Page 112 of Diego

For the past month, Diego Conti’s penthouse has become the transaction that refuses to end. What was supposed to be a straightforward repair to the exterior window seals turned into something else once the facade contractor actually opened the affected sections. The deteriorated perimeter sealant had hidden damage to several of the pressure plates and gaskets securing the glass units.

Nothing dangerous, nothing that threatened the building itself, but enough that replacing the seals alone would have been pointless. The affected components had to be replaced, and because this is apparently the most complicated collection of windows ever installed in the city of Chicago, several of the replacement pieces had to be ordered specifically for the system.

Ten business days became three weeks.

Three weeks became four.

Then one of the replacement glass units arrived damaged and had to be reordered.

At that point, I stopped giving Diego estimated dates because every time I did, something else went wrong.

Now it has been five weeks since the inspection.

Five weeks since I stood in that office while Diego kissed me brainless against the wall and told me that once the penthouse closed, I would be out of excuses.

I have thought about that conversation more than I care to admit.

My phone chimes again in my hand. I look down.

The subject line reads:

FINAL INSPECTION CLEARANCE — MONTES PENTHOUSE.

For several seconds, I simply stare at it.

This is good news.

Excellent news, actually.

The repairs have been the only significant obstacle remaining. The documents are in order. Due diligence is essentially complete. Everyone has been waiting for the final water-penetration testing and inspection sign-off before the transaction can move forward.

I should be relieved.

Instead, my stomach churns.

I open the email.

The final report is attached, but the message itself gives me everything I need to know. The replacement glass units have been installed. The affected pressure plates and gaskets have been replaced. Exterior sealant has been completed around the repaired sections. The facade has passed the follow-up water test with no intrusion detected, and the inspector has cleared the work.

The penthouse passes.

The repairs are complete.

There is nothing left on the inspection side holding up the sale.

Diego can finally close.

The hand holding the phone lowers slowly into my lap.

For weeks, I have been waiting for this email.

I have fielded calls from Martin. Forwarded reports, coordinated access, updated Diego’s office every time the contractor moved the schedule again. I have watched what should have been a relatively minor repair stretch into an absurd ordeal involving exterior crews, replacement glass, custom components, weather delays, testing, and more paperwork than I knew could possibly be generated by a mere window problem.

Not to mention, Randall breathing down my neck every step of the way.

And through all of it, Diego and I have stayed apart.

Mostly.