Page 58 of The Sculptor

He’s being ridiculous again. It’s been an ongoing issue in this conversation.

“Ray.”

“I’m serious,” I try again.

I can feel him shrug. “So am I. I’m not leaving you, Ray. No matter how many times you give me this martyr speech. My future is you. We started this journey together, and together, we will finish it. You’re not running away and having our baby without me.”

Tears well in my eyes. I don’t know what I did to be worthy of such a good man, but I know I will forever be grateful for him. “What about your brothers? Your father?”

“Fuck my father,” he whispers in my ear, tickling the hair at the back of my neck. “And my brothers will understand… one day.”

“You’ll ruin your relationship with them, though.”

Duke and his brothers are all so close in age. There’s less than a year between each one of them, and their bond is as close as triplets. They connect on such a deeper level than any other siblings I’ve ever seen.

“They’ll understand,” Duke repeats. “Don’t worry.”

But I do worry.

I don’t have siblings, so I don’t have a bond like he has with Vance and Astor. But I know his brothers are important to him, and I’d never intentionally do anything to come between them.

“And if they don’t, one day, understand?” I try reasoning with him once more.

“Ray.” He groans. “I really don’t want to have to put you in the trunk of my car. I’m sure fumes aren’t good for a baby, but I will if you don’t shut up.”

I tip my head back and let out this deep belly laugh. This freaking man… “You’re impossible.”

He kisses my neck. “But you love me, anyway.”

“That I do.” Sliding my arms over his like a united front, I ask him one last time, “Are we really doing this?”

Those hazel eyes grow serious. “Yeah, Ray. We’re really doing this.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “We’re having a baby.”

There are two ways to get information out of Duke Potter.

One, get naked.

And two, gethimnaked.

However, neither of those things are currently working.

“What did Vance say when you told him about the wedding?” I narrow my eyes. “The wedding I don’t even remember.”

Duke offers me a sad smile. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

I swear if he didn’t seem fragile right now, I would shake him, but instead, I’m sticking with what I know works to pull him out of this mood.

The ridiculously large fireplace in his den is lit, music is playing, and he’s lying naked on a rug, like a good little muse, while I paint on his chest.

Oh, and we have bourbon.

One of these things is bound to loosen his lips.

“I don’t want you to make it up to me,” I snap, pointing at him with my paintbrush. “I want you to tell me what fucking happened with Langston and Vance today!”

We’ll deal with the conscious wedding thing another day. Right now, I have more important things on my mind. Like knowing what went down between the three of them.

“And I already told you. Nothing happened.” He downs the rest of his tumbler like the sexiest liar in the universe.

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