she knows my intentions.

“We’ve already done this twice!” she argues, though she sounds more excited than aggravated.

“But we’ve never done it with Remington here. Now, we’re officially home.”

I yell for the boy, who’s likely smoking in the bathroom, until he comes to the door, looking at Ray in my arms. “This looks like something I’m going to need therapy for later,” he says, sounding bored already.

“Probably,” I agree, “but let’s ensure we get our money’s worth. Take her left side.”

He rolls his eyes and addresses Ray. “Now I know he saysand doescringey shit all the time.”

I swear if I had a free hand, I would smack him, but that would ruin the moment, and I need all the good moments to remind Ray why she fell in love with me all those years ago.

“I think,” Ray says as we adjust her between us, “that he’s perfect.”

Remington gags but then grins when we start walking and he sees Ray’s face light up as we carry her over the threshold and into the living room.

He enjoys making her happy.

Just like me.

But then Ray starts crying, and he pulls to a stop. “What? What did you do?” he asks just as we sit Ray down gently.

I pat him on the shoulder and smile bigger than I have in years.

“I left the tree up. We have a picture to take.”

Duke

“Blow all the smoke out the window.”

I cast Remington a concerned look. “Seriously, how often do you smoke in inappropriate places?”

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