Page 27 of Am I the Only One

Jumping when my cell vibrates in my hand, I see it’s my office and quickly answer. “Hi, Jenny.”

“Hi. I got ahold of her. She’s free today, so I scheduled her for two o’clock this afternoon at your other office.”

“Thank you. I have to swing by the university later, so I’ll see you then.” I hang up and drop the phone onto an end table.

“Shit.” I try to breathe as I begin to pace back and forth again.

Oh my god.

Am I really doing this?

This is crazy. This is insanely crazy, but Margot is right. I have to stand up for myself. No longer will I be Tripp’s doormat. I won’t let him take everything from me in our divorce. I refuse to walk away with nothing when I’ve devoted the past thirteen years of my life to this man, sacrificed my career for him, and allowed my goals to take a backseat to his.

Looking at the time, I rush upstairs to pull myself together as best I can, despite not getting a minute’s worth of sleep. No amount of concealer is going to hide the dark circles under my eyes, but I do my best. I opt for casual clothes in hopes that she will see me in a less authoritative position and more on her level. Just one woman asking for another woman’s help.

I know it’s bullshit that I’m about to ask this girl to toss every moral she has out the window, but I’m going to do it anyway.

My hands brace themselves on the sink the moment the reality of what I’ll be asking her to do creeps in. With my head hung, I take in a deep breath in a meek attempt to calm myself, but too soon my cell rings again.

I cringe when I see that it’s Eloise.

“Eloise, hi. How are you?” I greet, all the while gritting my teeth.

“Caroline, I’m glad I caught you. I scheduled a meeting next week for you and I to discuss the rally and banquet being held at the University of Maryland. It’s very critical that you do your part with the young voters since they typically don’t vote republican,” she says. “It’s important for them to see that they can relate to you as a...well ... a person who was raised in a blue-collar family.”

In other words: poor.

“Tripp’s strategist will be joining us as well so he can go over speaking points, your attire, and overall behavior you’ll want to exude for this event.”

Not wanting to discuss this, I tell her, “That sounds great. I’m actually heading out the door right now, so just send me an invite to my email, and I’ll get it on my calendar, but I really do have to run.” I end the call and grind my teeth, knowing that she will berate me for my rudeness later. The woman insists on treating me like I’m some imbecile. I’m sick and tired of being the Montgomery’s puppet.

They never even ask about anything, they just demand, setting up meetings without even verifying if I’m available. When it comes to their son’s political career, I’m expected to be present no matter what. So many times I’ve had to push my job or my obligations to the side because, to them, I’m the low man on the totem pole.

Not any more.

Sure, I’ll play my part for the time being, but it will be a limited act if I can get Emma to help me, which is why I must approach her very delicately.

My palms start to sweat again as I give myself one last look over, tugging at the hem of my navy sweater, which I’ve paired with jeans and simple slip-on shoes. Second-guessing the pearl earrings, I take them out and set them on my dresser before grabbing my coat and scarf.

The gray sky hangs over the city like a blanket that delivers no comfort. Never did I imagine having to do life on my own, but here I am, taking it in my hands and forging my own path for the very first time. Because this isn’t about Tripp or his affairs—this is about me.

When I arrive at my office, my nerves are beyond shot. I’m literally trembling as I sit at my desk, waiting impatiently for Emma to arrive. She’s probably wondering why I’m having her meet me at my private practice and not at my office at Georgetown, but I couldn’t possibly have this conversation and run the risk of anyone overhearing us. Plus, what if she freaks out? It’s too risky to do this at the university—or any public place for that matter.

Maybe this shouldn’t be happening at all. Maybe I should leave, tell her something came up and that I have to cancel. Maybe I should—

The sound of the door opening yanks me from my doubts, and suddenly, anxiety rains down on me. My blood runs thin, sending a chill through my body as I walk into the small waiting room.

“Hi, Emma,” I greet as calmly as I can, but I can hear the unevenness in my voice. I walk over to the door and lock it. When she shoots me a strange look, I explain, “It’s just us. I don’t want someone walking in while we’re in my office.”

She nods and follows me back, taking a seat on my sofa before slipping off her coat.

“How are you doing today?”

“Good,” she says. “Is everything okay? We weren’t supposed to meet until next week.”

“This is ... umm ...” Shit. I’ve rehearsed this a hundred times in my head, planning out exactly what I would say to her, but now I can’t remember anything. “I just needed to talk to you about something,” I tell her as I drag one of the chairs closer to the couch and take a seat.

“It’s okay if you can’t continue to see me. I mean, I understand.”

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