That was true. I did love the basics. Jeans, sweater, some kind of cute top. But none of that mattered because I had survived. And now I was going to live to tell the tale and I was going to London. No one was stopping me from it. I packed the makeup bag, again, with just the basics. I never really learned how to do much more than foundation powder and a subtle highlight. The whole smoky eye thing had bypassed me. A fact that always irritated Easton. He always wanted me to try harder with the makeup.

So I had loads of it, but I had no idea how to use any of it. Not that I needed to anymore, because now I was on my own. Holy cow, I had just broken up with Easton. I'd not only broken up with him, I’d threatened to kill him if he ever touched me again.

Jesus Christ.

I wouldn't let myself think about it. I wouldn't let myself look in the mirror. I wouldn't let the fear that often chased the worry settle in my bones. I'd done it. There was no going back. Not that I’d ever want to.

God, how horrible would it be if, after all of this, I succumbed and went back because I was a coward?

That's easy. Don't be a coward.

Right. When I had enough warm weather clothes shoved in the bag, I ran to get my paperwork. I didn't even have a ticket. Shit.

I sat down at my computer, pulled up the Bridge Early site and started to fill in the details. When I got to the portion where they asked for my passport number, I groaned. Christ, why can't they just let me buy a goddamn ticket? I ran up to the safe, and my fingers fumbled as I tapped in the code, but when it finally opened, I breathed a sigh of relief and shoved my hand in. I was really going to leave. And better yet, no one would have any idea where I was.

I dug my hand into my identification folder in the safe, looking for that familiar texture of my travel documents, but I didn't find it. I frowned and stuck my head in to a have a good deep look for the passport.

What had I done with it? Easton and I had gone to Costa Rica last year. I went to Ghana every other year, so I was due to go this year anyway. What had I done with my passport?

And then I wondered if Easton had sorted it on his side by accident. Whenever we travelled, he was the one in charge of the documents. He liked to be able to hold on to them. He used to tease me that he didn't want me taking off without him.