Page 21 of Not the Plan

Fear popped up. A tiny light warning of the danger of being hurt. He didn’t want to go there, so he stretched out on the couch and flicked on the TV. But Isadora haunted him. While waiting for the water for his tea, she’d returned to talk with him, leaning against the doorjamb. The curve of her hips had seared into his memory. Her light blue sweater had been fitted enough to make his mouth dry.

After the two hours he’d wasted at Ike’s, he wanted some way to reach out, some excuse to contact her before their meeting the coming week. Her work email had to be available in the internal database. He put down the remote and picked up his work phone, rolling it in his hands.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Isadora

Saturday evening, RJ dragged Isadora to the movies. Finding themselves in a sea of teenagers, she’d balked at the choice and tried to leave. But she’d gotten sucked into the film, laughing enough to wipe away the occasional tear.

“Okay,” she said, stepping into the Sacramento evening. “It was funny. The premise was stupid, but it was funny.”

RJ linked his arm in hers. “Exactly. Pointless, improbable, and I nearly wet myself. What’s next? Drinks or straight to dinner?” She tried to pull away, but he snapped her back against him. “Which?”

“Drinks sound good, but I need to at least look over—”

RJ smashed his index finger to her lips. “No.”

“But—”

“No. No work. This is what is colloquially known as a week-end,” he said, gesturing with his free hand. “It is the end of the week, one of two days people do not go to work, or do work-related things. You know I love you, and we both love what we do. And not to get all heavy, but you are not avoiding your mother’s mistakes by being a workaholic and not taking a break from work on theweek-end.You know this. You cannot live your entire life trying not to be your mother.”

She chewed on her lip. The criticism was fair, and his point completely correct, but she couldn’t go there right now.

“Fine. You’re right. But it couldn’t hurt to take a look at—”

“No.” He kept striding forward, pulling her along.

“Fine. Dinner. I wanna choose to sleep in tomorrow, not do it because I’m hungover.”

—

Settling in at a Chinese restaurant, she put her work phone beside her plate on autopilot.

“I said—” RJ began.

“Sorry!” She picked it up to put it away, jumping as it buzzed in her hand. A gasp escaped at the notification.

“What?” RJ asked.

“It’s from Karim. An email.”

“What’s it about?”

“I have permission to check?” she asked.

“If it’s from Mr. Sexy Pants, of course.”

She rolled her eyes at RJ as she opened the email. “It’s about the freeway bill.”

“He’s working on that? On a Saturday night? Gah. He’s even worse than you.”

The waiter took their order and Isadora bunched her lips at her phone.

“Remorse about your choice?”

“No,” she said. “Weird question from Karim. He asked if we have to go through the Environmental Quality committee. And if so, why not do that as a separate bill? Revamping large parts of the freeway system is obviously going to impact the environment. There shouldn’t be anything for him to be confused about.”

“Is he a beautiful idiot? I brought the last one home. Maybe it’s your turn.”

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