Page 70 of Am I the Only One

“So, this is what I get when I work too much?” he teases. “Maybe I should work even harder.”

“Don’t even think about it.” I chuckle as I slide off him and lie on my back, my skin still dewy.

I watch as Tripp walks into the bathroom, admiring his naked, fit body, and wonder if we can get back on track with our relationship. I want to be hopeful, but I don’t know where his head is at—where it’s been—and for how long. For some time, it’s as if I’m on the outside looking in.

When Tripp reemerges wearing a pair of athletic pants and a T-shirt, he gives me a tender kiss on my forehead. He then bends and picks up the thong I bought just for him. It dangles from his finger as he looks at me with sinful eyes.

I smile.

“I’ll call in dinner,” he says before shoving the panties into his pocket and heading downstairs.

Butterflies.

That’s what he just gave me, and my smile grows even bigger. Maybe this is our turning point. Maybe the reminder of what we are when we’re together was what we needed.

“Is Italian okay?” he hollers from downstairs.

“Sounds perfect,” I respond as I pick up my phone to see it’s past nine o’clock and I have a missed text from a few hours ago. I must’ve been so distracted with shopping and getting ready that I never even heard my phone buzz. I swipe the screen to see the message came from Emma.

Emma: Tripp called me today. We need to talk.

Carly

My stomach hollows as I stare at the text, wondering if she even took the call, and if she did, what did they talk about? I told her I no longer wanted her involved with my husband and to cut all ties with him, but what if she didn’t? And even worse, what if she doesn’t want to?

Tripp is a charming man, one who I easily fell in love with, so who’s to say she didn’t allow herself to develop feelings for him as well?

No.

I shake that thought right out of my head. After all, they’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks.

Still naked, I walk over to the door to hear Tripp on the phone placing our dinner order before tiptoeing into the bathroom. Closing the door, I grab the robe that’s hanging behind it and slip it on. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I know I won’t be able to wait until tomorrow to talk to her. I tap on her name, and when the phone begins ringing, I step over to the tub and sit on the edge.

“Hello?”

“Emma, hi,” I say in a hushed voice. “I just got your text. You said we needed to talk.”

“Are you okay? You sound—”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just that Tripp is downstairs, so we need to be quick,” I tell her.

“Like I said, he called me earlier today and wanted to know if we could get together and talk after his lunch with Senator McAvoy.”

“You took his call? I told you not to answer or reply to his texts anymore.”

“I’m sorry, I know. But I was out with friends and was distracted. I honestly didn’t even look to see who was calling before I answered.”

Knowing I’m pinched for time, I rush her. “It’s fine. What happened?”

“All he said was that he needed to talk. I know you don’t want me interacting with him, but he sounded ... I don’t know ...off. I figured what harm would it do to just talk, so I met up with him. Turned out that he didn’t want to talk at all ...”

She leaves her words hanging, and suddenly, my appetite vanishes. “What happened?”

“We had sex.”

Blood drains from my head, and I’m forced to drop it between my knees so I don’t pass out. My fingers clench the phone when I ask, “Where?”

“In the parking garage at his office. We were in the back seat of his SUV,” she explains, stammering a little. “I don’t know. It all happened so fast, and I guess I got carried away.”

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