In the kitchen, my body worked on automatic pilot. Chicken salad would not have been my choice of lunch, but Easton hated any Ghanaian food I cooked. I added the mayonnaise and the additional spices I knew Easton liked. I always saved the scallions for last because he liked them fresh but not too big and not too fine like the food processor would have done.

“God, I needed that shower. That run was brutal.” Easton’s voice was jovial.

I was too numb to answer, as rage battled for dominance with disbelief and sorrow. Instead, I just continued chopping. My mind was unable to form coherent thoughts.

He continued without waiting for a response. “I went down by the library then up Independence. It was pretty. Still spring but with a touch of summer heat in the air.”

I smoothed the scallions off the knife into the chicken salad with my finger. While I worked, the bitter scent burned my nostrils. I still didn’t speak.

“What’s with you?” His tone was cold and held little note of concern.

I knew the moment his eyes landed on the envelope from the school. The air around him shifted subtly, and I braced myself.

His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke. “Where the hell did you get that?”

Stupid move or not, I wasn’t going to let this one go. If there was ever a time to stand up for myself, it was now. I was not the pathetic girl he thought I was. I had been strong once, and I reached deep into the depths of a long-forgotten girl to find a sliver of that strength. “Where the hell you hid it.”

I braced for shouting, but nothing happened.

Instead, when Easton spoke, his voice was pleading. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but you have to realize that London isn’t going to happen. We won’t survive if we don’t go together. Law is a more stable profession than photography. I mean, what are you going to do with that anyway? I had your best interest at heart.”

My best interest? My best fucking interest?

My fingers curled around the knife handle as my anger bubbled to the surface. I forced a deep breath, then another, and peeled my fingers off the hilt. “You lied to me. Every day I asked you, and every day you hid it from me.” I searched his handsome face. How had I become this? What had become of the real me?

He waved a dismissive hand. “Look. I did it for you. You needed to make a decision. The right decision. And you wouldn’t have been able to make it if you’d seen that envelope. Besides, you and I both know that you wouldn’t be happy in London.”