Page 4 of Not the Plan

“All right,” she said, nodding.

He shifted toward her, then tapped a finger to his lips as though he was thinking. She noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.

There’s no reason to notice that. No time for men right now.

He glanced back at her.

“Got it,” he said. “You’re a therapist.”

“A therapist?” she asked. “What makes you say that?”

He tilted his head to the side, glancing down to her chin and back up to her eyes.

“You seem like a warm, caring person. Easy to talk to.”

She raised an eyebrow. That was a lot to assume from their brief conversation.

“And,” he said, “I bet you don’t like talking about it because people either ask you to break confidentiality forinteresting stories,or they take one look into your inviting eyes and want to talk about all their troubles.”

She flushed a little. Karim-the-demigod thought she had inviting eyes.

“You’re very kind,” she said. “I’m not a therapist. But—”

The plane slammed downward, and Isadora clutched the armrests until her knuckles burned. A hard shift to the right and the pilot turned on the fasten seat belt lights.

“Passengers, this is your captain speaking. You’ll have to excuse us. We’ve hit a patch of turbulence and there’s likely more ahead. We still have a while to go before we reach our destination, and the ride is going to be bumpy. The crew will come by and pick up any garbage you may have. Please stow your belongings and put your trays in the upright position.”

The flight attendant was next to them in a flash, with a forced customer service smile that didn’t reach his eyes. A woman behind Isadora gasped as the plane shuddered and bounced. The flight attendant stopped a moment, his hand clamped, bracing himself, on the seat in front of Karim.“Brace.” That’s the word they use when we crash.Roiling nausea splashed through Isadora as she passed the flight attendant her empty cup with quaking hands. Karim tried to make eye contact as she followed the pilot’s instructions.

“This part sucks, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “It does.” She stuffed her earbuds back in, doing her best to show “fine” and “experienced” body language, crossing her arms and repeating her mantra in her mind. He hadn’t given her a reason to believe he would judge her, but she had to conceal fear. Raised by a perpetual victim, Isadora had learned to appear fine when she wasn’t, lest she take attentionaway from the person it always belonged to. Hiding any emotion was second nature.

—

Karim didn’t speak to her again until the plane landed. She wanted to say something nice to him while collecting her things, but she needed to move with focus to avoid crying out her pent-up fear. His belongings in hand, he stepped into the aisle and smiled.

“Nice meeting you, Isadora.”

“You too,” she stammered, avoiding eye contact as he left. She let at least ten people get ahead of her and stayed out of his sight at the luggage carousel. In the privacy of her rental car, a good, long cry released the anxiety and adrenaline. Still shaking, she drove to the apartment that would be her home during the legislative session.

That evening, in bed, grocery shopping done and bags unpacked, she had time for regret. Karim was nice, attentive, and damn sexy. Flirting with him made her want more.

Nice job, Isa. You could have at least gotten his number. But it’s probably for the best. This session is crucial, you must remain focused. No sense in letting a pretty face distract you.

CHAPTER TWO

Karim

Karim waited in the conference room of the Sacramento office of State Senator Julian Brown. His potential new boss was in the hallway with Christina, the legislative director he would be replacing during her maternity leave. This second interview had gone even better than the Zoom call while Karim was still in Michigan. The only hitch was the length of the position. Covering for a maternity leave wasn’t ideal; he was looking for something long-term to start his new life.

You’re in a rebuilding stage. It’s okay. Just get your foot in the door and see what permanent opportunities present themselves.

Once he’d been admitted to the California State Bar, and with his experience as a senior aide, something would come together. The conference room door snapped open, and Senator Brown walked back in, Christina following with a small stack of papers.

“Well, young man, welcome to the team.” He offered his hand. Karim stood to accept it.

“Thank you,” he said. “Can’t wait to get started.”

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