Page 30 of Am I the Only One

Her knee stops jumping all over the place, and she draws in a really long breath. “I know you must think I’m crazy, and I shouldn’t be asking you what I’m asking. And by no means am I coming to you because I think you’re a person of low character. It’s quite the opposite, I promise you. I just ...” She loses her words, dropping her shoulders in defeat, and admits, “You’re the only person I have to turn to.”

“Me?”

“I know you need help, and I thought that maybe we could help each other.”

“I need financial help,” I blurt out, completely offended. “What you’re asking is beyond a simple loan.”

“I know.”

“You’re seriously asking me to sleep with your husband for money? Like a whore? Is that what you think I am? That I value myself so little and am so desperate for money I would fuck your husband?”

“No—I mean—I-I—” she stammers, and when I stand to grab my coat, she urges with desperation in her voice, “Please, Emma. I’m sorry. I just—I don’t know what else to do. This is my life on the line.”

“Mine’s on the line too. Mine’s pretty much in the gutter, but I’m not going around asking for handouts. But a handout is a far cry from what you’re asking of me.” I bite the words out harshly as I shrug on my coat, irritation marking every syllable. “News flash, I’m not for purchase.” I’m fuming as I toss my purse over my shoulder and head to the door.

“Wait!”

Turning around, I watch as she moves toward her desk and fumbles with a pen and paper, scribbling quickly.

“Here,” she says, holding the scrap of paper out for me.

I debate taking it, but after a second, I snatch it from her fingers to see a phone number scrawled on it.

“It’s my cell phone,” she says with hesitation. “Please ... I don’t know, just think about it?”

We deadlock on each other. I feel her despair, see it in the restlessness of her eyes, and I want to throw the paper to her feet and storm out. There is a split second where I consider doing just that, but then I find myself giving her a single nod. It isn’t one of agreement, which I think she knows. It’s one given out of sheer pity, and it’s all this woman will ever get from me. There’s nothing to think about. It’s a hard no for me, so she’s going to have to go sniffing for help elsewhere.

A thick haze clouds my head as I drive back to Luca’s. I’m drenched in utter disbelief of what just happened back there. Her proposition was so deranged that I’m starting to question my own sanity, starting to question whether my prim and proper therapist just asked me to sleep with her husband. Could I have misunderstood her?

No.

God, no. She was so clear.

That woman needs a serious dose of therapy for herself. One thing is for sure, I can’t continue seeing her for therapy. There’s no way we could ever continue with our sessions after that.

I’d be lying if I said that fifty thousand dollars didn’t tempt me. It does. For a moment, I thought I’d be willing to do anything for that money. Then she revealed what she wanted from me.

There’s an unfamiliar silver car parked in the driveway of Luca’s house when I pull up. Inside, I’m greeted with the unpleasant sounds of moaning coming from Luca’s bedroom.

Just what I need.

I toss my purse and coat onto the couch as I pass it and then stride right into my room where I kick the door shut. The slamming goes unnoticed, which doesn’t surprise me considering the volume at which that chick is expressing her ...enjoyment.

Maybe I should tell Mrs. Montgomery to givehera call.

When I can’t take it anymore and Luca’s grunts become audible, I shove in my earbuds and blast my playlist.

How has this become my life? I love Luca; he’s my best friend, but this makes me sick to my stomach. He should come with a warning sign, but they’d probably be too blinded by his wealth and good looks to even notice. I wonder if it was the same for Mrs. Montgomery.

Were there red flags she never saw? I mean, let’s face it, her husband is a powerful man and, for his age, very attractive. Was she swept away by all that? By his family name? By his money?

I can’t blame her if she was. Any girl would allow herself to be swept away.

Well, any girl other than me. I’ve never been one to get lost in a guy. I’ve never even allowed myself to get serious with anyone. My eyes have always been on the future. Goals and ambitions have always ranked above and beyond. In high school, I watched my friends fall in love, only to wind up heartbroken. I never wanted to be the girl crying in the hallway because her boyfriend dumped her for the next girl climbing the rank in popularity.

It’s all so superficial.

Hell, it wasn’t until my freshman year at Georgetown that I finally lost my virginity. I met the guy at a frat party, and we spent the evening hanging out and playing pool. After a few beers, I whispered in his ear for him to take me to his room. Truth was, I just wanted to get it over with. No one wants to be a virgin in college. So, he took me up to his room, and we had a great time together.

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