Page 65 of Not the Plan

Karim:I’m just playing along.

He couldn’t stay much longer. He was about to give up when he had another response.

Isadora:K

“K”? Just “K”? Does that mean she’s mad? Does that mean she doesn’t care? Does that mean she’s okay with me flirting with someone else?

Dazed, he left the restroom.He had the presence of mind not to look at her as he passed but couldn’t wrap his mind around her reaction. Maybe she was a silent angry. Cold. He had years ofexperience dealing with silent angry. Well, initially silent. He made a detour at the bar before returning to Julian and the rest.

Screw another forty-five minutes. Twenty more and I’m out of here.He slid back in next to Sarah, draped his arm behind her like before, and joined in the joking. He felt like a buffoon, a court jester. Daria was taking up more and more of Julian’s attention, so Karim’s departure might be easier than anticipated. A slight shift in position gave him a clear view of Isadora. Her waiter arrived with the glass of Riesling Karim had sent. She looked up, surprised, and then shook her head as they exchanged a few words. But then Sarah leaned into him, hard, too friendly, whispering an invitation into his ear. And he pulled his attention back to the lie he’d gotten himself into.

“I’m sorry, what?” he had to ask Sarah. He hoped he’d added enough of a slur. Julian was watching again, so he paid closer attention.

“I said, this is getting a little boring, isn’t it? I bet we could find more interesting things to do.” She was too close, her breast pressing into his side.

He nodded. “I’m sure we could, but I’m gonna have to call it a night pretty soon.” Sarah pouted, and Daria leaned toward him.

She looked him up and down and bit her lip. “Oh, come on, I’m sure we can make it worth missing a little sleep.”

He sighed inside. His reaction to that lip bite was one hundred eighty degrees from his reaction to Isadora’s. Searching for a reply, he caught the waiter returning to the bar with the full glass of Riesling on his tray.

—

He got home. Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he hesitated before placing it next to his keys on the counter. Then he scooped it up again, to reread her last messages, as though they might have changed.

One question mark, one “K,” and that acidic ache was back, the one he’d hoped had gotten lost somewhere over Nebraska. Two characters and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop likea hundred times before, when his best efforts to quickly make up for whatever slight Laila had identified resulted in silence followed by her rage.

Changed, brushing his teeth, he glanced at his phone again. Isadora wasn’t like Laila. And even before he’d met her, he’d been over this a thousand times with his therapist. Laila’s stuff was her own. Another woman wouldn’t necessarily behave the same way. Sluggish, he got into bed. He knew it was best to lie down and let his heavy lids close. Sleep would help him order his thoughts the next day, keep exhaustion from letting irrational ideas shove their way to the forefront in moments of doubt. It would be the wisest thing. Instead, he propped himself up against his pillows. The remote was on the nightstand, beside the book he’d started a few days earlier. He picked up his phone again, read her replies, and scrolled up through all their previous conversations. They were essentially dating, at least as much as they could. She was into him, seemed to want more. She’d even said as much in her office before her appointment had arrived. But now, she’d seen him flirting with another woman and she didn’t even care?

Grunting, he switched the phone for the book and turned on the lamp on his nightstand. After reading the same page for the third time, he shoved his glasses up to rub his eyes. But maybe he was wrong. He didn’t know how long she’d been there, what she’d seen.The fake swagger? The two girls at the bar? The other on the way back?In his haste, he’d risen to Julian’s bait. And yeah, his self-esteem had grown since his arrival in California; yeah, it made him confident enough to approach those women, to flirt. But how much of that strength had come from Isadora? The way she looked at him, spoke to him? The electricity that crackled between them, making him risk kissing her when they were going to be interrupted at any moment?

Nah, it wasn’t even a risk. I had to kiss her. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d wanted to.Now, how can she think I’m anything other than some pitiful skirt-chaser, out for conquest after conquest? No wonder she sent the Riesling back.

He needed help. It was midnight, so three in the morning on Friday in Detroit. He wouldn’t wake Khalil for this, but if there was ever a time he needed his twin, it was then. He picked up his phone again and began to type.

—

Late Friday morning, Karim waited for the elevator in the legislative office building. The doors opened and there Isadora was, with RJ. They shared muted greetings as Karim stepped in.

“Oops!” RJ said. “I need this floor.” He leaned across Isadora to push the Door Open button, avoiding her surprised glare.

“I thought you were going with me to Judiciary,” she said. Karim couldn’t tell if the sharpness in her tone was surprise or irritation at RJ for trying to leave them on their own.

“Yeah, sorry. Forgot something.” The elevator doors opened again and RJ scooted out. “Later!”

Isadora looked as lost as Karim was uncertain. He took a deep breath.

“Listen, I get that you’re disappointed,” he said.

“Disappointed?”

“Yeah, in me. From last night.”

Her silence wasn’t helping. In spite of his best efforts and Khalil’s advice, he couldn’t stop himself from filling it.

“I just…” He stopped for another quick breath. “Blunt, honest?”

“Um…yeah?”

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