Page 102 of His Reckoning

Curled into the corner of the couch, laptop open, and typing.

She doesn’t look up when I walk in, which is new. Usually, she notices everything.

Tonight, she’s too focused on the screen.

I set my briefcase on the counter and loosen my tie.

No reaction.

Her fingers keep moving across the keyboard.

The cursor flickers rapidly as line after line appears on the screen.

I walk into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water.

Still nothing.

She hasn’t even acknowledged that I’m home.

This means one of two things is happening.

Either she’s ignoring me deliberately or she’s completely absorbed in what she’s writing.

Neither possibility should appeal to me as much as it does.

I lean against the counter and watch her for a moment.

Her brow is slightly furrowed. Her fingers are moving quickly. The kind of focused concentration people usually only reach when they’re deep in thought.

Then she suddenly stops and looks up, catching me watching her.

Her expression immediately shifts.

“Oh no,” she says.

“What?”

“You’re here.”

“I live here.”

“And you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“The weird staring thing.”

“I’m standing in my kitchen.”

“You’re watching me write.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

Kayla narrows her eyes. “You’re testing your theory.”

I take a slow drink of water. “That’s a strong allegation.”

“You look unbearably pleased with yourself.”