Page 73 of The Sculptor

I narrow my gaze. “An adventure, yes, a brown recluse bite, no.”

“That’s not a brown recluse spider.”

“I don’t recall you being a Boy Scout. How would you know?” A spider is a freaking spider, no matter what kind it is.

He flashes me that panty-melting smile that is the sole reason I’m pregnant to begin with and shrugs. “I do have a general working knowledge that not all spiders are the same kind.”

“That doesn’t help us at all.” I cross my arms and let out a huff of aggravation. “Regardless of the species, that’s a big-ass spider, and it’s blocking the way in.” I let out a whine at the end.

Up until now, I’ve been a good sport with all the traveling. But now, being cooped up in the car for hours has only made me grouchier. And I have to pee. Again.

Duke chuckles and squeezes me in a gentle hug. “I’ll get the spider on one condition.”

I pull back and give him the side-eye. If this man wants me to enter this cabin, he will get the dang spider, regardless. One condition… my ass.

“I’m only indulging you because I love you,” I say. “What’s your condition?”

Those hazel eyes sparkle in delight as he tucks a wayward strand of hair away from my face. “You let me carry you over the threshold.”

“The threshold?” I rear back. “But we aren’t married.”

He shrugs, and it’s adorably awkward. “No, but one day, we will be, and you’ll be upset that I didn’t carry you over the threshold to our new home.”

It’s so sweet. I can’t help but smile and press a kiss to his lips. “You are something, Duke Potter.” And that something is so special that I will never let it go.

“Is that a yes?” He sounds way too excited about the idea.

“What if you drop me?” Let’s be real. “I’m not as light as I used to be.” Growing a baby will do that to you.

“Psh.” He waves me off. “You’re not heavy.”

Gah, I love when he lies to me like this. It’s absolutely precious.

“I am. Besides, what happens when we really are married? Are you going to regret unofficially carrying me over the threshold?”

“Will you?” he counters. “Because I can tell you that, officially or not, you are my wife—the mother of my child. And no matter where we are, as long as we are together, we’re home.”

Again, another reason I am pregnant. The man has a way to my heart.

I smile and run my fingers through his hair. His eyes drift shut at my touch.

This man just left his family.

He grabbed his book bag and made it look like any other school day.

We took only the essentials for what we needed to survive and to deliver a baby.

This cabin is where we’ll bring our son into this world in secret.

This cabin is where we’ll become parents.

He’s right. We don’t need to be official to make this moment special.

It’s already everything.

Because we’re together, and nothing, not even a signed certificate of marriage, will dampen the significance of what this moment means to us.

“All right,” I say as his eyes open. “You can carry me over the threshold. But,” I add quickly, “on two conditions.”

---