Page 38 of The Irresistible Distraction

“One does not compete with Vi Shindler.” Hearing such prosaic advice come from Maggie is a tier beyond depressing. “Page Six has an article suggesting that Brody Branca is the ultimate bachelor—that if Vi Shindler can’t land him, no one can.”

I don’t bother answering, because the more I read about Brody and Vi, the more I read about just Brody, the more I wish I had never learned of Sexy Tourist’s real identity. It’s not just the exquisite ex-fiancée no one can compete with, it’s also everything else.

What Brody and Vera described as the “family business” he joined isn’t merely one of the most successful law firms in Beverly Hills. The Wall Street Journal has it listed as one of the most influential in the nation. When we pull up the website, we both recognize some of the to-go diner bros who came in . . . was it really just a day ago? Luxury Athletic Tourist is Lawrence Billings IV, one of fifty lawyers employed at Branca and Gooden’s OC office. He claims to be a specialist in GP stakes, cross-border fund formation, and sponsor-level tax planning.

“I don’t know what any of those words mean,” I murmur, my heart sinking a little at the idea that this is Brody’s world.

“We should have charged them more,” is Maggie’s take. “A thirty-five percent tip is nothing to guys like this.”

Despite Brody’s claim that he’s on half sabbatical, the company’s website lists him as a full partner who is “accepting new clients on a limited basis.” From there, Brody’s résumé is easy to find.

My eyebrows rise as I download his CV: I remember Vera saying something about Brody attending a prestigious school. I hadn’t realized she meant graduating cum laude from California Institute of Technology (basically one of Seba’s two dream colleges and which I’m pretty sure the Feynman from The Feynman Lectures either attended or taught at) before attending Yale Law. And in all of her stories about Brody, the wild child, who was always chasing new highs para-sailing/gliding/motoring/chuting in Europe/Asia/Australia, I don’t remember Vera ever saying anything about the myriad academic and later service awards and recognitions her young nephew has received.

“And I told him about my three associate’s degrees from different community colleges.”

“College isn’t everything,” Maggie reminds me. She never considered going. There was no reason to, really. She always knew she wanted to stay in the area, to marry Tyler and have babies. She’s looked into a variety of side hustles while working at the diner and has tried everything from selling crocheted blankets on Etsy to pushing handmade soap from a display through Keep Calm and Toast On.

So far, nothing has stuck, but that’s never mattered. To Maggie, education and jobs were always going to be second billing to the rest of her life.

Pre-Sebastian, I was the one who dreamt of going away for school, of potentially having a life and identity outside of Lake Arrowhead.

“College isn’t everything,” I repeat, before I wave my arm, trying to encompass all the information we’ve just devoted the last hour to compiling. “But everything . . . is everything. We are from different galaxies.”

“I mean, maybe.” Maggie twirls a strand of her light-brown hair around one finger. “Or, and hear me out, you could just pretend you never looked any of this stuff up.”

“Sure.” I lean closer and whisper, because even though Sebastian is playing music on his laptop, he opened his door when Maggie screeched earlier and has kept it open ever since. “I’ll just un-remember that the guy I slept with also slept with Vi Shindler.”

“To be fair, he’s likely slept with a lot of people who aren’t Vi Shindler.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Weird as it is, the fact that Brody and Vi broke their engagement seems to have made Brody more of a catch in the eyes of the public. He dropped out of the race for Congress, had a splashy scandal and unwedding, and came out with more positive press than ever before. There were as many headlines asking if he was the Latino JFK Jr. as ones speculating which pop star he’d attended the latest gala with or whether he’d be running for Congress in the future.

Maggie turns to show me the image search results, showing Brody with a frightening number of women at different events.

“Is acknowledging the fact that Brody’s a manwhore supposed to make me feel better?”

“Don’t shame the man. If anything, he has broad and very inclusive taste in women.”

“None of whom I can compete with.” The words are out before I have a chance to really think about what I’m saying.

“Do you want to?” Maggie’s voice is soft, her tone utterly gentle.

I shake my head and bite my lip, hoping Sebastian isn’t listening. “It would have been difficult to have a relationship with Clark the Sexy Tourist. But Brody, the Most Eligible Bachelor of Beverly Hills? Impossible.”

Even Maggie, the eternal optimist, is quiet for a moment. “While it does look decidedly uphill, I think this is a perfect opportunity to mention Jacques Balmat.” She pauses. “Aren’t you going to ask me who that is?”

“Based on your viewing preferences, he’s a mountaineer/explorer/outdoorsman who overcame overwhelming odds and then wrote about determination, perseverance, and his can-do attitude.”

“I need to stop watching the Discovery Channel, don’t I?”

I pull her in for a hug.

Maggie doesn’t stay long. We share a lunch consisting entirely of diner leftovers. Afterward, Maggie complains that her back and feet are hurting and that even though my massages are better, Tyler has better endurance. We chat about the legal and illegal fireworks that went on all night, and after Maggie leaves, I make a batch of s’mores popcorn. Sebastian’s not a great eater, but if I put enough snacks in front of him, I get enough calories into him. Then my son and I settle in to watch a movie, one of the few things we’re able to cuddle through without squabbling.

When we finish, there are text messages from Jesse and Brody, both of which I read. Neither of which I respond to.

JESSE: You’ve probably heard by now.