Page 45 of The Sculptor

And he kept it.

Duke’s throat bobs as his words betray his emotions. “I couldn’t leave it.”

Because I had taken it off when my hands started swelling in that final month, leaving it at the cabin when emergency services took us away, leaving Duke to handle the questions.

I nod my head, understanding the pain in his voice.

He couldn’t leave it, just like I couldn’t leave him. They had to force me from his arms that night. He was in shock. Even at eighteen, I knew that. He wouldn’t speak to me—he could only look at the infant in my arms—his son.

The son he breathed life into.

The son he saved.

And the son he inevitably lost.

This is no ordinary man.

Duke Potter is no Langston. He’s not even an Astor or a Vance.

Duke is something wholly different.

And there is nothing that I won’t do for him.

He says he couldn’t leave it behind.

Neither could I.

But I’m not talking about a ring.

“It’s still as beautiful as I remember,” I muse, tracing the heart-shaped gem.

His heart.

It had become our thing, and he made sure I never forgot it by sliding this ring on my finger that winter.

“Oh my goodness, Duke! What are you doing? Are you getting on one knee?”

I don’t know if it’s panic or excitement or the fact that I can’t see past my belly that has me asking such silly questions, but what I know for sure is that I love Duke Potter with every shallow breath I take.

“You’re ruining this for me, Ray,” he teases. “I practiced and everything.”

Because that’s what he does—he prepares.

“I’m sorry,” I say, waving my hand between us, “please continue.”

The grin he flashes me would get him pushed if I could move faster. “Are you sure? I can wait a little longer. Maybe when we retire will work?”

“Shut up and ask me like you rehearsed.”

Because I love nothing more than knowing he wanted to get this just right—even if I ruined it by asking a dumb question.

Duke clears his throat, his expression turning serious as his gaze rakes over me with those beautiful hazel eyes full of silent promises. “Ramsey Ford. I can’t offer you kingdoms and diamonds.”

Tears are already streaking down my face.

“But what I can offer is all I have—love.”

He pulls out the box, cracking it open and plucking out the ring before I can see it.

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