I Think We Missed Our Turn - L.A. Witt Page 0,5

breakup under my hat until we were back in town. If I told him, then he’d have to either tell her (and risk her being pissed off) or lie to her about it, even if it was lying by omission. I couldn’t put him in that position.

Putting the coffeepot back, I muttered some things that would’ve made my mama wash out my mouth with soap. I knew about Tanya’s bullshit when it came to me. She wasn’t exactly subtle about it. But it was just that—bullshit. Yeah, I had a thing for Armin. Yeah, I thought he was sexy all hell. That didn’t mean I’d cheat on my own boyfriend, that I’d want to fool around with someone who was cheating (gross), or that I’d try to lure him away from her. Like yeah, he deserved better, but it wasn’t my place to interfere with his relationship for selfish or altruistic reasons.

Oh, honey. I would love to have your man, but we agreed to be friends and he’s right that I respect your relationship.

Even if I do think he deserves someone better than you.

Yeah. I’d keep all that to myself, just like I’d been doing since he’d started dating her four years ago.

And for the record, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t think all that highly of her. Cass and Katie were both pros at giving her that super bright smile to her face before shooting daggers out their eyes at her back. It was kind of catty, but they both liked Armin, and we all got tired of her snide comments about him, so I mean—could you blame them? Even Omar would—when Armin and Tanya were out of earshot—sigh and mutter something that I was pretty sure translated to, “Son, why are you so stupid with women?”

But Armin was happy with her, so we all tried to be happy for him and just quietly hoped he saw the light on his own. Because he really did deserve better. And she probably did too—she could be a perfectly nice person sometimes, so maybe the two of them were just that terrible for each other.

Whatever. We were stuck driving together, and hopefully that wouldn’t be a disaster for them.

“…maybe three days each way?” Armin’s voice was coming closer. “Kind of depends on traffic, the weather, all of that. And how long it takes us to pack up the pieces.”

“All right,” Omar said. “Marques has a company Visa. Make sure you save all the receipts.”

“Will do.”

They both appeared in the breakroom.

“Oh! Marques.” Omar gestured at me. “Armin and I were just going over the trip logistics.”

“So I heard.” I sipped my coffee. “You think three days each way is enough?”

“Theoretically, we could make it in two.” Armin grimaced. “But especially on the way back with that kind of valuable cargo, I’d rather take our time.”

I nodded. “Good idea. Where exactly in Maine is she?”

“Calais.” Omar laughed dryly. “It’s about as far east as you can get. Right on the Canadian border.”

I whistled. “Okay, yeah, at least three days, then. I’ve made it to Boston in two, and those were pretty long days. Driving that far and then all the way across Maine? It’s going to take some time.”

“As long as you’re back in time for the show.” Omar looked pointedly at me. “That gives you two weeks, and the sooner you’re back, the better, so you can help us set up.”

“We’ll do the best we can.” I looked at Armin. “Your car or mine?”

“Actually,” Omar cut in, “I’m going to have you rent something. I don’t think you’ll need a van, but a big SUV like a Suburban should be enough.”

“To carry the art?” Armin asked.

“Exactly.”

“Okay.” I shrugged. “I’ll make the reservation while I’m reserving hotels. We can take an Uber to the airport in Norfolk and pick it up there.”

“I’ll let the two of you work out the details. Whatever you need.” He paused, then shot his son a pointed look. “Within reason. You’re not having dinner at Ruth’s Chris every night.”

Armin’s expression turned adorably innocent. “Okay, not every night, but—”

Omar sighed.

Armin chuckled. “Okay, okay. We won’t. I promise.” He turned a devilish grin on me and winked, oblivious to what that did to my ability to stand up.

I casually leaned against the breakroom counter. “We won’t go too crazy, boss. Promise.”

“Good.” Omar nodded sharply. Then his expression brightened, and he smiled like an excited little kid. “This is going to be amazing! Zoe Neelan’s work in our gallery.”

Armin smiled.