Page 9 of Am I the Only One

Later in the evening, I overhear Tripp on the phone in his study. I listen to him as he raises his voice in disapproval to his mother, chastising her for going behind his back and upsetting me. My heart swells in knowing that, no matter what, Tripp has my back and supports me.

While Tripp is still on the phone with his mother, I pull out the contract that outlines the provisions should we ever divorce. I skim the pages and, even though Tripp is against having a prenup, even though I am against it, I sign anyway. The last thing I want is for anyone to think I am after the Montgomery money or that I have any ill intentions. But there’s something else to me signing, something that makes me feel a step ahead of Eloise, that, aside from the fact that she’s been caught and berated by her son, I know I’m not signing the contract out of persuasion or intimidation. I’m signing of my own free will.

The dip of the mattress stirs me back to the present. I can smell the faint scent of Tripp’s cologne as he lies on the opposite side of the bed.

Tired of feeling lonely and neglected, I give in to my irritation and mutter beneath my breath, “You could’ve called.”

“Stop.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s late, and I’m tired.” His tone is that of annoyance, which instantly pisses me off because I’m the only one with a reason to be annoyed.

My frustrations seep out as I roll over and mumble under my breath, “You always have an excuse.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Go to bed if you’re tired.”

“Carly, it’s two o’clock. I’ve been working all day,” he shoots back.

“Well, maybe you should stop working so late. Then you wouldn’t be too tired to spend time withyour wife.”

Tripp turns the lamp on and tempers flare.

“You really want to go there, Carly?”

“It’s been four weeks.”

“What’s been four weeks?”

Tossing the covers off me, I sit up and glare at him before snapping, “Since we’ve had sex, Tripp!”

“This again? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been working my ass off. And let me tell you something else, your constant insinuations that I’m not being honest or faithful is a fucking turnoff.”

I lose my composure as anger bursts from within. “You seem to have enough time for Olivia.”

“Nothing worse than an insecure wife who has too much time on her hands.”

“I saw you!” I accuse, sitting up and looking down on him. “What were you doing with her alone and on the opposite side of the house with her last night?”

This has him pushing up to sit next to me. “If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t come home to you every night.”

“If you wanted me, you’d have sex with me, touch me, kiss me,something! And I’m not talking about a staged, closed-mouth kiss to impress your constituentsor get votes.”

We continue slinging our words back and forth, pressing each other’s buttons and hitting below the belt. But just because I’ve never outright caught him in the act, it doesn’t mean I don’t know that he’s cheating.

I’ve found questionable texts on his phone, the lingering scent of women’s perfume on his shirts, and after he changed his password to his email accounts, I knew he was hiding something.

“I just feel so far away from you,” I confess, finally lowering my voice and giving up on the fight.

“I’m right here. Life is busy and stressful, but I’m here, and I need you. I need your support.”

“You say you need me, but I need you too.”

“It won’t always be like this.”

I don’t believe him, though. I sense myself approaching my end with him and our marriage that has turned into a joke. It takes everything in me to keep the peace and not lash out at him on a daily basis.