Page 165 of Diego

The room is dim enough that I can tell morning has arrived without feeling much light against my eyelids, and that brings another thought. Diego must have dimmed the windows for me before he left the room. Considering how exhausted I was when we arrived, I doubt I would have noticed, but it is unexpectedly sweet that he thought about the light bothering me before I woke.

I have to admit, the dimmable windows are a very nice feature of the penthouse.

I sigh, turn carefully onto my side, and finally open my eyes.

Then I blink.

I stare straight ahead and blink again.

For several seconds, I can't connect with what I'm seeing.

There are floor-to-ceiling windows in front of me, yes. The glass is darkened enough to keep the room comfortable, but not so dark that I cannot see what lies beyond it.

And what lies beyond it is definitely not the Chicago skyline.

It is Lake Michigan.

I push myself up onto one elbow and stare through the windows while my confusion deepens. I know this view. More importantly, I know this house.

“No way.”

This is the lake house. The first property I showed Diego.

The house he spent the entire showing pretending was too much for him, even while I watched him find things he liked in almost every room.

The house I know he definitely did not buy.

I know because I heard about the sale weeks ago, before Diego’s penthouse transaction was even final. I remember thinking it was mildly disappointing because I had liked the property and had thought it perfect for him.

I sit there trying to make the puzzle pieces fit when the bedroom door opens.

I turn my head to see Diego walking in carrying a tray.

He stops when he sees my face.

“What? Is everything alright?” he asks, walking quicker toward me.

I point toward the windows silently.

His brows lift.

In my confusion, all I can think to say is "what?"

“Ah, yes.”

“What do you mean by that?”

I glance toward the lake and then back at him. “This house sold weeks ago. Not to you. I was keeping track of it.”

“Yes.”

I narrow my eyes. “That's your explanation? Did we break into someone else's house?”

A smile crosses his face as he sets the tray down near me on the bed before taking a seat on the edge of it. “Hardly. You were right, the house sold.”

“I know. I track the listings.”

“I made the new owners an offer.”