Nose to the Grindstone

She ignores the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

It does no good. He's found her.

"Honey?"

"Hmm?" Her fingers fly as she tries to block out the familiar voice.

"I know you're writing but I wondered if you'd like to... Are you listening to me?"

"Mmm hmm..." One paragraph left. That's all. Just...one...paragraph.

"I know that sound." Now he's right behind her, leaning over her shoulder. She doesn't need to see his face to know he is reading the words as they appear on the laptop screen. He's not wearing his reading glasses. She can feel his squint. "It's the sound of--hey, is this the new book?"

"Uh huh." Down to the last sentence. It has to be perfect, to complete the chapter and draw the reader back again. The words are in her head. Getting them to her fingers; now that's the rub.

"Interesting. Is that--hey, is that what I think it is? Is she really going to--"

She presses save. Done for the day.

Flashing a satisfied grin, she turns to face him. "You betcha. Now, what did you come to ask? Did I want to...?"

He looks from the computer, its screen now dark, to her. Confusion is stamped so clearly on his handsome face she has to stifle a giggle.

"Well?" She pokes his shoulder with an fingertip. "What was it that brought you up here? Did I want to what?"

His fingers plow through his curly black hair. He shrugs. "I forgot. But...what happens next? In the book, I mean?"

She stands, takes his hand and heads for the stairs.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. Maybe. And only if you tell me you came to ask if I wanted a slice--a big slice--of that apple pie I smell baking."