Page 41 of Not the Plan

“Wow,” he said, offering her his arm.

“Thank you,” she giggled, accepting it.

—

His car was waiting at the curb.

“Where to?” he asked, changing gears, pulling onto the street.

“Somewhere small. Far. Far away from everyone.”

“I know just the place.”

He changed lanes, taking the direction of the freeway.

“AC, windows, or top down?” he asked.

“AC, please,” she said.

He flicked on both the AC and the radio. The road connected with the freeway and he accelerated to merge. He was paying attention to the traffic but had to fight another moment of doubt. The push-pull was intense. This was what he’d wanted for weeks. But it was the exact opposite of what he’d done for years.

This is skipping at least eight steps on my plan. If things get weird, she’s got enough clout to make a new professional start very difficult. If Julian finds out, I could lose my job. And I’m not…totally back tomeyet.

She sighed, drawing his attention. She’d closed her eyes and settled into the passenger seat.

If she’s that relaxed, she must trust me, at least a little. If she’s willing to trust me, I should try to trust her in return.

“Too chilly?” he asked.

“No,” Isadora said, smiling at him. “Don’t worry, everything’s perfect.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

—

After a few miles, he took an exit, taking them closer to the ocean. He turned onto a side street and pulled the car up in front of a jazz club.

“I’d heard about this place, but I’ve never been here before,” she said as he held the club’s door open for her. “Do you come often?”

“Been here a few times. Haven’t ever seen anyone from work.”

“Good.”

The club was small, with live music, a dance floor, and a few tables and booths on a higher platform. It was busy but not packed.

“Would you like to take a seat?” He motioned toward the tables at the edge of the dance floor.

“Yes, but…Not over there. Somewhere more private?”

He wanted to put his hand on her cheek, to smooth away the nervousness written all over her face. A clap of cold thunder exploded inside him. The last woman he’d wanted to comfort that way had cast him aside. His therapist’s words came back to him:

Laila’s choices were hers alone.

Karim chose to stay in the present. “Over there?” He pointed to the booths along the wall. She nodded, and he led her over to one that gave them a good view of the stage and the dance floor. There was a small candle on the table, but other than that, the little corner was dark.

“Is this okay?”

“Perfect,” she said.

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