Page 109 of The Irresistible Distraction

In real time, all I can really think is: I can’t believe Brody didn’t tell me Vi and Khloe Shindler were coming. Because obviously, if I had known I’d be meeting two of People magazine’s Most Beautiful Women . . . (A cheat, considering they’re identical twins, meaning . . . shouldn’t they count as one entry?)

I don’t know what I would have done.

But at the very least, I would have applied more of the makeup I’d just bought, instead of showing up with my standard layer of tinted sunscreen and a smidge of lip gloss.

I would have worn something other than a plain tank under my black cotton overalls.

And I definitely would not have eaten tuna for lunch.

Yes, I brushed my teeth, but still . . .

I consider slinking away. The diner looks completely packed in that there are people standing by the booths, meaning the fifty-plus cars was likely an underestimate. This looks like the type of crowd where people carpooled or were dropped off. It’s almost certainly a fire code violation, and I spend a brief second worrying about that before I see Don Simpson, the assistant chief who oversees all the local Crestline and Rimworld fire stations, asking the twins for a selfie.

So yeah, probably even if this is a violation, no one’s there to take the call.

My feet take a subconscious and involuntary step backward, my nervous system making the call to escape for me, but I’m just a half second too slow and Walter spots me, practically screeching my name in an octave I didn’t know he was capable of. He waves me in, all normal pretense of being too stoned or too faux-cool tossed aside in the face of genuine celebrity.

He drags me (and my equipment) unceremoniously to the Shindler sisters, meaning I don’t even have an opportunity to check my teeth for lettuce—because I added lettuce to my lunchtime tuna wrap—and introduces me.

“And this is Sophie Masters, the owner of the diner.”

“And Brody’s new girlfriend,” someone says.

“More than girlfriend, if the poker proposal story is to be believed.”

There’s a chorus of oohs and aahs and the crowd parts—Red Sea biblical style—giving us a little clearing.

“It is so wonderful to meet you,” Vi says, leaning in to give me a hug while I try to hold my toothpaste-tuna breath. Her hug feels surprisingly warm and genuine? Vi’s films have been mostly romantic comedies where she plays the all-American sweetheart, and standing here in her embrace, I’m starting to wonder if that’s just who she is, genuinely.

Which is terrible news for me.

To have a serious chance at happiness with Brody, to not have nightmares about being Brody’s consolation prize, I really needed Vi to be more . . . poisonous vipress than this. Catty with crooked teeth that are constantly photoshopped would have been nice.

“So great,” Khloe says, with just a touch more sarcasm, giving me a barely there Mean Girls half embrace.

The only reason anyone can tell them apart is that Vi’s hair is nearly platinum blonde while Khloe’s has an almost strawberry tint and both are different than the most recent pictures I’d seen online. I’m unclear whether either color was their original or natural tone, and I’m not sure it actually matters. Standing here in front of the two most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, I finally understand that the debate about natural versus artificial beauty is a moot one.

They. Are. Glorious.

So beautiful it is breathtaking, mesmerizing, and astounding in a way that defies words. “I am—” My mind stutters to a halt because a variety of very honest words almost trip out. Surprised and awestruck. Shocked and mortified. “Sophie. I am Sophie,” is what I finally settle on. “I’m very pleasured to meet you.”

Which is the wrong thing to say.

“Pleased. I am so very pleased to meet you. But it is also a pleasure.” To my side, Walter snickers.

Vi smiles at me kindly and Khloe gives me a more sarcastic grimace. They look at me expectantly, all long lashes and shining hair.

“We’ve been mostly taking selfies and allowing people to post while waiting for you—and we did a few in what I believe is eventually going to be called the Keep Calm and Taco On food truck with Reuben and Mario.”

My eyebrows rise. I wouldn’t have expected someone like Vi Shindler to remember things like the names of my employees, but Vi not only does, she is gracious about it. Kind.

Fuck. My. Life.

Also, from now on, fuck the idea that crap should be the upper limit of vulgarity. I’m going to have to expand my personal boundaries to better articulate my feelings.

“Right,” I say, nodding. I take an extra moment to compose myself before going through the spots I’d already planned on highlighting—the newly revamped corner booth with Maggie’s crocheted blankets, because Maggie wants to start selling those on the side again, the new chalkboard menus that show the various popcorn and cookie flavors, the ones I had felt looked rustic and cute at the time . . .

The sea around us parts again to reveal Brody—who, I remind myself, I want to murder—coming toward me.