Page 31 of The Irresistible Distraction

YOU LOVE CHESS

There is a moment of confusion as we all stand there, frozen in some horrid tableau, no one quite certain what to say next. From behind me, Sebastian asks, “How do you know my mother?”

“Brody?” As if sensing the change in atmosphere, Vera has abandoned the stove. She wipes her hands on her apron, and it takes her less than two seconds to understand, a touch of dry amusement in her tone as she arches an eyebrow and asks, “You’re Clark Gable?”

“You told my aunt?”

“Not everything.”

Brody’s eyes roam over me quickly, a small smile playing at his lips, as if he’s remembering the details he uncovered last night, and I’m simultaneously flushed and irritated, because 1. he’s checking me out in front of my kid and neighbor, and 2. in ratty jeans and a faded T-shirt, I look like poop, nothing like what Brody from Beverly Hills is used to.

I clear my throat, and as if he senses my irritation, Brody gives Vera a hug, handing her a box of L.A. Burdick chocolates before turning toward my son, holding out a hand. “You must be Sebastian. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“From my mother?”

It’s a pointed, perceptive question. As Vacation Raquel, I was careful to keep even Seba’s pronouns vague.

Brody sends me a sidelong glance that I probably would have found playful yesterday, when I didn’t yet know who he was. My cheeks warm when I think of all the other parts of me he’s seen, as I wonder how, exactly, I’ll survive these upcoming weeks. “Mostly from my Aunt Vera. I hear, for example, that you love chess.”

This is exactly the right thing to say. Sebastian instantly forgets his interrogation, asking with bright eyes, “You play?”

Sebastian doesn’t wait for an answer and is already walking toward the dining table, moving one of the place settings aside and getting the chess board from Vera’s entertainment center. “You can be white.”

My son is attempting to be polite. He’s a fierce competitor when it comes to chess (and only chess), so he loves every small advantage he can get, but he’s trying to do the right thing here, to at least feign graciousness.

“You be white,” Brody replies, leaving his luggage by the doorway and settling in across from Sebastian. Kirk and Spock nuzzle into his hand, and he gives them each a few seconds of devoted attention, instantly enslaving both. Then, moving right along, he hands a gift bag I hadn’t noticed to my son, who makes a surprised, absolutely delighted sound before digging eagerly into the bag.

“You got me a chess clock.”

Brody shrugs. “Technically, it’s a vintage chess clock, considering I hear we’ll be spending quite a bit of time together, and because from everything Aunt Vera’s told me, you’re the type of guy who might be able to appreciate the difference.”

And that’s all it takes. Sometimes weeks (or longer) pass before Sebastian warms up to someone, and then there are instances when my son feels an instant, intense connection. It’s usually with other people who are neurodivergent, but sometimes it just happens. Looking from Sebastian’s guilelessly wide eyes to Brody’s easy grin, it’s clear that’s what has happened here.

Vera whispers to me, moving us back toward the kitchen. “You’re going to have to make the details G-rated. I’m not ready to hear even PG-13 things about Baby Brody.”

“No one calls me that,” Brody mutters, demonstrating (once again) that his hearing is excellent.

Because it seems like the safest thing to do, I stay in the kitchen and avoid the borderline smoldering looks Brody tosses in my direction between turns.

It’s a little more difficult to ignore his texts, which come through intermittently as I move around Vera’s kitchen and the dining room.

First: It’s going to be harder to avoid me now, isn’t it . . . Raquel?

Then, a few minutes later, he tries: Your kid’s a good player.

Followed by: Have I done something—other than existing—to annoy you today?

And of course: Still want that second date. I’d like to prebook the third too.

The last has me shaking my head at him. I point toward the chess board my son is hyperfocused on, trying to redirect his attention.

Brody flashes me a devilish smile, which Sebastian intercepts.

“Check,” Sebastian announces, a smug smile on his usually shy face.

I’m curious to see how Brody will handle the potential loss—Sebastian’s already a stronger player than Jesse, who was captain of the chess team in high school. My ex proved a rather ungracious loser. But it’s clear that both Sebastian and I have underestimated Brody, who not only gets out of check, but forces Sebastian into checkmate within three moves.

“You’re a very promising player.”