Page 49 of Diego

Diego

A few minutes later, Blair steps away to call the office.

She moves toward the far side of the penthouse with her phone pressed to her ear, keeping her voice low as she explains that the building is under a temporary shelter-in-place order. I catch Randall’s name once, then stop listening. Whatever she needs to tell Meridian is between her and the office, and for the first time all day, there is nothing immediately demanding my attention.

I sit back with the wine in my hand and look out over the city.

The penthouse is quiet, as promised. Comfortable. Private. Exactly the kind of place I have always chosen for myself.

Blair’s words come back anyway.

This fits the life you actually live every day.

Less maintenance. Less property to manage. Privacy. Space.

She was right.

That is what bothers me.

When she lays it out that way, my life sounds efficient. Streamlined, convenient. I go to work, I handle whatever needs handling, I come home to a place large enough to be comfortable and private enough that no one bothers me.

If something breaks, someone else fixes it. If I want company, I invite someone over. If I want to be alone, I close the door, and the rest of the world disappears.

I have spent years thinking that was freedom.

Sitting here now, with Blair’s assessment still echoing in my ears, it sounds so… empty.

I take another drink and stare through the glass.

The lake house had been excessive. I knew that before I even stepped inside. Too much property. Too many rooms for one man. But Blair had walked me through it and filled every one of those rooms with people.

My family around the table. The kids in the yard. Leonardo and Cecilia growing up in a place where they can make memories. My nephews bringing over wives someday, then children of their own. Noise. Food. People coming and going.

A house that would be used to its fullest extent.

The penthouse is easier.

That should make it the obvious choice.

Instead, I look around at the immaculate furniture, the perfect view, the quiet, and wonder when exactly easy started sounding so damn lonely.

Sterile. Definitely not fit for children.

There's a reason we don't have gatherings at my place.

Blair laughs softly at something on the phone across the room, and my attention shifts to her before I can stop it.

She is standing near the windows now, one arm folded beneath the other while she listens. Even from here, she looks composed. Polished. Like she belongs in a place like this.

For some reason, the penthouse feels less empty with her in it.

I take another drink and decide I am not examining that thought any further.

Blair ends the call a minute later and turns back toward me, slipping her phone into her bag as she crosses the room.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“As okay as it can be when I’m trapped in an off-market penthouse with one of the owners of the company during a fire emergency.”