I Think We Missed Our Turn - L.A. Witt Page 0,8

a third of the bridge left, but considering the bridge was over seventeen miles long, we still had a ways to go.

Finally, though, we had land on both sides instead of water. The rain was still hammering the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it away, but the wind was better now that we weren’t as exposed as we’d been on the upraised bridge. Everything was more forgiving out here, too. Though the bridge had a guardrail along both sides, a truck had gone through it a few years ago and wound up in the bay. Out here, we might end up in the ditch or taking out a utility pole, but we wouldn’t go careening into the drink. I could work with that.

“Well.” Marques relaxed into his seat. “That was an adventure.”

“I know, right?” I shook out one hand, then the other. “We’re definitely going the other way if there’s wind when we come back.”

“Thank God for that,” he muttered.

I winced. “Sorry. I really didn’t think it would—”

“Nah, man. You’re good. I just hope this weather doesn’t follow us all the way to Maine, or this is going to be a long trip.”

“Ugh. No kidding.”

“You want me to drive, just say so.”

“I will.”

We continued up the Eastern Shore via Highway 13. When we made it to something like civilization, we stopped for some fast food. I was tired from both our early start and driving through the bullshit weather, so Marques took over.

Cell phone signal was spotty out here. A few miles up the highway, I finally had enough signal to check my messages.

And as soon as I did, I wished I hadn’t.

Now you’re not answering your phone?

Armin, you told me not to worry, but now you’re ignoring me.

Whatever. We’ll talk later.

I sighed. Really? We were really going to do this? Tanya and I had driven up this way ourselves more than once—she knew damn well that the Eastern Shore wasn’t exactly five-bar country. She also knew I’d planned to drive at least part of the time, so texting or calling would be off the table for a while.

I wrote back, Sorry, was driving. Signal isn’t great. Call tonight?

She read it, but she didn’t respond.

“Trouble with the lady?” Marques’s tone was playful, but laced with concern.

Exhaling, I put my phone aside. “Eh, she just wasn’t happy about me taking a last minute trip.”

He glanced at me, his eyebrow up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s…” God, I was so tired. And I was even more tired of pretending to everyone that Tanya and I were blissfully happy. Why did I keep trying? Was I trying to convince them or myself? I didn’t even know anymore, but somehow keeping up the façade sounded a lot less tiring than explaining how we’d gone from being ridiculously in love to fighting over everything. A lot less painful too. So I just said, “She would’ve liked to have gone with me. She’s never been to Maine. But it was short notice, so she can’t get the time off work, and…” I trailed off.

“That’s rough.” Marques didn’t sound quite convinced. “She knows why you’re doing it, though, right?”

“Oh yeah. We talked about it last night, and she gets that this is an unusual thing. And I promised her that next time we both have a long weekend, we’ll go up to Maine.”

Marques nodded as I spoke. Still focused on the rainy road ahead, he said, “She’s, um… She’s not upset about you being with me, is she?”

“What? No. She’s just…” I swallowed, trying not to fidget. “She doesn’t like it when I drop things on her at the last minute.” That wasn’t entirely a lie—Tanya really did hate being blindsided by things, and I tried my level best not to do it. “I’ll call her tonight, and…” What, Armin? Sort it out? Fix everything? Smooth things over so we can find something else to fight about? I sighed. “As they say, this too shall pass.”

Marques didn’t say anything.

I watched him from the passenger seat. I could usually read him—we’d been friends for years, after all—but not this time. “Did Chad mind you coming with me?”

Marques jumped, eyes flicking toward me. “Huh? Oh. No. Nah.” He shook his head and laughed, though it sounded really forced. “He’s got a lot going on this week, so he probably won’t even notice I’m gone.”

I studied him. Why did that sound like a half-truth too? Or was I just feeling conspicuous after I’d lied to him by omission? We could usually