Free The Lost Girls by Jennifer Baggett

surge of panic run through me. Once we bought these tickets, the trip would be 100 percent real and there would be no turning back. I’d actually be leaving my life as I knew it—and the man I loved—for an entire year. But I’d also be spending that time living a dream instead of sitting behind a desk. Plus, we’d talked about it so much that I couldn’t back out now. “Okay, let’s do it,” I agreed, sounding far more sure than I felt.
    Covertly pirating a stray Wi-Fi signal, we plunked down our credit cards and took the first of many anticipated financial plunges. For less than $400 each, we secured one-way flights to Lima, arbitrarily selecting a June departure on the cheapest date available.
    Having a plan seemed to take Jen’s mind off her troubles with Brian. She pleaded with us to take it one step further andcharge the mandatory deposit to reserve spaces with an Inca trail operator. Maybe she needed a greater incentive to keep from backing out of the trip. Maybe she figured if she put her money where her mouth was, she’d be less likely to change her mind. Maybe that was the only way for all three of us to actually take the leap.
    Â 

CHAPTER FOUR
Jen
    LIMA AIRPORT/CUSCO, PERU
JUNE
    S till…no…bag!” Holly exclaimed, a wide-eyed expression spreading across her flushed face. The baggage carousel spun in futility, tormenting us with a rotation of the same three deserted suitcases and mangled boxes tattooed with crimson THIS END UP and FRAGILE warnings.
    â€œOkay, Corbett. Give us the play-by-play. What’s happening?” Amanda said, her pocket-sized camcorder poised to capture every action and emotion of the long-awaited kickoff to our round-the-world trip.
    So far we’d explored a dizzying array of international terminals, departure lounges, and overstuffed planes but had yet to set foot on foreign soil. No matter. We had 364 days of incredible adventure and never-ending thrills ahead of us. Assuming we ever got the hell out of Jorge Chávez International Airport, that is.
    â€œWell, we just landed here in Lima and we already have a lost luggage crisis,” Holly explained, hamming it up for our inaugural Peru video.
    â€œI’m just curious, Holly. Why do you think our bags made it here and yours didn’t?” Amanda inquired, feigning bewilderment.
    â€œI already told you. I tried to get the vaccine out of my bag during our layover in Miami, but they wouldn’t let me,” Holly replied, referring to the final dose of typhoid prevention meds she’d meant to stash in her carry-on but had left in the side pocket of her checked bag.
    â€œThat’s crazy. Why would the most savvy drug sniffers in America be suspicious of an unmarked vial of liquid packed in a thermos of ice?” I asked, throwing my arm over her shoulders to buffer my sarcasm. “Don’t worry, though. I promise we’ll get your bag back.”
    â€œDefinitely, Hol. I’m on it,” Amanda said, turning the camera on herself to sign off.
    As Amanda marched over to the customer service counter, Holly and I plopped down on the dingy floor tiles, resting side by side against a row of abandoned skycap carts with weary grins spreading across our faces. After all the fantasizing and planning and whirlwind good-byes, the day we’d all been waiting for had finally arrived. We weren’t going to let anything bring us down.
    Sitting there with Holly, I could hardly fathom all that had transpired since the last time we had been in South America together. I’d returned from our Argentina vacation refreshed and full of hope, throwing myself headlong into my new job. Before long, my career was soaring high, but unfortunately, things with Brian had plummeted to an all-time low. Our minor squabbles were upgraded to knock-down, drag-out fights, and, more times than I care to remember, we’d hurled out angry threats about taking time apart