"This place is beautiful!" she breathed. Although the room felt strange because it was round, everything in it felt like something out of a décor magazine—one of those rustic lodges or vacation rentals that would be titled, "Life as it was Meant to Be" or something like that.
Diane walked toward the fat couch and buried her hand in the soft, thick fur that was thrown over its back. "It's so soft! I have a big blanket on my couch, too. I love to curl up in it…"
And then it hit her.
She wasn't home.
This wasn't a dream.
She wasn't playing a game.
She was in a stranger's house, touching strange things, being judged by strange rules… and none of that was going to change. She wasn't going to wake up in the morning to discover it had been a dream.
Or that Tryson was next to her.
She was
