Page 36 of The Irresistible Distraction

Brody’s brow lifts, and from the corner of my eye I see the window blind of my house twitching. Obviously, Sebastian is trying to watch, a great reminder of my priorities beyond Brody. Brody’s back to folding his arms, clearly digging in for the fight.

“You’re seriously overthinking—a problem you asked me to try to fix, if you’ll remember?” He reaches out one hand, gently flicking a strand of hair away from my shoulder, and a shiver runs through me. “Let me put it this way: I have had four semi-serious girlfriends, including the ex-fiancée, and I’ve remained friends with all of them. I was the man of honor at my high school girlfriend’s wedding. Even if we crash and burn, I solemnly swear to continue helping with Sebastian. There’s no need to predict the finale before we’ve even begun.”

I swallow as I remind myself Brody is persuasive because he’s practiced. “Do you think, maybe, all you like about me is the challenge?”

“Absolutely not. Your stubborn resistance to the idea of us is the most infuriating, least attractive part of you.”

This catches me by surprise. “Really?”

“And that’s the second time you’ve insulted both of us. First, you thought I got off on the idea of nameless sex, which, insulting, by the way. I’m an intelligent guy with a chiseled jawline, wealthy parents, and let’s say six very nice automobiles—I’ve had more than my fair share of nameless sex. Second, I’m not into you because you’re hard to get. Seen that show, don’t need any repeats.” He reaches out a hand, palm up, the first time he’s really reminded me of Clark, from before. He waits until I grudgingly place one hand in his, my skin tingling, my entire being hyperaware of this man in a way I truly wish I could turn off. “You’re authentic and capable of intellectual conversation. We have spectacular sexual chemistry. That would honestly be enough, but also, I like that you inspire some odd, previously hidden romantic dimension. Can’t remember the last time I texted pictures of the sunrise like some sappy fool. But I kind of liked that, for you and for me.”

“You don’t know me.” I pause long enough for that to sink in. “You knew selected, curated pieces of me. That I was a single mother, but not that my ex might be moving back. That I had a kid, but not that the kid was Sebastian, who is not just my son, but the anchor of my life. Vacation Raquel was the un-messy, easy part of my life.”

Brody steps back with a slow small smile, and I wonder if this is the moment he gives up. But all he says is, “The more I learn about you, the more I’m thrilled we’ll have a guaranteed minimum of three months together.”

“Vera’s only gone for two months.”

He gives a careless shrug, already jogging backward, ready to head across the street. “But I’m here for at least three. So get ready to have some boundaries pushed against. Your rules. My turn.”

He’s halfway across the street before I shout, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

He turns right before entering the house, but instead of shouting back, he texts me.

BRODY: It kept you talking, which, I’m realizing, with you?

BRODY: That’s half the battle.

11

I’LL JUST UN-REMEMBER

As soon as I’ve checked on Sebastian and made sure he’s at least pretending to read his history textbook, I call Maggie, giving her the shortened version and asking whether she could drop by. Only after I hang up do I remember that I promised to do something with Sebastian later today, when he finishes his essay.

And this, I remind myself, is why I shouldn’t get involved with someone else. I already have so little time beyond the five days a week, ten hours each day I put into the diner—and the situation will worsen when Maggie goes on leave and when I’ll have to temporarily split her shifts with Walter.

What little time is left . . . has to go to my son.

“Have you finished your writing?”

“What if I had finished? Would you invite Maggie to join us or just let her talk through the movie?”

I take a deep breath, try not to be obvious about the mental counting. That happened once. Sebastian and I had already cued up the latest Pixar when Maggie called, wanting to debrief about a fight she’d had with Tyler. “If I can help with the essay, I can ask Maggie to come over another day.”

He takes his laptop out of his bag. “History is stupid.”

“You know I disagree, but also, you not liking history is why we’re taking it over the summer, remember? So you can double up on math next year?”

“Yes.”

It was a hat trick to pull off—Sebastian has already skipped three grades, but truthfully, he could go far, far faster in math if he was allowed. It took numerous meetings with Dominic, who was a year ahead of me in school but is now Principal Swenson, before he agreed that, given the glowing recommendations Sebastian’s previous math teachers had written, my son will be allowed to enroll in Algebra II and Precalculus simultaneously, something that’s never allowed (considering they’re supposed to happen chronologically, one after the other).

Principal Dominic only approved the crazy plan after personally administering last year’s finals to Sebastian, who had been self-studying so much calculus he passed . . . both, despite having been enrolled in . . . neither.

Adeline and Arthur were vehemently opposed to the idea, saying this would be detrimental to Sebastian’s social development. Jesse hemmed and hawed and finally said I should do what I thought was best, if I was positive—putting all the responsibility, and thus any potential blame or fallout, squarely on my shoulders.

Sebastian has been silent for so long that I finally ask, “Do you still want to double up on math next year?”

He hangs his head, and I steal a glance at the clock. Maggie won’t be here for another ten minutes at least, and that’s assuming she leaves right away. I can still call her off, especially if I might need to have a longer conversation with Sebastian.