Page 216 of His Reckoning

“What I need from you is simple. Print the book. Use the final draft she submitted. Put it on shelves by Friday.”

“That timeline is nearly impossible.”

“Nearly.”

She exhales. “There would need to be additional costs.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

She pauses. “I’d also need legal assurance that the author won’t hold us liable.”

“She won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

I think of Kayla walking into Melissa’s building without looking back, and for the first time all day, my voice softens.

“Trust me,” I say quietly. “She’d never ask for this. That’s why I am.”

The line goes quiet, and then the woman says carefully, “If this goes forward, the books can be delivered to the venue directly.”

“Good.”

I pull a pen from the console and jot the details onto the back of an envelope.

Venue. Time. Friday. Everything locking into place.

“Then make it happen.”

When I finally end the call, I sit back in the seat and stare at nothing for a long second.

The city moves around me, but beneath all the noise, one thought sits sharp and certain in my chest.

She thinks I want nothing to do with her.

That ends now.

* * *

The bookstore is bigger than I expected. Not massive, but not small enough to feel safe either.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves line the walls, packed with hardcovers and paperbacks in neat, organized rows. A small stage sits near the back—just a raised platform with a podium and a few rows of chairs facing it.

Simple and intimate, exactly what I need.

“Mr. Maccini?”

I turn.

A woman in her forties with sharp glasses and a clipboard approaches, offering a polite but curious smile.

“Yes.”

“I’m Andrea. We spoke on the phone.”

“Right.”

Her eyes flick briefly to my suit, then back to my face, like she’s still trying to figure out how I fit into all of this.