Page 23 of Oliver
"I've ordered takeout," she said, gesturing to the kitchen. "Should be here in twenty minutes. In the meantime, we should go over the plan for the upcoming week.”
"Efficient," I nodded, setting my laptop bag down. "Let's start with the schedule."
This was good. Professional. Focused. No acknowledgment of my illness or what might have been said during it. We could pretend none of it had happened.
Zahra pulled out a leather-bound planner from her bag and opened it on the coffee table.
"I've mapped the week," she explained, flipping through meticulously organized pages. "Who I’m with, where I am, when texting would have maximum impact, what to write.”
I leaned forward, scanning the color-coded spreadsheet. Everything was arranged with precision that rivaled my ownorganizational tendencies, and each day was broken down into hourly segments with notes on locations, company, and messaging times.
"This is comprehensive," I said, genuinely impressed by her thoroughness.
"I'm a wedding planner," she reminded me with a slight smile. "Organization is kind of my thing."
The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of dinner. We ate as we continued reviewing our texting schedule, adjusting it as we went.
"Your brother's welcome to join us for the wedding, by the way," Zahra said casually between bites.
The unexpected offer caught me off guard. "Emmet?"
"Unless you have another brother I don't know about." When I didn't respond, she added, "He seemed worried about you going back to Norman alone."
Alone. I almost laughed. I’d been handling everything life had thrown at me alone for years. I could handle Norman alone for a couple of weeks.
"He's not coming." The words came out clipped, defensive.
Zahra looked up, surprise crossing her features at my harsh tone. "I thought he might want to see some of his old friends."
"Emmet doesn't have friends in Norman."
"What about your parents? Don't they still?—"
"No." I cut her off. "They don't."
"Okay,” she said slowly, setting down her pen. “What should I say if someone asks about him?"
The thought of Zahra fielding questions about Emmet sent a surge of panic through me. Those were exactly the conversations I needed to avoid.
"You say nothing." I was struggling to keep my voice measured. "Emmet isnotpart of our arrangement."
"People will remember him as Laura," she said carefully. "If your extended family or old classmates ask?—"
"They won't," I interrupted. "And if they do, you deflect. Say you don't know. Say whatever you need to leave Emmet out of it."
"This isn't about prying into your personal life, Oliver, it’s about preparing for every possible scenario."
"Is it?" I raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over my chest. Whatever Zahra thought she knew about my life, she didn’t. She didn’t get a free pass under the pretense we were playing. Not to Emmet. "The contract specifically restricts personal questions about my current circumstances. My brother falls squarely under that provision."
"Stop trying to hide behind the contract." Her voice rose sharply, a note of frustration cutting through her words. "I'm not asking as your client, I'm asking as someone who's about to spend two weeks pretending to be your girlfriend in your hometown. I need to know what landmines I might step on."
“Emmet is off limits!” I yelled, shooting up from my seat and turning my back on Zahra, my fingers running through my hair as I fought to gain control of my breathing.
It was labored, my chest heavy, my head slightly foggy. I was still fighting off the remnants of my cold, and my body was betraying me, fraying my usual composur and control.
“He’s stronger than you give him credit for.”
I turned to her with a scoff. “You know nothing about him.”
