Page 112 of The Sculptor

He chuckles, blowing the smoke out the window like I need a demonstration on how to do it properly. “I think the answer you’re looking for is more times than I can count.” He shrugs. “But that would be a lie. Normally, when I want to smoke, I smoke. I don’t give a fuck about cracking a window.”

Passing me the cigarette, he cocks a brow to silently ask if I’m going to be a pussy about it. “The only reason I have the window open is so you have a chance of getting laid tonight. If Ray catches you taking a hit off this, you’ll spend your honeymoon groveling instead of consummating—which is disgusting enough.”

I grab the cigarette and take a long drag. I’m not a smoker, but I had started pacing and sweating a few minutes ago, and it was all Remington had to settle my nerves. I was desperate.

“Well, I appreciate you thinking of my happiness for once,” I tease, handing the cigarette back, thinking Ray will likely smell it on me regardless of an open window.

“I don’t know why you’re so nervous, anyway,” Remington notes, adjusting his tie with a frown. “Isn’t this the ninth time you’ve married Ray?”

He’s loosened his tie and can’t seem to straighten it out without dropping his cigarette.

“For goodness’ sake.” I snatch him by the tie and level him with a disapproving look. “Who knots your tie at the office?” He wears a suit to the office most days.

He shrugs, unashamed. “Hal.”

Ah. Of course, she does. “Well, you need to learn how to do this if you’re going to be a doctor.”

He chuckles, acting like I’m ridiculous for mentioning such absurdity. “Trust me. When I become a doctor, I never plan on dressing or undressing myself.” He punches me playfully in the shoulder. “Perks of that MD behind your name, am I right?”

Heaven help me. I’m about to pay for my past sins with this kid. “You still need to know how to knot a tie.” I try changing the subject.

“Sure, Dr. Drab. Keep telling your married self that.”

At least he’s stopped with Dr. Douche. We’re making progress.

“Duke!” Vance yells, interrupting us by banging on the door. “Let’s go!”

I flash Remington a grin. “Tell your mama to watch for snakes.” Then I snatch the cigarette from his lips and drop it into the sink, walking out to where I’ll marry Ramsey Potter for the very last time.

Ramsey

A knock sounds at the door.

“You ready?” Halle looks over my shoulder in the full-length mirror, where I stand in a lace wedding gown.

I laugh. “Is this ridiculous? I mean, I’ve already married this man once. Now, we’re just wasting money.”

Halle moves the hair off my shoulder, holding my gaze in the mirror. “You’re not wasting money. You’re giving your family a chance to celebrate this moment with you.” She laughs. “You’re also conscious, so there’s that, too.”

I can’t argue with that point, which was the very reason Duke suggested another ceremony.

We’d spent a week in the cabin with Remington, all of us getting to know each other in the home where we dreamed of becoming a family. It was the best week of my life, sitting with my son and husband as we joked and learned each other’s quirks.

We spent time on the dock just watching the water ripple and teaching Remington to skip rocks—though that ended with him getting frustrated and saying, “Fuck this,” and heading inside to play online with Keys.

It was then that Duke apologized for getting me so drunk I couldn’t remember marrying him in Vegas. Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about having no memory of that night until he brought it up. We had so much going on with Langston and Jude that remembering the actual ceremony wasn’t all that important—finding our son was.

But Duke had to right his wrongs. He couldn’t bear me missing another moment in our lives together—unlike our fathers, who remain strangers in our lives and not caring if they miss any moments with Remington. Duke and I have tried to work toward forgiving them for the roles they played in taking our son, but they don’t make it easy.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Remington, the Potter brothers, and their women are all the family we need—especially to mark this special occasion at the cabin that started it all.

“Mom!” The banging starts up once again. “Should I start the car, or are we doing this?”

I can hear a hint of concern leaking into his joke.

“Is he not the cutest ever?” Halle grins, walking to the door and throwing it open.

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