Page 77 of The Sculptor

“Steady hands don’t equal happiness,” he argues. “If you hadn’t gotten pregnant, and gone to Europe as your father planned, painting, but with another man, would you be happy?”

I have to fight back nausea. “No. I wouldn’t. Painting without you—”

“Exactly. Just because I love something doesn’t mean that I would love it without the person that means the most to me. I’m happy, Ray, as long as I’m with you.”

Leaning up as best I can with this ball of a baby in my tummy, I find his lips, pressing a soft kiss before pulling back. “I just want the best for you. I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t fulfill your purpose in this life.”

“My purpose, Ray,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine, “is being the husband and father you both deserve. Having a degree, becoming a doctor, and living in a nice house are tangible things that I could lose. I’ll eventually retire, we’ll move, could go bankrupt. But my love for you and our son will always remain through it all. I don’t worry about what I don’t have. Because everything that fulfills my soul is right here on the sofa.”

He drags in a deep breath and presses his lips to mine. “I already have more than most people, Ray, and I’d do anything to keep it.”

“Even if that means giving up a dream?” I whisper.

He pulls back and flashes me a solemn smile. “What’s a victory if you don’t have anyone to share it with?”

Oh, this man will always have my heart.

“You’re right,” I say with a hint of wonder in my voice, “and I promise to always be there to share those victories with you.”

“You sure?” His voice has a taunting edge to it. “Because now is the time to back out.” He moves over my body, careful not to put any weight on me. “You know how greedy I can get.”

His mouth goes to my neck, distracting me from where his hands rest on the underside of my thighs. “I’m sure—ahh! Stop—”

“Duke, stop!” I scream, the memory of the last time we were in the living room fading in my panic. “I’m going to fall!”

“I won’t let you fall,” he promises, not letting me go as he situates me on his shoulders. “Someone has to put the angel on the top of the tree.”

I lock my legs around him and hold on to his head. “I am a grown-ass woman who should not be on your shoulders,” I argue. “You could have just grabbed the ladder.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

“The fun will be when we don’t break a bone decorating the Christmas tree.” Seriously, I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this high off the ground.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” he says, handing me the tree topper, which I grab with one hand so I don’t have to let his head go. My balance has never been great, but this is just asking for trouble.

“I have faith,” I pop back. “Just not in myself.”

I can feel Duke’s shoulders shake underneath me. “Then have faith in me. I promise I won’t drop you.”

“Fine,” I whine. He’s never failed me yet, even if I do want to doubt his ability to walk us over to the tree so I can place the angel. I know he would never intentionally drop me, but he could trip.

“Breathe, Ray.” He takes a few steps toward the tree. “We’ve been here before.”

Yes, we have, but that tree was much shorter than this monster we cut down earlier, but that’s not what keeps me from saying anything and letting fear ruin this moment for him.

It’s my promise that I made many years ago to celebrate every victory with him.

He said he never needed a tree since that last Christmas we spent here.

He’s never decorated another tree.

He’s waited nearly two decades to celebrate this win with me.

My heart can’t even take the amount of love rushing through my veins. This man was adamant that his happiness came from sharing his wins with me. And at the time he made that declaration, I wasn’t sure if I understood the magnitude of the feeling of sharing a soul-deep connection with someone. But now, on top of this man’s shoulders, as he hums a classic Christmas carol under his breath, his body thrumming with excitement as I place the angel on the highest peak to watch over us all, I realize that he was right. This small, seemingly insignificant moment that essentially only lasts an entire minute was one of the greatest moments I’ve ever had.

Maybe it was his excitement.

Maybe it was the smell of the real tree with the bright lights and ornaments.

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