Page 105 of Not the Plan

As promised, Karim spent the time after breakfast doing his best to bring as much pleasure to his girlfriend as possible. He’d gotten her to a point where he felt like their connection was as deep as it had been before Laila burst in, when his work phone rang.

“Do you want some privacy?” Isadora asked, lifting her head from his chest.

“Please don’t go,” he whispered, nestling her back into him. “It’ll only take a minute.

“Yes, Julian,” he answered. As usual, he tipped the phone away from his ear to protect his hearing.

“Ah, there you are. Listen, wanted to give you a heads-up: The next few weeks are going to be a whirlwind, and I need you ready.”

“Okay,” Karim said, rolling his eyes.

“If the insurance bill passes this week, it means I have enough influence within the majority to cut Daniel’s legs out from under him. And I have you to thank. You and some welcome help from our young woman with the bird tattoo. See you—”

Isadora shot off his chest like a rocket. “What?” she mouthed.

Karim shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” he mouthed back. Julian hung up, so he put the phone back on his nightstand. Isadora was out of the bed and flying to the bathroom.

“Isa, wait!” He snatched his glasses back on.

“ ‘Ouryoung woman with the bird tattoo’? Karim! How could he know that? There are only two people in the entire legislature who know about that, and only one works for Julian!”

She was grabbing her stuff and jamming it into her bag.

“Baby, stop! I don’t know—”

“Don’t you dare ‘baby’ me!” Tears streamed down her face. She jerked her bra back on and tossed through the disturbed comforter. She got into her panties as soon as they tumbled out. “How could you do this, Karim? ‘Welcome help.’ ” She stopped to sniffle. “It’s the amendment, isn’t it? You brought it up all casually last night. ‘I don’t understand what happened.’ You knewexactlywhat, didn’t you? That’s why you had me sign it first, so everyone else would go along.”

“No, please, I seriously haveno ideawhat he’s up to. I tried to figure out what was going on all week, but I didn’t want to say anything to you until I had something useful.”

She stopped dead. “You knew something was wrongall weekand you didn’t say anything to me untillast night?”

It wasn’t until he’d voiced it that he saw how it might look from her perspective.

“Isa, please. I…I didn’t think of it that way.”

She stood in the middle of the bedroom, facing the door, her bag in one hand, jeans in the other. “I’m sorry, Karim, but this is just too much.”

Terror sent ice down his spine. It was happening. The woman he loved was about to leave him, and he didn’t know what to say, how to stop her.

She hiccup-sobbed and wiped the back of her hand across her cheek. “Has this been some sort of game all along? I wouldn’t put it past Julian.” She hiccupped again. “But you?” She turned to look at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “We’re done.” Then she was moving, yanking her jeans on and running out of his bedroom, his apartment, and in all likelihood, his life. He’d followed her into the living room and stood there, stark naked in the silence after she’d slammed the door. A chill slithered over his skin, but rather than coming from outside, the cold came from within.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Isadora

Isadora gave up after the third try. She was just going to have to feel her way to the bathroom. Her eyes were too swollen from crying to get them open. In spite of her stubbing her toe on the way, keeping her eyes shut was a blessing. The cool, white bulbs over the bathroom sink flooded pain through her closed lids and into her temples as soon as she flipped the switch. Leaning over sent an ocean of pain washing through her head, but it was no match for the explosion of grief in her chest.

Don’t.

She’d cried enough the previous night. She splashed cold water on her face, cupped some in each palm and held her palms to her eyes. She’d check the time eventually, to see if it was as close to lunchtime as she thought. Maybe she could convince RJ to come by. She’d need to tell him what happened, but she preferred doing it in private in case she fell apart again.

Her phone was nowhere to be found. She gave up looking for it, then heard a distant buzzing. She had been a mess the night before—it was in the hamper under the clothes she’d stripped off the second she’d locked the door.

Two missed calls from a 404 number. Could have been anyone in her family, but the next part, the 778 was familiar, though she couldn’t remember why. She googled, panicked when the results brought up a hospital near her mother’s house, and called the number back.

“Hi, this is Isadora Maris,” she said, before the person could speak. “Someone called—”

She was cut off by a sharp laugh in the background and someone demanding the phone.

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