Page 97 of Am I the Only One

About an hour later, the cab is pulling up to the hotel. When we come to a stop, I pull out my wallet to pay the exorbitant fair, and cringe when I realize I don’t have enough cash.

“You okay?” the driver questions, watching me in the reflection of his rearview mirror.

“No, I’m fine,” I respond.

A tidal wave of panic crashes down on me when I swipe my credit card through the reader, all the while praying this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

Once inside the hotel, my first stop is the restroom, where I check myself in the mirror. My face is splotchy, and my eyes are bloodshot, but I can’t fix either of those things. What I can do is cover them with a lie. Quickly, I wash my hands and splash some cold water on my face before going to the front desk.

“Welcome to The Jefferson,” the young woman greets. “Are you checking in?”

“No, my husband, William Montgomery, and I are staying in one of your suites,” I say as I slide my driver’s license to her. “I’ve misplaced my room key and can’t remember our room number. I’ve tried calling, but his cellphone must be turned off.”

“No problem, Mrs. Montgomery. Give me just one second,” she says, buying my lie as she punches away at the keys of her computer. She then activates a new keycard and hands it to me inside an envelope with the room number written down.

“Thank you so much.”

“Enjoy your night.”

I take the elevator up to his floor, and as I’m making my way down the long corridor to his suite, I see Olivia walking toward me. When she lifts her attention from her phone, I catch her eye but neither of us say anything as we pass each other. Looking over my shoulder, my bleak heart reminds me that I’m not the only one, but that’s a burden I can no longer stray away from. I’m on the brink of destruction, and he’s the only one I have to hang on to. I may be second best or even third, but it’s better than nothing at all.

When I knock, he answers, and I begin to cry.

“What are you doing here?”

I fall into his arms, the mere sight of him awakes everything inside me, and I just need him to hold me.

“I’m sorry for not calling first,” I quietly weep. “But I just needed to see you.”

We walk into the living room and take a seat on the couch together before he does exactly what I need him to do; he wraps his arms around me and holds me against him.

“What’s going on? Why are you upset?”

“I’ve just ... I’ve been sitting at home thinking about how we’ve gotten so off track,” I tell him, saying what I think he will easily believe. “And I realize that it was me. That I’ve been the cause of us falling apart, and I’m so sorry.”

“Carly, no. You can’t blame this on yourself. You aren’t the sole cause at all.”

“I am. I know how hard you work and how much you do for me, and I let my insecurities get the better of me. I feel so horrible for all the accusations I’ve made against you.”

“Look at me,” he says, holding my face between his hands. “One thing you need to know is that I love you—you—and no one else. But I’m to blame as well. I never knew how busy this campaign would keep me, and I hate that my crazy schedule and long hours have been so difficult on you.”

“I just want us to go back to when we were happy and not fighting all the time.”

He releases a heavy sigh with a hint of a smile. “I do too. I miss you, and I miss us.”

And with that, he kisses me. I take it greedily because, if what happened tonight ever gets traced back to me, I’m going to need him by my side. Without him, I don’t have a fighting chance to save myself and avoid spending the rest of my life behind bars. So, I vow to be the best wife I can no matter how much I have to sacrifice.

Luca

I expect to see Emma’s car when I pull into the drive, but it isn’t here. After a second, I remember telling her to call me, but when I check my cell, there’s nothing. Last night got a little crazy with my friends, and I wound up getting too drunk to drive home, so I crashed at my buddy’s house.

I’m already calling her cell when I walk through the front door, but it goes straight to voice mail.

“Em,” I call out, but there’s no response, and when I go into her room, her bed doesn’t look as if she slept in it.

It’s only seven thirty, so it isn’t inconceivable that she’s out grabbing breakfast. While I wait for her to return, I jump in the shower and clean up, even though I feel like complete ass.

As I’m brewing coffee, I try calling her again, but still, it goes right to her voice mail. It’s now after eight o’clock. If she ran out to grab food, she’d be home by now. Worry creeps in, and when I take a sip of my coffee, I think back to last night. She was at Carly’s house, but where is she now?

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