Page 29 of The Irresistible Distraction

But in the past eight months, in the whirlwind courtship that has been his relationship with Mackenzie, Jesse has only texted to coordinate his calls and visits with Sebastian. Most often because he has a date and needs to cancel and reschedule at the last minute.

Then, because I don’t want to pour cold water over what’s been one of the best nights of my life, I put the phone down. Since Sebastian’s not here for me to check on, not here for me to save the hot water for, it’s the perfect opportunity to revel in some quality soaking time. Even as I start the bath, I realize that my body is aching in a way that’s almost pleasurable, sore in places I hadn’t realized could . . . get sore. I use one of the overpriced bath bombs Maggie made for me, and it’s almost dissolved when my phone pings with another text.

CLARK: Checking that you made it home okay.

ME: I did. Thank you for tonight.

CLARK: You can thank me in person.

CLARK: Tomorrow?

I look down at the message for a long time, unable to stop the small spear of happiness even as I tell myself it’s just the flush of new love, the endorphins of what people call the honeymoon period. The longer this goes on for, the greater the chance I will fuck it up.

CLARK: Stop overthinking.

CLARK: Come out with me tomorrow.

A snort escapes me. It feels inconceivable that he can read me so well already. Dangerous to entangle myself with someone who has a definitive, predetermined end date.

ME: I thought you were going to let me set the rules and boundaries.

CLARK: I am.

CLARK: But you know, unstoppable force meets immovable object and all that.

CLARK: I get to have at least a little fun pushing . . . right?

ME: Okay.

CLARK: Tomorrow?

ME: I can’t tomorrow.

9

BRODY IS COMING A DAY EARLY

There is a single text from Sexy Tourist the next morning, a beautiful photo of the sunrise.

ME: I thought we were going to enjoy the present, as opposed to frame it with photos?

CLARK: Reasonable facsimile considering you’re not here to enjoy the present with me.

CLARK: This way, I get to enjoy it twice.

CLARK: Unless you want to come out and play?

ME: I really can’t today.

CLARK: “Today.” That’s positive. Progress!

ME: Sure.

CLARK: Next time, you can come and take the photo with me.

CLARK: And in case it’s not clear: I am formally asking (again) for a second date.

I don’t know how to reply, especially not when my body feels almost deliciously sore, when I stretch while feeling the evidence of his caresses in the way unused muscles are protesting. Ultimately, I end up not responding, which I know is the coward’s way out. While I could likely ask Vera to watch Sebastian for another day, maybe more, her nephew, Brody, has promised to arrive late tomorrow, early Tuesday at the latest. As much as I’d love to have more time with Sexy Tourist, to allow him to distract me from the myriad problems descending upon me, I’m not about to prioritize him over some last-minute time with Vera—no matter how much some secret, selfish corner of my soul might want to. I throw on faded jeans and a loose T-shirt and head across the street.