Page 73 of The Irresistible Distraction

Brody looks almost comically offended. “I wouldn’t have bailed.”

Before meeting Brody, I might have doubted the college kid who bailed on what was meant to be ten days with his aunt, but given what I now know . . . “I believe you wouldn’t have completely bailed. You would have had your assistant come or found some other way to buy your way out of the problem.”

This time, there is a flash of hurt that crosses his features. “Are you judging me for having an assistant?”

“I mean yes, I’m sure you earned your degrees: Beverly Hills High School, Caltech, Yale Law, as you just had to point out to my father-in-law.”

“Ex-father-in-law.”

“By all means, let’s nitpick right now. You’ve already blown up my life, why don’t you also blow up my grammar?”

He runs a hand through his hair, leaving the curls adorably askew. His expression is more concerned than angry, more perplexed than contrite, but he says, “I didn’t mean to cause trouble for you.”

“But you also didn’t take the time to think things through. It’s the same thing I tell Sebastian: unintentional harm is still harm.”

He crosses his arms. “At the time, it felt like if you weren’t going to defend yourself⁠—”

“Declaring that you want to date me is not defending me.”

“It distracted and deflected. They were being condescending pricks. Why shouldn’t I push back a little? More importantly, why can’t you?”

I throw my hands up, more dramatic, I think, than I’ve ever been, because that’s what Brody does to me—the passion, yes, but also the anger, like I’ve never allowed myself to feel before. “Because they’re customers at my diner.” I speak the words slowly, overarticulating each syllable. “Because I didn’t want to cause a big scene when I knew it would spread. Three thousand miles away, your Aunt Vera heard the news. High school classmates I’ve barely kept in touch with are suddenly teasing me for being chased by two men.”

“And that’s a bad thing because . . . ?”

“I like privacy.”

“Celibacy—where you lock yourself away and don’t date anyone, waiting for your ex to come back and make your family whole—and privacy are on completely different planes of existence.”

I cover my eyes. No one exasperates me like this man. “You’ve already helped me take care of the end of celibacy. But given your talk about not enjoying being in the limelight, shouldn’t the privacy part have been my decision? There’s safety in anonymity. You, of all people, should know that.”

This time, Brody looks a trifle abashed. “I am sorry. But you deserved more respect from botched Botox⁠—”

“Adeline. And you’re deflecting . . . again. It’s exactly what Seba does. ‘I’m sorry but’ isn’t an apology, it’s a way to extend the argument.”

“Fuck.” He paces away from me, fingertips pressing into his eyes as if he’s thinking. “I quite actively resent how well constructed your logic is sometimes. You should have been a lawyer.” Turning my direction, he tries again. “I don’t want to compliment your ex, because he’s at least my nominal competition right now, but it makes me like Jesse a tiny bit more, knowing that he grew up with Adeline and isn’t an even bigger asshole.”

“Jesse’s not an asshole.”

“Agree to disagree. An asshole is someone who acts foolishly or detestably. He let you and Sebastian go, which is, and here’s that LSAT vocabulary version of it: fatuous, ludicrous, preposterous, and perhaps even grounds for insanity. He also has failed to communicate to his mother the proper way to treat you and speak of you, which is detestable. ”

“Adeline’s not Jesse’s responsibility. What you saw was mid-level Adeline-branded toxicity at best, meaning I’ve survived far worse, because when someone is a customer at my diner⁠—”

“You have the right to refuse to serve anyone.”

“It’s easy to judge when you’re rich enough to give flippant responses. You’ve grown up protected, privileged, knowing that whatever happened, there were safety nets beneath you. Easy to jump when you know you’ll never hit rock bottom.” This, finally, silences him for a moment, and I watch as the thoughts cross his expressive face. I continue, slightly more softly. “You have no idea what it’s like to survive on what the diner makes, to not hire extra help because it might mean being in the red during the non-tourist months, to know that every single customer has to be treated like a gift. To drink stale coffee so that you have a reputation for always having hot coffee and to tell everyone—” I’m near tears suddenly, and I have to stop, to take in a deep, gulping breath. “To let everyone believe it’s okay, because I want to work the extra shifts, because I can’t tell the difference between day-old coffee.”

“No one believes that.”

I look up to find Brody staring intently at me. “What do you mean?”

“Maggie and Vera have both mentioned how much pressure you’re under.”

Vera’s known me my entire life, and Maggie’s not far behind. Of course they weren’t fooled. “Being close to the sole provider for me and Sebastian has always weighed on me.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why is your ex-mother-in-law wearing off-season Chanel with Mikimoto pearls while you’re scraping by in a house that needs a variety of repairs?”

“Because I couldn’t afford a proper divorce attorney and haven’t gotten around to fixing my poorly negotiated package.” Then I decide to take a page out of Brody’s book. When attacked . . . attack back. “You’re quick to point out everyone else’s flaws, so tell me this: When was the last time you took that introspective approach for yourself?”