Page 2 of The Irresistible Distraction

“Pre-pregnancy it would have been a motorcycle. But I can’t leave OG Tyler with a little orphaned baby.”

“Technically, to be an orphan⁠—”

Maggie waves away my explanation. “Focus, sweetie. Because this right here, your logic and to-do lists and goals journals, is the problem. It’s all you ever do.”

“I volunteer.”

My friend lets out a huff. “I checked last night, and this dry spell of yours has lasted four years.”

Sexy Tourist coughs violently into his hand, and I swear he’s reacting to Maggie, but he’s still got his AirPods on, is vaguely swaying to music.

“Why did you check on that?”

“Too constipated. Couldn’t sleep. Picked a random argument with the man responsible for said state, and of course once Tyler and I were both awake, we had no choice but to search through text receipts⁠—”

“Maggie.” My whisper is tinged with annoyance now. “You promised to stop talking to Tyler about my sex life.”

She points to her belly. “Pregnancy pass. Also, The Mistake was four years ago, meaning you’ve given me very little to talk about . . . for four years.”

My cheeks are flaming as I wave bye to the Shepards, who are shuffling out in that graciously slow and regal way of theirs. I lower my voice, even though there’s no one to hear. “Maybe I already have a very full life outside of . . .” I wave a hand, hoping she’ll fill in the blank with romance, sex, the whole semblance of life thing she seems to think I’m missing.

“Once this parasite⁠—”

“Blessing.”

“I’m getting all the whining out of my system now. I will love the shit out of this baby girl when she arrives, but it’s definitely her fault my body’s more wasteland than wonderland, and I don’t want to let those feelings fester. Either way, I’m worried that if I don’t shame you into action now, while I still have enough energy to care, no one will.” She gives a meaningful glance toward Sexy Tourist, who is studying his phone intently. “That man is both fiiiiiine and interested. Two for two.”

I shake my head again. “You don’t know he’s interested. He looks”—I check again, noting not just the carefully faded haircut but the casual outfit that screams money—“like he’s here for the beach bunnies.”

“Lake Arrowhead doesn’t have any real beaches.”

“You know what I mean,” I whisper. “That is not a man looking for a single mother with stretch marks.”

Maggie laughs. “He finished his food over an hour ago, before the Shepards even got here. Then he ordered an extra coffee and three cookies—one at a time. He always made sure you were the one taking the order, and also, have you seen his body? That’s not a body that consumes cookies. That’s a stomach you bounce cookies off of.”

Sexy Tourist clears his throat, and I check, again, that he isn’t listening, while Maggie absentmindedly rubs at her neck. I reach out, kneading her shoulders until she sighs with pleasure.

“Massage or not, I will never forgive you if you don’t climb that man like Edmund Hillary conquered Mount Everest.”

“Stop binging documentaries.” I rub at a particularly bad knot, which silences her for a moment.

“Your future niece won’t let me sleep without the Discovery Channel.”

When my hands ache too much to continue massaging her, I step around Maggie to open the register and start on our closing procedures, but Maggie trails after me.

“Can you at least admit that man is fine?”

I focus on straightening the bills in our old-fashioned bank deposit bag. “Objectively? Sure.”

“Then it’s a win-win-win. The tourist gets a hot hookup, which is practically community service because it’ll make other people think of Lake Arrowhead as⁠—”

“A brothel?”

Another cough from Sexy Tourist, a strangled sound from me.

My best friend ignores both of us. “You get revenge sex, and I get to vicariously experience the sex.”

“I’m not seeing what I get out of this.”