Page 19 of The Sculptor

“Dr. Potter!” I need to put a stop to this. “What is it that you need from me at this hour?”

Duke drops his arm, his face turning serious. “I’m making sure my patient’s mental stability is intact. Otherwise, I might have to push your surgery date back even further.” He makes this pouty face. “No big titties for Langsty-poo.”

Oh, for goodness’ sake. “You don’t even plan on scheduling my surgery in the first place.”

Who does he think he’s playing with? I know Duke Potter better than himself.

He laughs. “You’re right. I will never give you breast implants, Ray. Call me sentimental, but I recall they fit perfectly in my mouth. I’d hate to destroy that memory just so Langston can dabble in a little breath play withmytits.”

I sigh. “They aren’t your tits anymore, remember?”

“No,” he says thoughtfully. “Saying they aren’t mine would imply that you somehow severed our relationship—which came with the free gift of titties.”

“We broke up,” I remind him.

“No, you walked away and never returned.” He looks victorious with this insane explanation. “There’s a difference.”

“Duke.”

“Ray.”

“We’re not together anymore.” This day just keeps getting better and better. “I’m with Langston now.”

Duke grins, lying on his bed, one hand behind his head as if this conversation is delightful. “I know. I feel like I’m supposed to react all alpha-male-ish and punch the guy for fucking my girl. As a matter of fact, shouldn’t you be wearing a scarlet letter or something?” He makes this shameful noise. “But don’t worry, Ray. I’ll forgive you. People make mistakes. I know a great therapist that will have us back to fucking on my car in no time.” He grins. “I have more than one now, you know?”

He jumps his eyebrows, and God help me, I can’t keep the laugh contained. “You need to stop,” I say through fits of laughter.

“I will just as soon as you tell me what you’re really doing with Langston.” His tone has turned serious again. “I mean it, Ray. Whatever it is, I can help you.”

I shake my head. “This is one thing I won’t let you help me with.”

The devastation on his face has tears pricking my eyes. “I promise, Potter,” I use the nickname I called him when we were kids, “I’m okay. Let me do this for u—.” I’ve said too much already.

“Do this for who, Ray?”

“Goodnight, Dr. Potter. I’ll see you at our next appointment.”

“Tell me, Ray, or I won’t let you have it.”

He dangles the T-shirt over my head. Why did he have to grow a freaking foot this summer?

I jump for the shirt only to meet air and laughter. “Tell me.”

“Duke, my shirt is ruined. Please give me yours.” I’ve resorted to whining.

“I wouldn’t say it’s ruined,” he fingers the sleeve and gags dramatically, “more like it’s disgusting.”

“And as my concerned and caring boyfriend, you shouldn’t want me to continue to wear a shirt covered in bird shit.”

Duke doubles over in laughter for the hundredth time in the last two minutes. “I told you not to sit under the tree.”

“I was hot! It was the only shade around.” I use his distraction and swipe at the shirt, but he’s too quick and holds it out of my reach again.

“You could have jumped in the lake with me,” he counters.

“And get bitten by a water moccasin? No thanks.”

He narrows his eyes. “You saw one snake by the dock, and now you think the entire lake is filled with them.”

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