Page 2 of His Reckoning

The hallway alone is bigger than the kitchen in our old apartment. Three doors line one side. Two on the other.

She opens the second door on the right. “This one.”

I step inside and stop immediately.

The bedroom is enormous. A king-size bed sits against the far wall with a tall, upholstered headboard that looks like it’s built into the wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the entire side of the room, the skyline of Manhattan glowing outside. There’s even a sitting area with two armchairs and a small table.

“This is the guest room?” I ask.

Melissa leans against the doorframe with a small smile. “Yep.”

“This is bigger than my entire bedroom back home.”

She walks in and sets one of my bags on the bench at the end of the bed.

“You have your own bathroom too,” she says, pointing to another door. “And the closet is ridiculous.”

I open the closet.

She’s right.

It’s not a closet.

It’s a room.

Built-in shelves. Hanging racks. Drawers.

My entire wardrobe could probably fit on one rack with space left over.

Melissa watches me with amusement. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m calculating how many years of my salary it would take to afford this place.”

She laughs again. “Relax. Sawyer barely uses the guest wing anyway.”

Guestwing.

Of course there’s a guest wing.

I close the closet door slowly.

“And you’re sure he’s okay with this?” I ask.

Melissa waves a hand dismissively. “He travels all the time. Half the week, he’s not even here.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Besides,” she adds, “he offered.”

That surprises me enough that I look up.

“He did?”

“Well … technically, Colton asked him first. But Sawyer didn’t hesitate.”

That surprises me even more.

The man I met at the bar didn’t seem like the type who eagerly opened his home to people who had insulted him.