My words come out in desperation, and I can clearly see Mrs. Montgomery’s sympathy, which bothers me because I don’t want people feeling sorry for me.
When the hour is up, she assures that our standing appointment will remain.
Carly
It’s evident how upset and disappointed Emma is about losing her scholarship. If there were anything I could do for her, I would do it. But it wouldn’t be ethical. I just hate seeing her dreams being crushed right in front of her eyes.
I have two more appointments on the schedule today, and as the hours pass, the sky darkens with thick, low-hanging snow clouds.
“Jenny,” I call through my opened office door.
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you go on before the snow gets worse?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I have a few more things to take care of, but then I’ll be leaving myself.”
Jenny gathers her belongings and pokes her head inside my office before heading out, asking, “What about tomorrow?”
“If the campus doesn’t close, I’ll email you and let you know if I’ll be coming in.”
“Okay. Be careful driving home,” she says as she wraps her scarf around her neck.
“You too, Jenny.”
When the door closes, I pull out my cell and call Tripp.
“William Montgomery,” he answers formally, which irritates me to no end.
“Yes, I know. Didn’t my name pop up on your phone?”
“Hi, sweetheart. Sorry, I didn’t even notice.”
His lack of attention, being purposeful or not, scratches through the soft scab the day was able to form over our earlier rift.
“I’m heading home in a few minutes. Are you still having that meeting later?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t you reschedule? The weather is turning bad.”
“No reason to reschedule. If the roads get too bad, I’ll get a room for the night,” he tells me distractedly before talking to someone else.
“Well, what time do you think you’ll be home?”
He continues talking to whomever is in the room with him before responding, “Honey, I’m swamped right now. Can we talk later?”
“Sure.”
I toss my phone into my handbag, frustrated that, once again, his work is more important than I am.
The drive takes longer than usual with the heavy snow, and when I finally make it home, I’m exhausted. I change out of my work clothes, heat up some leftovers for dinner, and get lost in mindless television. The house is empty and quiet as I make my way upstairs to lie down. It’s now close to ten thirty, and I’ve yet to hear from Tripp. I should be worried, but I’m too busy being annoyed, wondering what’s so hard about sending a text to let me know he’s running late. This type of annoyance isn’t anything new. Tripp has made a habit out of staying out late these past few months, claiming that the upcoming campaign is taking up more of his time than he expected. I used to buy into his lies, but I know all too well that it isn’t his job that’s keeping him out so late.
There was a time I was his priority. Tripp used to make me feel as if nothing mattered more to him than I did. He placed the pedestal in front of my feet, took my hand, and helped me step up. Foolishly, I thought I’d remain there forever, that Tripp would walk through fire to keep me as his priority no matter what anyone else thought.
Closing my eyes, I drift back to when nothing mattered more to Tripp than my happiness.
“Why didn’t you tell me this was what you wanted?” Tears stream down my cheeks when Tripp walks into the bedroom. I take a seat on the bed, entirely distraught as I hold the large manila envelope my soon-to-be mother-in-law gave me when we were out to lunch earlier.
“Baby, what’s the matter?”
Tripp rushes over to the bed, but the moment he reaches for me, I slap the envelope against his chest, shoving him away. He stumbles back, shock clear in his eyes as he catches the envelope before it can fall.
“What happened? Why are you crying?”
“You honestly thought this wouldn’t upset me? If this was what you wanted, why couldn’t you have talked to me about it in private instead of having your mother do it for you?” The words rip out of me harshly.
“Do what?”
“Do you have any idea how humiliated I was to have my future mother-in-law tell me that my fiancé wanted me to sign a prenup?”
At my words, his hands move fast, ripping open the envelope. His eyes skitter across the first page as his neck reddens in anger.
“I never . . . baby, I promise, I didn’t know anything about this,” he insists as he sets the papers down.
Looking over my splotchy face, he sits on the edge of the bed in our brand-new home and pulls me in next to him. He holds my face and wipes my tears, assuring, “I have never, not once, considered a prenup. The thought never even crossed my mind because that isn’t what you are to me. Nothing about you and me is a business deal. I’m in this for life because you are all I will ever want in this world.”
He speaks firmly, needy for me to believe him, and I do. I can see the truth in his worried eyes.
His hands cup my cheeks, and I grip his wrists to hold him to me, needing to rest in his comfort. The comfort of his words, but mostly, the comfort of his touch. When he pulls me closer and presses his lips to my forehead, my body sinks into the heat of him.
Minutes pass in silence as I allowed him to soothe me before my voice cracks, asking, “Do your parents not like me?”
“Baby, no. Don’t think that.”
“Then why?” Pulling back, I look him in the eyes, desperate for understanding.
“I’m sure her heart was in the right place. She was probably thinking she was protecting me.”
“Protecting you from what? From me?”
“I’m not defending her. What she did was out of line, but she and my father . . . they aren’t like us. They don’t have what we have. But I don’t want you to think that my parents don’t love you. They do.”
I know Tripp isn’t being honest. One time, while at their house for dinner, I overheard his parents telling Tripp they were worried about me not fitting into their family. Tripp defended me. He doesn’t care that I didn’t grow up with the upper echelon, didn’t care that I graduated from a state university instead of an Ivy League, didn’t care that I worked a job that would never pay our bills. He once told me I was the most authentic person he had ever met, that my love was the purest he’d ever known.
He opened up to me, admitting he had dated his fair share of women before me, but that they were just consumed with the idea of becoming Mrs. William Montgomery III. He saw the spark of living the “good life” in their eyes. Their love was one of agenda.
I’ve never asked for anything from him. I was happy and content living in my one-bedroom flat in the city. I don’t care about his name. To me, he’s simply Tripp Montgomery—a guy who’s head-over-heels in love with a girl—me.
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.