Page 49 of The Sculptor

This is precisely what I was afraid of. I wanted to protect him—I did. I didn’t want him to be part of this until I knew what happened to our son.

Cracking open the door, I find the shower running, and there, forehead on the tile, water pelting down onto his back, stands the most beautiful, broken man I’ve ever seen.

I don’t ask if I can join him.

I don’t know if he would even hear me in his state.

This is not the Duke full of wit and charm—this one hides behind the snark and smiles, crumbling amongst the screams.

This Duke doesn’t need an argument. He needs silence.

And I can give him that.

Slipping off my clothes, I step around his discarded phone and open the shower door, easing in behind him.

He never acknowledges me, even when I press against his back and loop my arms around his chest. For a moment, all we do is breathe.

In and out.

In and out.

Something that should be instinct.

But not now.

Not since everything has changed.

“Let me suffer with you,” I beg him quietly.

Because that’s what we’ve done since we’ve parted.

We’ve suffered alone—loving each other from afar as we’ve battled our demons and grieved the family we could never have.

“Let me quiet the screams.”

Duke turns in my arms, his eyes vacant and streaked with red. He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t need to. Nothing needs to be said—he needs to feel.

He needs to know that he’s no longer alone—neither of us are.

Taking his hand, I move it to the heart on my chest.

His heart.

The one I’ve kept all these years is the one I refuse to give back.

“You should know,” he says, his voice husky, “I won’t give you an annulment.”

I chuckle, placing my hands on his wet cheeks, moving the dark hair off his forehead. “I know.”

I gently kiss his lips, feeling him for the first time in years. “But that’s not what concerns me right now.”

He does.

His forehead comes to rest gently against mine. “Hey,” I say softly. “Look at me.” As he told me all those years ago, I remind him, “It’s just you and me.”

Slowly, his head tips back, his eyes finding mine under the spray of water. “It’s just you and me against the world.”

It’s always just been him and me.

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