Page 7 of Not the Plan

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Two hours later, apartment situated and back at the hotel to check out, he was loading his bags into the trunk when his phone rang again. It was on the front seat; he didn’t reach it in time. The missed call was the same number from that morning, and again, no message.

If you can’t be bothered to leave a message, I’m not calling you back.

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That evening, he took a stroll through Midtown Sacramento. He was settled in his new place, fridge stocked, and clothes set aside for the next day. His phone rang again, the same number he didn’t recognize.

“Finally,” a woman said when he answered.

His vision blurred, and he caught his footing with a brief staccato step. But he kept moving forward. Moving forward down the street, as he was determined to keep moving forward in his life.

“Raniya,” he said, his mouth cotton, but his voice strong.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t want to talk to your dear sister-in-law.” If there was a silver lining to his wife’s abandoning him, it was that he didn’t have to deal with her smug sister anymore.

“As I’m sure you can understand, certain events led me to delete certain contacts from my phone. Had I known it was you, I would have avoided wasting my time and yours by answering.”

“Now, Karim. That’s no way to speak to your family.”

“We aren’t family anymore, Raniya. We haven’t been for some time.” He stopped at the window of an Italian restaurant. Inside, a man who looked like a younger version of himself sat across a table from a woman with long dark hair and golden skin.

Watch yourself,he wanted to warn the guy.

“I must say, we’re rather disappointed in you. Running off like this.”

His bark of a laugh ricocheted across the street.

“ ‘Running off,’ Raniya? Me? That’s rich. We all know exactly who did the running. And the cheating. The raging and the gaslighting. And who remained faithful to his vows until he’d had enough of the abuse. Don’t call me again.”

Raniya was still talking as he ended the call and put his phone in his pocket. He continued walking, trying to discover the neighborhood, to get his bearings in the new place. But it was impossible. His mind was back in Harrisburg, remembering the zombie he’d become once he understood Laila wasn’t coming back. At the gate, he fumbled with the keys. He got to his apartment and stretched out on the couch, returning to the work he’d done with his therapist in Michigan after staying in Pennsylvania became too much.

Laila’s personality disorder is not a justification for her cruelty. She knew it was her problem but demanded that I shield her from the consequences of her choices. But you can’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. When she left, I made the necessary choice to protect myself by not chasing after her. She abandoned our relationship when I refused to keep abandoning myself.He drew in the needed breath.

In the shower, washing away the contact with Raniya and the accompanying memories of Laila, he remembered something else he’d discussed with his therapist—the idea of moving on, of trusting another woman again. In Harrisburg, it had been impossible. The town wasn’t enormous, the dating pool microscopic. Celibacy wasn’t a goal, but his commitment to his vows kept him from anything past a first date. Back home in Grosse Pointe, he’d had zero interest. Despite his family’s best efforts, he wasn’t up to it, and he never knew when he might run into his in-laws or friends of theirs. He hadn’t had the slightest desire until yesterday. Until Isadora. She was beautiful, with dark, almond-shaped eyes to go with her glowing almond skin. High cheekbones, an adorable round nose, and full, appetizing lips. Her flash of anger had been sexy. Real sexy. The heat in her cheeks from the shock tinged the rich depth of her skin. He wasn’t sure what he’d said to her asshe raced away. However, he had a clear memory of checking her out, without hesitation.

Maybe I should have shared with Khalil; he’d be proud.He grinned as he toweled off.

When he’d reached his seat on the plane, he’d asked himself if it was a setup. During the flight, he didn’t know what had come over him once he’d had an excuse to get her to take her earbuds out. It had been years since he’d flirted. He wished he’d gotten her number, but he wasn’t ready.

Don’t beat yourself up. It goes in the “win” column anyway because you sure didn’t get onto the plane with the idea that you could flirt. This is a good step—it means you’re further along than you thought. It’s a shame you won’t see her again, though.

CHAPTER THREE

Isadora

Closing the mini fridge in the outer office, Isadora added coffee creamer and green goddess dressing to her mental grocery list as she opened a bottled water.

“Ms. Maris?” A young man she didn’t recognize tapped on the open door leading to the hall.

“Yes,” she said, smiling as she approached.

He slid two file folders off the stack he was carrying and handed them to her.

“From Senate Administration,” he said. “HR stuff, I think.”

She thanked him and returned to her office. The job posting for Isadora’s new Sacramento assistant had been fruitful. Melissa, Daniel’s legislative director back in district, had already narrowed down the pool of applicants from thirty to five and made her suggestions. Isadora trusted her judgment, but when it came to the people she’d have to get up and running quickly, Isadora needed to complete the final interviews herself.

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