Page 41 of The Irresistible Distraction

BRODY: I’m also applying to be your second-favorite handyman.

He texts me when he drops Sebastian off at school, and then his messages slow as he takes a few “mandatory meetings.” But he makes Sebastian send me “proof of life” from Discord once they’re both back at Vera’s.

Maggie reads all the messages over my shoulder and steals half the jerky. “This is really good—” she starts.

“Please don’t start a side jerky business.”

My best friend gives an exaggerated pout. “You kill all my greatest ideas.”

“Only because you never follow through and get bored at the halfway point.”

Because Brody texts me that they have dinner covered, I give the leftover chicken parm and ravioli to Maggie, knowing she’ll freeze whatever she can’t eat. This gives her a little more leeway once the baby is born.

I’m at Vera’s by four and am only a little surprised to find them all playing a strategy game I’ve never seen before. Vera gives me a hug and lets me know they’re almost done. “We were all about to go for a quick walk while the roast finishes, if you’d like to join?”

I turn my surprised expression toward Sebastian, who loathes exercise and has always maintained that brain work burns sufficient calories. “I walk.”

“Sure,” I agree, a little too quickly, looking at the clouds and wondering if there might be a summer rainstorm. I layer up and try to get Seba to take the backup outerwear we keep at Vera’s, but he shakes his head and leaves before I can press the issue.

And that’s how the four of us end up on the Will Abell Trail together, a picturesque extended family, complete with two constantly misbehaving dogs we take turns wrangling. Partway through, Vera pulls my arm so that we fall farther back.

“I wanted to explain a few things about Brody, so you don’t have any misconceptions.”

“Please don’t. Brody already told me you ship us⁠—”

“Tell me you’re at least proud I know the lingo. Relationship? Ship? Not bad for a retired high school teacher.”

“Your nephew is not . . . What I mean to say is, Brody’s so far out of my league I might as well be playing a different sport.”

“Shame on you.” Vera’s voice is so loud, and such a fierce version of her teacher voice, both boys turn around. She pulls her shawl around herself more tightly before waving them away, forcing me to stop and face her as Brody and Sebastian walk ahead. “Don’t you ever let me hear you speak that way of yourself again, Sophie Emma Masters.”

The temptation to immediately apologize (and call her Mrs. Robeson, as I once had) is almost overwhelming. But I’m not a teenager in her classroom, and this isn’t a lesson on how to re-create a jade bi. “If you think about it⁠—”

“Having two of the people I care about the most develop romantic feelings for each other? Sweetie, this is not the first time the thought’s occurred. Your steadiness and your heart combined with his optimism and boundless energy? It would be an amazing pairing, but you told me not to meddle⁠—”

“And this isn’t . . . meddling?”

“This was fortuitous. Fate. You met each other before I had the chance to introduce you, did some very not-PG-13 things, if my nephew’s blush is to be believed.”

I pause, willing my cheeks to not redden. “Brody blushed?”

“That’s what I’m saying.” She pats my hand and finally allows us to continue walking. “There is no such thing as a league when it comes to romantic inclinations. There is only how well your foundational values match and how much you’re willing to work on and fight for the relationship.”

Given how aspirational Vera’s relationship with Vernon was, I don’t take this advice lightly. Nor do I miss that it’s the first time Vera has ever tried to advise me on my romantic life. “Can we just enjoy our last night out together? I won’t see you for six and a half weeks, which is almost two months, meaning . . . an eternity.”

Vera smiles and links my arm through hers. “Fine. But trust me when I say Brody’s a good egg. Like you.”

It starts to drizzle then, and I rush to catch up to the boys, who have rounded the corner, already taking off the hoodie I’d grabbed, ready to argue it out with Sebastian.

But when I catch up to the boys, I see that Brody is in a long-sleeved shirt and my son is swimming in the older man’s hoodie.

“I tried to tell him I’m not cold.” Sebastian’s voice is petulant, but he looks content, folding his arms around himself, looking absolutely adorably childlike in Brody’s clothes.

“I run hot,” Brody reminds me before bumping my kid’s arm a little. “Also, pro tip, if you give in on the little stuff like this? Other parts of life get much easier.”

It’s unclear whether he’s saying this to me… or Sebastian, and I’m about to protest that this sounds patronizing, but then I see the glance Seba throws Brody’s way and decide it might be easier to take the win. My son is outdoors, walking, and warm, even if we are, now, tacitly agreeing to turn back to the car before the rain worsens. On the way back, I blink rapidly and tell myself any moisture I feel is from the drizzling rain, because there’s certainly no reason to feel touched that Vera’s nephew would give his sweater to my son.

Dinner is excellent, not just the fact that Sebastian is more talkative than usual, sharing that Brody gave him a mini physics lecture during their walk (and that this was a good thing in my son’s book), but also the vegetables have been roasted and seasoned perfectly.