Page 4 of Am I the Only One

“Which is why I need to get going.” I grab a few student files and tuck them into my bag.

“Not so fast,” he says, pulling me in by the waist. “You looked amazing last night.”

Memories of that redhead swarm, and I have to temper my fury so I don’t snap at him. I want to ask why he couldn’t have expressed this compliment to me last night and why he felt it necessary to sneak alone time with that girl instead of me.

“So, you liked the red?” I pretend to flirt. It’s pathetic, really. My having to tuck my tail between my legs for the tiny bit of hope that my husband will give me the attention I’m so desperate for.

“Loved it.”

Tripp grips my hips tighter and kisses me. I want to get lost in the kiss the way I used to, but I can’t. All I can feel is tension, all I can see is him withher. Wanting so badly to erase the images that are taunting me, I push myself into him in an attempt to spur even a shred of passion.

“Whoa, don’t get too worked up,” he lightly jokes as he pulls back. “What’d you put in your coffee?”

Sometimes he makes me feel so stupid.

My response is curt, “Nothing. Just forget it.”

“What’s wrong now?”

I gather my belongings and dodge the fight that’s brewing by avoiding the true issue at hand. “Lack of sleep. I’m just exhausted and running late.”

“Okay. Be careful driving.”

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I barely peck Tripp on the cheek. “Will I see you when I get off work?”

“I have a four o’clock meeting with Bradford.”

“In the city?”

“Yes. Dad wanted to come, so I agreed to meet them there.”

“Well, try not to stay too late. The snow is forecasted to start around four.”

With a fleeting kiss, I’m out the door and on my way to Georgetown. I’m able to suppress my irritation, but it always has a way of quietly brewing inside me. The once vibrant girl who lived on life’s euphoria is now a thirty-nine-year-old who can only find diminishing glimpses of the rapture that once was.

“Good morning, Mrs. Montgomery. I watched your husband’s speech on TV yesterday. For an old guy, he’s kinda hot,” Jenny says when I walk into the waiting room of my office.

Jenny is a freshman who answers the phones and schedules appointments through the university’s work-study program.

“Old? Really, Jenny?” I tease the perky nineteen-year-old.

“You know what I mean.”

I laugh as I pick up a stack of mail that’s on the filing cabinet. “Well, enjoy your youth beforethingsstart to droop.”

“O-M-G! That’s so gross.”

“Tell me about it.”

This time, we both laugh as I make my way into my office to check emails before my first appointment arrives.

Emma

“That’s it,” I exhaust as I toss the letter onto my bed. “That was the last one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Luca. I’m sure. I’ve applied for every loan, scholarship, and grant that I’m eligible for.” The burning heat of tears threatens. “I don’t know what else I can do. This isn’t fair.”

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