Page 122 of Not the Plan

Isadora turned the laptop around so Julian could see the still frame. On the screen was Daria, her naked back to the camera. She was facing Julian as he zipped up his pants. Isadora looked over Julian’s shoulder at Karim. She watched as he caught sight ofthe thing that had flooded her with regret when she’d seen it the night before: Daria had a tattoo on her left shoulder. A bird.

—

The morning turned into a blur. Police officers came, Julian was arrested, statements were taken. Daniel went to the sitting pro tem and suggested a recess for that day. Despite his and Isadora’s efforts to keep things quiet, word about blackmail and recordings spread through both the senate and the assembly. Isadora’s phones never stopped ringing.

But the one person she needed to talk to was just as besieged as she was. There was only one way to get to talk to him face-to-face.

Isadora:Can I see you tonight?

Karim:Of course. I’m headed home now, but I can meet you somewhere.

Isadora:Can I come to your place? When things calm down here?

Karim:Of course.

Isadora:Great. Thanks.

Karim:My pleasure, Isadora.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Isadora

Isadora caught herself fidgeting on Karim’s doorstep again. She’d come straight from work, not wanting to waste any time getting to him after the day they’d had. Wisps of hair tickled her neck and ears. She worried she might have gotten too warm from all the stress, but it didn’t matter. She had to try to make things right.

“Coming!” he shouted from deep in his apartment. She was glad he said something; she’d started to worry she might have beaten him there. She glanced to the side, down the hallway of his building. His door swung open.

“Hi,” he said, out of breath.

“Hi…” she exhaled. He’d been in the shower. His glasses were a little foggy; his hair was wet. There were beads of moisture on his skin. He’d thrown on a white T-shirt, but he hadn’t dried himself off well and it stuck to him in various places, outlining the detail of a pectoral muscle here, a biceps there. Isadora’s gasp escaped, her whole body exploding with burning tingles. The towel around his waist that he had to hold closed did not help. She clutched her purse strap with both hands to avoid hiding her eyes.

“Sorry,” he said. “Wanted to grab a quick shower before you got here.”

“My fault,” she said. “I should have guessed when you didn’t reply to my text.”

“No worries. Would you like to come in?”

“Thanks,” she said, stepping inside.

He closed the door and led her into the living room. “Gimme a sec?” he asked.

“Sure.” She nodded, grateful for a minute to get herself under control.

“Thanks. Make yourself comfy.”

She nodded again as he returned to the bathroom. The TV was on, tuned in to ESPN, and there was an almost empty beer bottle on the table. Sitting on the couch, she smiled and rolled her eyes.ESPN and beer, such a guy. He’s one of a kind, but a little predictable. It’s cute.She smiled again. Then her face fell.And I treated him like…trash. Oh my God, I tossed him away just like she did.She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle the gasp.He opened up to me, and I did the exact same thing. I am a horrible person. I can’t—

“Hey,” he said as he returned, dry and dressed. He joined her on the couch, sliding his hands under his thighs again.

“Karim, I am so, so sorry. I failed you, I was wrong, I—”

“No! I failed you,” he said.

“What? How?” His awkward position caught her eye, but it didn’t register. She was too busy trying to corral the scattering marbles of her emotions.

“I endangered your goal.” His forearms clenched, like he was repositioning his hands, but he kept them pinned down.What is he doing?She wrenched her focus back to his words.

“I drafted that amendment,” he said. “But I didn’t check it again before it was filed, I—”

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