Page 81 of Diego

My shirt is on the floor near one end, my bra a few feet away. Diego’s shirt and trousers are scattered closer to the other side, along with his boxers. My skirt has somehow ended up hanging off one of the stools, and one shoe is lying on its side beneath the overhang.

“This looks like a crime scene.”

Diego comes up behind me. “A little.”

I turn my head. “You are not supposed to agree.”

“You don't seem to like it when I disagree.”

“Just... shut up.”

He chuckles at that.

I clutch the blanket with one hand and begin gathering my clothes with the other. My bra goes on top of my shirt. My skirt gets hooked over my wrist. I locate the second shoe somehow all the way near the couch.

That leaves one missing item.

I scan the floor.

Diego walks past me and picks up his trousers.

Damn it, I can't ask him.

I scan under the stools instead, pretending I am looking for absolutely anything else.

Nothing.

I crouch awkwardly, trying to keep the blanket from pooling around my feet while I check beneath the island.

Still nothing.

I straighten and look toward the living room again.

“Lose something?” Diego asks from behind me.

“No.”

“Are you sure? It looks like you lost something.”

“No,” I say, exasperated.

He watches me for a second, then reaches for his shirt from the floor and pulls it on with infuriating calm.

“Good,” he says.

I glance at him. “Good?”

“That you didn’t lose anything.”

My eyes narrow. “How would you know?”

He starts fixing the cuff of his shirt, even though it's currently unbuttoned, looking entirely too innocent.

I stare at him.

He smiles.

Something about that smile immediately makes me suspicious.