Free The Foretelling (Charlotte Bloom #1) by Amanda Richardson

various clothing items, for a purpose I did not yet know. But I felt better, so that counted for something, right?
    As the cashier handed me my two large brown bags and the small one with my new undies, I decided I still wasn’t quite done. I needed a suitcase. Again, I wasn’t sure why – a small idea had started to form in the very depths of my mind, but I wasn’t allowing myself to comprehend it just yet. I stopped by the home goods department and picked up a bright red carry-on rolling suitcase. Again, it was more than I’d normally spend on a suitcase, but I didn’t have time to compare prices right now.
    I hurriedly carried my loot back out to my car. I threw the bags in the trunk and drove over to a drug store down the street. I came back with a hairdryer, toiletries, and travel essentials. I was set. I had everything I needed to get away. By this point, the small idea had turned into an actual, solid plan. I was going to the airport and I was going to ask to get on the next flight to Europe. Anna was right. I needed to be happy again, and now nothing was holding me back. I felt the inner traveler inside of me, buried for years, resurfacing. I was leaving. I was going somewhere I’d never been.
    I had two more stops before I went to the airport. I ran to my bank, an old branch near our old apartment in Studio City. I still kept our valuables in the safety deposit box there. Things like our marriage certificate, the pink slips for our cars, the deed to our house, and our passports. That’s precisely what I needed. My passport. Luckily, the bank was still open.
    As I ran back outside, I checked my phone. It was half past six already, which meant I had two hours to get to Amara before she left the reception for her honeymoon. I threw my passport into my purse and drove until I found a dry spot to pull over. A giant maple tree sat in an abandoned parking lot, and it was blocking the downpour. It was still light out, so I heaved the suitcase onto the ground, and began loading it up. I made sure to set aside the leggings, flats, and a t-shirt for the plane ride. I changed quickly. Even though it was a secluded spot, I was pretty sure I could get arrested for indecent exposure.
    I threw the black bridesmaid dress in my trunk, as I wouldn’t need it, and put on the comfy, brand-new leggings and t-shirt. I slipped on the new flats, and I threw my military jacket on top. I chucked my sandals and black stilettos into the suitcase, in case I needed them during my travels. All of my purchases from the drug store and from Bloomingdale's fit inside, fortunately. I heaved suitcase into my trunk, and made sure I had everything else ready. My passport and credit cards were in my purse, along with my lip gloss and eye mask that I’d purchased at the drug store. I’d also gotten a smutty romance novel to read on the plane. I cleaned out the rest of my purse, tossing anything I wouldn’t need.
    I slowly took off my wedding ring and put it in my purse, safe and sound deep inside one of the inner pockets. I wasn’t ready to completely take it off, and I wanted it close just in case. I wouldn’t fool anyone; I had a tan line from the band that would take weeks to even out.
    My phone vibrated a couple of times, and I saw one text from Adriana ("Feel better!") and one from Harry ("Call me"). Before I realized what I was doing, I was throwing my phone out and away from me. It landed in a ditch on the side of the empty parking lot, plopping loudly in a puddle, splashing water everywhere. Immediately after, I felt relief – only relief. That was satisfying. No one could contact me. I was free to do whatever I pleased. For the first time in my life, I could do whatever I wanted.
    At the bank, I’d transferred some money from my own personal savings account into my personal checking account, so as to not spend all of our joint money. I was pretty sure that could be used against me if we got divorced. The splurge at Bloomingdale's