Page 54 of Am I the Only One

“So, what was so urgent that you needed to see me on such short notice?”

“Do you remember the conversation we had over lunch the other week?” She nods, so I continue, “I took your advice.”

“And which piece of advice was it that you took?”

“To keep my hands clean.” The corner of her mouth lifts ever so slightly. “I paid a woman to help me.”

“What exactly did you pay her to do?”

Looking into the eyes of the one person who I can talk to about this, a woman who is just as deeply rooted in this political world as my husband, I reveal, “I paid her to sleep with Tripp.”

The other corner lifts, morphing her lips into a complete smile as she shakes her head slowly in disbelief. “Damn, girl. You’ve got some balls in those panties.”

“I don’t know about that,” I admit. “But I had to do something. I can’t sit around being his doormat anymore.” I tell her this, but it gets caught in the strings of confliction. Hell, it was only a couple of days ago that I was getting off to the thought of him with her, wishing it were me. In this attempt to take control, I feel like I’ve lost more than what I’ve gained. All this has done is make me miss my husband and what we used to have even more.

“So, what’s next?”

With a shrug, I say, “I’m not exactly sure, which is why I’m here. You’re the only person I can trust to help me.” And it’s true even though I feel like our friendship is on borrowed time. If Tripp wins this election, which many say he will, he will be on the same political path as Conrad, Margot’s husband.

Conrad is currently a fourth-year US Senator and has his eyes on the presidency. We are two years into the current presidential term, which means that around this time next year, our husbands will be announcing their run for the White House. I’m not quite sure what this means for my and Margot’s friendship since all campaigns involve some level of smearing, whether public or private.

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

“Sometimes I worry,” I confess.

“About?”

“Our husbands. Their goals are the same, so that will likely put us at odds. I don’t want that to happen.”

“Dear, you worry for nothing,” she says before crossing her legs and leaning forward. “You speak as if you didn’t just pay someone to screw your husband so that you could take half when you divorce the poor bastard. When it’s time for him to announce his run for president, you’ll no longer be the woman on his arm.”

That felt like ice water being thrown in my face, and in an attempt to hide my thoughts, I allow my eyes to drift over to the crackling fire. Why did I let myself assume that I’d be in the mix of that campaign? Denial that this is even happening? Perhaps. That particular emotion is just as useless as my fear of us being at odds.

“You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Margot stands and walks over, taking a seat next to me on the couch. “So, let’s plot our next step, shall we.” I give her an agreeing nod before she asks, “Show me what you have on him?”

“He fell for her instantly. I knew he would. She’s young and vibrant, a close reflection of myself when I was that age, the age Tripp fell in love with me.”

“And?”

“He slept with her ... twice.”

With an evil smirk, she quips, “That filthy pig,” before adding, “Good for you for catching him with his pants down—literally. Let me see what you have on him?”

“What do you mean?”

Her brows cinch in puzzlement. “You did get proof, right?”

My muscles tense, and I fear I’ve made a huge screw-up in my plan.

“Carly, please tell me you have photos, emails, texts, recordings,something.”

Shit.

Margot releases a disappointing sigh. “You’re kidding. Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

I should’ve known better than to think I could pull this off. I’ve never really been a deceitful person before this, my mind doesn’t operate like that.

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