Page 103 of His Reckoning

“I look correct.”

She glances down at the screen again, then back at me.

“You know what’s really annoying?” she says.

“What?”

“I just wrote two paragraphs.”

“That seems like progress.”

“I wrote nothing all afternoon.”

“That does sound frustrating.”

“And the moment you walk in the room”—she gestures toward the laptop— “this happens.”

I push off the counter and walk closer. Just enough to glance at the screen. The page is filled with dialogue.

A scene clearly mid-development.

“You’re welcome,” I say.

Kayla glares at me. “You are unbelievable.”

“I’m correct.”

“You’re arrogant.” She folds her arms. “You really think you’re the reason I’m writing?”

“I think the pattern is becoming difficult to ignore.”

“You are not evidence.”

“I appear to be.”

Kayla looks down at the laptop again. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”

“A reasonable amount.”

She exhales sharply. “You’re the most conceited man I’ve ever met.”

“And yet you’re still writing.”

She groans and drops her head back against the couch. “This is humiliating.”

I sit down in the chair across from her. Completely composed and comfortable because now the pattern is obvious.

She types again, her fingers moving quickly. The moment stretches for a few minutes. Then Kayla stops typing and slowly lifts her head, eyeing me with pure irritation.

“Stop sitting there.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re existing.”

“That’s unavoidable.”

“You’re doing it on purpose.”