Page 63 of The Irresistible Distraction

“Feeling . . . feelings?”

Brody’s jaw tightens, and I find myself both fascinated and perhaps the tiniest bit flattered: I don’t recall ever seeing the man this annoyed. Or really . . . anything above mildly irritated. Finally, he crosses his arms, forearms flexing, lips still firmly pressed together.

“You’re going to have to try a little harder, Brody. Because if this—the we that you’re hoping to make official—is going to work, you can’t just declare that we are together and not explain what you’re thinking and feeling. You have to talk to me as if . . . we are in this together.”

Another tick of his jaw, a small tug at his lips that is nothing close to his normal smile before he says, “I resent the soundness of your argument.”

My lips curve into an appreciative smile, because the man does have a way with words. And then . . . I wait while Brody twists his neck, cracking it before he turns his head to the side, studying the patch of concrete that needs to be resurfaced as if it is truly fascinating. Finally, Brody tells me, still not making eye contact, “I believe, with fairly high certainty, that I am experiencing . . . what some people call jealousy.”

The laugh that escapes me is not graceful, and I find myself amazed that I’m capable of being amused by anything, given the situation. The way Brody says some people . . . “Meaning it’s, what, a new experience for you? You’ve never been jealous?”

Brody nods. “Both novel and unpleasant.”

“You’re serious right now?”

“I am wealthy, overeducated, and objectively fine. I’ve dated models and cliff-dived in Mexico. Meaning no, I’ve never really had the opportunity to envy what anyone else had.” Brody spits out the word, eyebrows raised, as if he’s surprising even himself. His words are measured, tone level as he continues. “I am not enjoying this.”

Though I’m biting the inside of my cheek, because this is at least a little amusing, and something I’m hoping we can laugh about later, it’s obvious Brody needs some amount of comforting from me here. “I’m not interested in getting back together with Jesse.”

Brody shakes his head, either not listening or not completely believing my words. “A week ago, when Maggie—as Marilyn—joked about revenge sex, I didn’t really get what you and Jesse have been to each other. But after a week of getting to know you, I’ve gotten enough details to piece it together. Tyler 2.0 was a tiny footnote in the story that has been fundamentally you and Jesse. You grew up together, married right out of high school, and then you slept with him again four years ago. Hence the title The Mistake.” Brody takes a deep breath. “You apparently believed he had just gotten engaged when you kissed me, and equally obviously, you just learned in real time that Jesse is not only not engaged but wants you back.”

I open my mouth to answer, but no words come out. For the first time since I’ve met him, Brody’s eyes are sad as he squeezes my hand.

“So yeah, I am jealous. As a divorce attorney, I know that because of Sebastian, Dr. Jesse Jeffrey Williams will always be a part of your life. I’m envious that Jesse gets to be Sebastian’s dad and your emergency contact. As a man who’s still earning a place in your life, that sucks.”

“Even if Jesse wasn’t moving back . . .”

“I know.” Brody reaches out a hand toward me, cupping my face. “And just as I was taught to exploit every advantage, I have no doubt that Jesse will use Seba, while weaponizing your romantic history in an effort to try to win you back. It’s definitely what I would do. We’ve been together for a week. You and Jesse have had more than a decade.”

“You’re a really good lawyer, aren’t you?”

A small part of Brody’s swagger slips back as he gives me a small shake of his head. “I’m fucking fantastic. Which is my baseline, in all endeavors.”

“I’ll text you later?”

“Great.” He closes his eyes, runs both of his hands through his hair. “Let me try that again, because apparently jealousy is an ugly, twisted filter that turns insecurity into sarcasm.” He takes a deep breath. “I would very much appreciate it if you would text me later, by which time I will have hopefully made progress on getting my act together.”

I reach a hand out to his chest, which he immediately covers with his own. “If you got through quantum, you can get through anything, right?”

“Yeah.” Brody squeezes my hand, staring into my eyes. And even though his silence is borderline unsettling, I decide to let it lie for now. He pulls me in for a hug, and I lean into him, my hands trapped between us, his heartbeat a grounding reassurance.

19

BUT HE’D BEEN TEMPTED

My mind spins a million different directions on my drive home. And for the first time all week, it’s not Brody my thoughts are centered on.

Even though I’ve never fully bought into the idea of soulmates, everything Jesse and I shared had felt . . . as close to that as I’d ever get.

Starting from kindergarten, when I first met him, every year of school could be tracked alongside a core memory of Jesse. Kindergarten, when he confronted a kid who made fun of my small brown eyes. First grade, when Jesse was the one who took me to the nurse, half carrying me after I scraped my knee. Second grade, when we entered the talent show together, singing a horrifically off-key duet. All the way to our high school years, when his friends asked mine to gauge an interest everyone already took for granted. Jesse wasn’t just my first kiss, he was my first . . . everything.

Our relationship was easy, sweet, and uncomplicated—until it wasn’t.

We never fought about anything—until we did, until a broken condom after my senior prom (yes, that’s how clichéd we were) resulted in a quickie marriage. Jesse, who, at eight months older, had always felt wiser and stronger than me in every single way, was totally unprepared to be a husband, father, and student. But because I was still nursing, because Seba always clung to me, it made sense (at the time) for me to stay home.

I gave up on UCLA because there was no way to be long distance with a baby; I’d follow him to Berkeley in a year, we told ourselves.

After a decade of loving each other, first as friends and then as spouses, we thought we’d be strong enough to survive long distance.