Page 72 of Am I the Only One

He rolls back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “So, we’re back to this? The distrust and accusations ... really, Carly?”

“Just answer me.”

“Why? For what reason?” he says, growing agitated with me. “Apparently, you already have your mind made up about my whereabouts.”

“I just want you to be honest?”

Shaking his head, he refutes, “No, you don’t.”

I take a step into the room.

“I’m always giving you the truth, but it’s never enough, is it? You’re so set on painting me out to be this piece-of-shit husband, but guess what, maybe you’re the piece of shit who can’t find it in her heart to trust and love her husband.”

“I do love you,” I exclaim. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t care that you’re out screwing around on me.”

He stands abruptly and slams his hands down onto his desk, leaning on them as he shouts. “When the fuck would I even find the time to screw around on you? I am busting my goddamn ass, jumping from meeting to meeting, from rally to rally. Interviews and press conferences. I can barely keep my head on straight, and you think I have time to fuck other women when I barely have time to fuck you!”

Words are weapons meant to injure, and I fight back. “Oh, so what was that, huh?” I lash out, pointing in the direction of our bedroom. “Was that just a quick fuck to you?”

“You tell me.”

“God, you are such an asshole!”

Stepping away from his desk, he pinches the bridge of his nose and loses a heavy sigh. “I’m the asshole? Really?” He drops his hand. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re trying to force me out because you don’t have the guts to end this yourself.”

“You think I want to lose you?” I question defensively as I step closer to him. “All I want is to keep you forever.” It’s the ugly truth that’s hard for me to admit—even to myself. No matter how furious I am with him, no matter how much he tears at my heart, deep down, I love him. I always have. Maybe that’s the reason I simply can’t walk away. It isn’t the money or the pride holding me here, it’s my love for him that keeps me from leaving.

The day I said “I do” is the day I promised for better or worse. Now, here we are, in the deep-end of worse. I can’t help but wonder if we have enough fight left in us to get back to the shallows, to get back to the better we spent so many years living in.

Even though I have hope that we can save this, there’s still a possibility we won’t.

And then what?

Are we left in a marriage of convenience like Margot and Conrad? What if I can’t find a way to be happy with Tripp? What then? Do I find my own side piece just as he has done? The thing is, I chose a life with Tripp—any life as long as it was with him. Maybe I was foolish to believe that, in this adulterated political world of corruption, we were different. For so long, I allowed myself to believe Tripp when he assured me we would never turn into the very people we’ve become.

Unfortunately, this is the life we wound up with.

I can’t walk away, but who’s to say I won’t find someone else on the side to make me happy one day. I never thought I would wind up in a marriage like this, that I would ever consider having a forbidden relationship within the one I have with Tripp. Truth be told, I don’t know if I ever could because I still desperately want Tripp, want what I know is buried beneath all the wreckage.

“I can’t believe you’re pulling this shit again,” he grits, rounding the desk and walking right past me.

“Tripp, I’m sorry.” I reach for his arm as he makes his way out of the office, but he easily yanks it out of my grip. I rush behind him down the stairs, cursing myself for stirring the pot the way I just did. If only I could learn to keep my mouth shut and emotions under control. “Where are you going?”

He grabs his wallet and keys from the kitchen island. “What does it matter?”

“Please, just stay,” I beg. “I’m sorry I accused you of being unfaithful. I didn’t—I didn’t want to fight.”

Shrugging on his coat, he yells, “What the fuck, Carly? Did you really think you could, once again, accuse me of cheating on you and that I wouldn’t get angry?”

“No. I mean yes. I-I—”

Stepping up to me, he gets in my face and seethes, “Don’t worry about where I’m going. Don’t worry about me at all.”

“Tripp—”

He grips my jaw painfully, and I’m wide-eyed petrified at his fury. “The only thing you need to worry about is yourself because I’m this close to leaving your nagging ass.”

He lets go of me with force, causing me to stumble back. I’m shaken to my core as I watch him swim out of focus behind the tears filling my eyes. Watercolors blur as he slams the front door behind him, leaving me in a hurricane of wretched shock.

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