Page 76 of The Sculptor

His fingers tighten against me as if he’s prepared for me to run. “But after being without you for so long, I know now that it wasn’t a mental need for you in my life.”

I take his hand from my hip and move it up my body, letting it rest on my chest. “This need—this love I have for you—is soul deep. When I’m without you, I’m incomplete. You fulfill me, Duke Potter. You complete me in an otherworldly way.”

A tear streaks down my cheek, but I don’t stop it. “And I know that sounds cringey, but it’s true. I am wholly me when I am with you. I’m not a congressman’s daughter or even an artist. I’m simply Ray—your Ray—and nothing, not even time or tragedy, has dulled the love I have for you.” I press a kiss to his lips. “I am honored to have lived this life with you, Duke Potter—all the wonderful and messy moments of it.”

I ease down, straddling his hips. “And no matter what happens next, loving you will always be worth the heartbreaking winters.”

It wasn’t the sexy words he probably expected, but I needed to say it, anyway. We’ve been through so much with each other. We’ve lived apart. We’ve broken and rebuilt. But somehow, we’ve found our way back to one another. We’ve found our way home.

Inhaling, I find Duke’s heated eyes. “Let me show you where your heart is, Dr. Potter.” I position myself over his cock, waiting.

This isn’t like when we were at the hotel, recently married. This is home. This is where our heart is.

The fall and winter were sacred.

A time when we loved.

And a time we lost.

That winter, we found a future.

That winter, we found our hearts.

This winter, we’ll breathe life back into our lives.

No longer is this the season of grieving. It’s the season of loving.

And I want nothing more than to love this man who couldn’t bear to part with any piece of us, even this cabin.

“Love me,” I tell him, lowering down, feeling the tip of his cock pierce my center, stretching me with every inch, “so I’ll always remember what it feels like to be loved under the warmth of the midnight sun.”

Ramsey

“Do you think he’ll take after me and become an artist or after you and become the next Dr. Potter?”

Duke’s eyes dance with amusement as he holds my foot, his hand steady as he applies the red polish to my toes. “Who says I’ll end up being a doctor? I kind of like being a handyman.”

He’s been a terrible handyman, but Mr. Clark, the owner of the cabin, helped him get the job. We needed money, and Duke, a man that has always come from money, set any pride he had aside and took whatever he could get.

He didn’t care what people thought of him.

He only cared about his family—that we were warm and fed.

So he’s been working odd jobs, learning the trade of repairs from a guy named Bill, whose wife sends us leftover dinners.

The people here in this small lake community are incredibly sweet. They haven’t once given my swollen belly the side-eye. Instead, they asked if we had everything ready for the baby.

Which, we didn’t.

But these people weren’t like our parents. They didn’t judge the decisions we made. They didn’t ask us what we were thinking or how we planned to raise our son. Instead, they supported us with a job and hand-me-down baby supplies that currently sit under the artificial Christmas tree in the corner of the small living room. Mr. Clark said Ms. Clark had bought a new one this year, and they didn’t need it.

I’m not sure if that’s the case, but either way, we’re grateful to spend Christmas Eve with a full belly and money in our pockets. It’s not much, and not the life Duke deserves, but right now, we’re together and content with knowing this choice was ours.

Shifting to a more comfortable position, I flash Duke a weighted smile. “You’re lying. You do not love being a handyman.”

He doesn’t stop painting my little toe. “Maybe I wouldn’t love being a doctor either.”

“Your steady hands speak otherwise,” I note, pointing out the skill he already mastered for the career.

---