Page 93 of The Irresistible Distraction

“You could have explained it better.”

Brody huffs out a breath while I stare at the both of them, wondering which one will crack first.

Seba’s cheeks puff out. “Aidan has a python and Kevin has two cats.”

“Good for Aidan and Kevin.” It’s not as though I haven’t considered getting Sebastian a pet. Thus, even before hearing what Seba wants, I’m inclined to at least lean yes, because it would be nice for him to have more emotional support. And because, thanks to Brody, I’ve had some amount of warning such a request was going to happen. Still, I don’t need to make it easy for the kid.

Seba’s eyes widen as he mentally prepares. It comes spilling out of him in a huge rush. “Tarantulas are an ideal pet because they are exceptionally easy to maintain, they’ll never bark or make any noise, won’t pee or poop on anything you’ll notice, meaning there will never be any cleanup. Tarantulas don’t require walks and need very little space. They also have a long lifespan—females, in particular, can live up to thirty years, meaning you won’t have to keep getting me new pets.”

Though my head is bobbing up and down, I’m not entirely positive I’m processing the monologue. I look at Brody, who shrugs a little. “He rushed the presentation a little, and I’m not thrilled he landed on spider when bearded dragons are objectively cooler⁠—”

“They’re not,” Seba says, stopping himself from rolling his eyes after stealing a quick look at me.

“—but that’s the gist of the speech your son’s been preparing all weekend. And he wanted to bargain that in exchange for the privilege of having a pet, he would be better about chores around the house.”

“Of which he currently does none,” I say, my voice a bit faint. When Brody hinted it might be exotic and . . . insect-adjacent, I wasn’t sure what I expected. “Why a spider?”

“You took an amazing series of pictures a few years ago now. After looking through them, I started to read about recluses and widows. But I didn’t think you’d say yes to one more thing to clean.”

“Right. Well, I will . . . look into it.” I take a deep breath, thinking Papa would be proud of me, to have gone from leaving the house after finding a spider in my sink, to this, being at least willing to consider cohabitating with a tarantula.

“That’s not a no,” Brody whispers, eyes wide, giving Seba a fist bump.

“It’s not a no,” Seba repeats, eyes wide with excitement.

It’s while Seba is already cleaning up (incredibly slowly, taking basically one plate at a time to the sink, tripling the amount of time this chore should take) that Brody tells me they’ve both been invited to next month’s trip.

Seba’s cheeks are a little flushed as he admits, “They camp almost every month, unless they’re snowed out . . . and even then, they sometimes cross-country ski. It never lined up, and some of the other guys felt bad talking about it in front of me because . . .”

Seba doesn’t need to finish his sentence, because Brody and I both already know.

“I’d be happy to go again. Have to get my money’s worth on all this camping gear.”

“Except—” Seba bites his lip. “I told Dad about it already, and he⁠—”

“Jesse will be coming?” Brody’s studying me as he says this, and I give him what I hope is a quelling look. We haven’t had a chance to discuss what life might look like after Jesse comes back, but I’m pretty sure it’s likely a discussion that should happen in private.

Brody’s face is split into a broad grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, something I’m not sure Sebastian’s savvy enough to detect. “You get to choose, then, Sebastian: You can bring your dad, or you can bring me and your father.”

Sebastian laughs because he doesn’t see any harm in it, and I could, theoretically help the conversation along by telling them that Jesse absolutely hates the outdoors, won’t leave the house without a layer of bug spray, but I don’t. I want Sebastian to bask in a moment where he knows he’s wanted by his father and Brody.

28

TWO CENTIMETERS

We get another week of peace and solitude, where Jesse’s return is more theoretical than not, where I start to slowly go through the thousands of photographs I’ve taken, meet with contractors and get quotes on what’s starting to feel like a very real, very possible, revamp of the diner. There are actual adult meals with Maggie where I listen to her complain about Tyler and the sex injury without looking at the clock to check the time, and Sebastian and I spend our nights teasing Brody about whether he’s going to last, living the middle-class life. And a week in? Brody’s loving the people, the attention, and the novelty of it all—because everyone has heard about our bet and wants to come in to see Brody from Beverly Hills (who I’m assuming they’ve all googled by now) working five thirty to three o’clock at the diner.

There are plenty of shenanigans; with Brody, there always are.

Monday night, Brody comes back with a plan he claims is well thought through. He’s going to become an early (and only) investor in Reuben and Mario’s food truck, which will start part-time in the diner’s parking lot. We’ll charge them a small fee for the placement and take a post-profits cut. They’re still negotiating the exact details, something I’ve come to realize Brody loves—the process of negotiating is as sweet as the final result. They’ll split the work between the truck and the diner, and according to Brody, it’s a win-win. I’ll have temporary access to both line cooks, who are free to go back and forth depending on which is busier.

“You know you’re supposed to be too poor to invest?” I remind him.

“One, by the time Reuben and Mario find a truck, I’ll be liquid again.” Brody’s eyes meet mine, momentarily serious. “They’ve been planning this for years. Just the suggestion of an investment was honestly all the push they needed. But with funds, of it’ll be faster.”

It’s clear this is Brody’s MO, push first, push harder, and then, maybe, ask questions later. “Two?”

“Two, even if I didn’t have money, I have enough friends that there are a variety of things I could help with, outside of cash. And yes, I know, the friends are really networks because I was born into wealth, blah blah, but I can’t exactly help my past.”