Thick, steamy air clogged my nostrils with each shallow breath when I pictured Josh’s reaction to the “break-in.”
No. It’s fine. I’m going to return the items, including the painting.
Maybe. Hopefully.
My mind raced as I ran through my scripts tomorrow, both for Josh when he inevitably tells me about the burglary and for the person whose help I needed.
My plan was simple, but it hinged half on reality and half on hope.
It would work, though. It had to work.
There was no other option.