Page 158 of His Reckoning

He tosses his jacket over the back of a chair and walks over slowly. “From who?”

“My mom.”

Sawyer’s expression changes immediately. Not softer, just … knowing.

“Ah.”

He sits on the edge of the coffee table across from me.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing new.” I shrug, trying to sound casual. “She was just reminding me that my sisters married successful men and I’m apparently wasting my life writing books.”

Irritation flashes briefly across his face. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s also very on brand for her.” I force a small smile. “She thinks I should find some rich guy who will take care of me instead of trying to support myself.”

Sawyer leans back slightly, studying me. “And what do you think?”

“I think I’m doing just fine.” My voice cracks slightly on the last word.

I can tell by the way he is studying me that he notices how I barely believe that myself anymore.

He leans forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. “Your mom’s wrong.”

I laugh weakly. “You don’t even know me that well.”

“I know enough.”

I look up at him.

He shrugs one shoulder casually. “You built a career doing something most people never even attempt.”

“It’s not exactly curing cancer.”

“So?” His tone sharpens slightly. “Most people spend their entire lives doing things they hate. You actually went after something you wanted.”

His eyes hold mine steadily. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about that.”

His words settle somewhere deep inside me which is … unexpected. I look down at my hands, suddenly embarrassed by how much those words mean.

Sawyer stands. “Come on.”

I blink up at him. “Where are we going?”

“Kitchen.”

“For what?”

He starts walking already. “Because sitting here, crying, isn’t helping anything.”

I follow him slowly. “And what’s your plan exactly?”

He opens a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of wine.

“My plan,” he says calmly, grabbing two glasses, “is to make sure you forget about that phone call.”

“Oh, really?”