Page 53 of The Irresistible Distraction

This is the way Sebastian makes excuses for me. Instead of blaming me, because I can’t always find someone to cover, my son covers for me. A fresh wave of shame washes over me, but I work hard to maintain my composure and to his credit, Brody waits for my barely perceptible nod before raising his hand nonchalantly and confirming with Sebastian. “We can talk about the details later, but I’d be down.”

“Yeah?” Sebastian’s voice sounds so wistful I want to close my ears to it, to not hear the pained want in my son’s voice. As if realizing his mistake, Sebastian clears his throat. “I mean, if you want to come, that could be kind of cool.”

“Of course,” Brody scoffs. If I hadn’t been watching closely, I would have missed it. But because I’ve paid attention to this man, I notice the change, watch as he becomes the comedic version of himself, eyes widening as if with excitement. “Love getting new camping gear, for one. Two, I know it’ll be totally epic.”

Aidan, Sebastian, and Nate all turn to Brody with identical expressions of disgust. Nate speaks first. “No one says totally epic anymore.”

“For real? That’s not, like, the totally hip slang anymore?” He scrunches his face together as if in mock hurt. “Is it fire? Does it slay? Or is it peak?”

The boys all laugh, and I give Brody’s arm a small squeeze and mouth, Thank you. It’s all an act, but when he turns toward me, when one small curl falls forward and he winks (because of course he does), I feel more warmth than censure.

It’s almost nine by the time Sally and Rachel come. They’re all thank-yous and smiles (ones that are mostly directed at Brody, but I tell myself that’s okay, I’d smile at him too). Rachel and Nate leave first, and I’m walking Sally out when she grabs my arm, motioning for Aidan to get in their truck.

“We’ve never been friends. Or friendly,” she continues, unnecessarily. “But I hope you know what you’re doing here.”

“I’m not—” I stop talking because I see Sally’s gaze traverse down my dress, which is casual but still nicer than what I wear to PTA meetings, which I often rush to while still in uniform. She glances at my hoop earrings, and I wonder for a moment if she can tell I took the time to put on blush, because maybe that’s how out of practice I am with makeup. “He’s just passing through, I know that.”

She sighs and looks up at the sky. “Considering he’s Vera’s nephew, he’s not going to go out of his way to screw you over.” When it doesn’t seem as though I’m understanding, she gives a slight shake of her head and holds out a hand to tell Aidan, who’s opening the truck door and waving at his mother, to be patient. “He can love-bomb the fuck out of you, and even if he doesn’t mean to, even if he thinks he’s going to go back and maintain this long-distance whatever, it’s not going to be the same.” She walks two steps toward the truck and turns. “It’s like starting a relationship with a honeymoon.”

Because Sally is merely articulating fears I already had, I allow myself a moment before I head in to help clean up. Brody looks up and smiles, and even though Sebastian’s face is beaming with happiness, we have to be up early tomorrow.

“I think it’s time to call it a night,” I announce.

Seba’s face falls, but before my son has a chance to complain, Brody interrupts. “I need to talk to your mom real quick anyhow.” He turns to face my child, his tone mock serious. “You need to get to sleep so you have enough energy for our run tomorrow.”

“Like a walk-jog or a run-run?”

“I think we should be working our way up to a half-run, don’t you think?”

I watch as the emotions play plainly across my son’s face and hold my breath. Brody’s pushing his luck here, but given the night my son just had . . . A long moment passes before Sebastian dips his chin in a gesture that mirrors what I’ve seen from Brody. My son takes the spare key, stopping at the front door to turn toward Brody. “Thank you for today.”

I can’t help but smile a little, because as many mistakes as I think I’ve made with this boy, in a lot of ways, he’s really turning out okay. A sweet kid, who I hope will grow into a kind man.

Sebastian closes the door behind him, and Brody waits patiently while I move over to the window to check that my son makes it across the street and that he closes the door behind him. A moment later, Brody has locked it, turning toward me. “What’s wrong?” When I’m silent for too long, he presses, “You were happy and relaxed after your bath, but you’re back to all tension, all the time.”

I take a breath and decide to take a chance. “You aren’t scared of spiders.”

Brody’s eyebrows rise, and his blue-green eyes look darker somehow, glittering as a small smile plays on his mouth. “Why, Miss Sophie, have you figured out some tell I don’t know the existence of?”

I shake my head, because truly, this man has a wonderfully inscrutable face. “Not exactly.”

“So you were fishing.” His eyes crinkle in amusement. “Well done.”

“If we were playing poker and you were trying to hide, I don’t think I would have noticed it, but . . . Thank you for defusing the camping conversation earlier and for the entire playdate tonight.”

“Is this a no-good-deed-goes-unpunished situation? Or are we talking a footrub’s worth of gratitude?”

Even though Brody’s tone is light, his slightly narrowed eyes, the way he’s intently looking at me, feels anything but relaxed. “You lied to me about having arachnophobia. Maybe we just call it even?”

“It wasn’t a lie.”

“Misdirection, obfuscation, deliberate befuddlement. Whatever the lawyer-speak-appropriate term is. You pretended to be frightened of a spider you likely knew was an orb weaver.” I pause, giving him a chance to deny it. He doesn’t. “Just as you did tonight, hamming it up by saying totally epic, slay, fire, peak.”

This is about as confrontational as I get, but truthfully? Sally was correct in one way: A vacation romance is starting with the honeymoon. If I really want to explore something with Brody from Beverly Hills, I’ve got to stop thinking of him as a too-good-to-be-true man who’s out of my league. The only way to find out if we’re actually compatible is if . . . I start pushing back.

I cross my arms, holding my ground as the silence stretches, wondering if he’ll be angry or annoyed, but as the seconds tick by, Brody’s smile only widens. “I am really looking forward to our next few dates.”

It occurs to me that he’s extended the boundaries of what I’ve agreed to, but I don’t challenge it. “You don’t mind that I’m calling you out?”