Page 13 of The Art of Catching Feelings

Daphne flashed the phone screen to Kim, showing her the last words she’d received from Chris Kepler the night before. She’d filled her best friend in on the whole thing—well, most of it. She’d told her about how she’d reached out to apologize, how he’d actually responded, how they’d ended up talking. She hadn’t gone into any specifics about what they’d talkedabout. Obviously, the stuff with his brother was private. And as for the rest of it…it felt private, too, like if she exposed it to air she risked it turning brown and wilting.

“Well, that certainly explains why we’rehere,” Kim said, gesturing around the sports bar where they’d met to share a sampler platter and, yes, okay, to watch the Battery play the Dodgers on the road.

“It was just so abrupt,” Daphne said.

“You held your own, though,” Kim said, dipping a mozzarella stick into marinara sauce and taking a big, cheese-stretching bite. “Liking his message instead of replying to it. Brutal.”

She hadn’t necessarily intended it that way. It was more that he’d seemed to want to shut the conversation down, and she didn’twant to be the one desperately trying to keep it going. A simple heart to acknowledge that she’d seen his last message seemed the only way to go.

And now she kept opening and closing the chat window, debating about sending a new message, trying to restart the conversation. It felt so unfinished, and she was surprised by how much she’d enjoyed talking to him. How much more she wanted to know about what he was thinking and feeling, how much more she wanted to say.

“He probably gets hundreds of thirsty DMs a day,” Kim went on, before defensively holding up a mozzarella stick at Daphne’s expression. “Notsaying that’s what yours was. Just saying I’m not surprised if he’s flaky and weird, but it has nothing to do with you. I’m proud of you for taking some initiative. You could stand to do the same in other areas of your life—like I wish you’d slide intomoreDMs, if you feel me.”

“The ink on the divorce papers is barely dry.”

Kim rolled her eyes. “Okay, but you’ve been separated for a while. And even before that…”

She didn’t need to go on. Daphne was well aware of what her marriage had been like.

Justin had been her brother’s best friend since high school, and Daphne had had a crush on him for…well, practically since the first day they met. Donovan had invited a bunch of friends over, warning Daphne to stay out of the way and not embarrass him. There was only a two-year age gap between them, but once he’d started ninth grade that gap had been insurmountable, her seventh-grade self way beneath his notice. His friends had mostly ignored her, too, including Justin. But she couldn’t help noticing him, his boyish good looks, the way he always managed to be the life of any party. He had a million stories and jokes, and would hold court in their den for hours while Daphne listened from herroom. As someone who struggled to overcome her own natural shyness, she was in awe of anyone who could be that extroverted.

Maybe that had been part of the problem, in the end. Maybe she’d wanted to belikeJustin more than she’d wanted to bewithJustin. And then, once she was actually with him—once she’d gotten what she’d always told herself she wanted—she realized she didn’t even want to be like him at all. They’d married in haste and were still repenting.

Daphne turned her head toward the TV screen over the bar, where the pregame announcers were talking about the game. The sound was off, but the closed-captioning briefly flashed with Chris’ name before it cut to the now-ubiquitous clip of him starting to cry. She looked away, not wanting to see it again or even read what the commentators might be saying.

Her heart had ached for him when he revealed how he’d lost his brother. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he must be going through. He’d struck her as an intensely private person, and she hadn’t wanted to pry any further. She just hoped he hadsomeonehe could talk to.

“Have you ever heard that song ‘The Way’?” Daphne asked.

Kim had pulled her phone out and was scrolling through it, and Daphne could tell she only had half her friend’s attention.

“No,” Kim said distractedly. “Any good? Oh—this is the one I was looking for. Youhaveto be on this app. It’s not overrun with fuckboys, I promise. We can work on your profile together. It’s going to be so fun to be single at the same time! Like college all over again.”

Daphne studied the screen that Kim had pushed toward her. It looked like any other dating app, several of which she’d already started populating information in before giving up, either because they asked for too much upfront or she wasn’t sure that she wanted to pay the money or she was ambivalent about the idea of datingat all. Kim seemed to have it in her head that this was what Daphne needed to get over Justin, but Daphne wasn’t sure about that. She felt over her ex. She just didn’t feel hopeful about anyone new.

So why did her mind turn immediately to the thought of how cozy it would be to sit down at her tiny countertop, drinking tea with another person and not just by herself? Why did her mind complete that image with not just a generic silhouette of a person, but a very specific person who’d fill her small space with his tall, rangy body?

I appreciate the offer (metaphorical or otherwise).

She wondered what kind of profile would get someone like Chris Kepler to swipe right. He would appreciate someone special, probably—someone unique. He liked a song he rarely heard because of how rarely he heard it. She was sure professional athletes dated pop stars, models, people like that. But when she’d talked to him, he’d seemed so…normal. He’d taken the time to assure her she sounded like a safe driver. Why would he do that?

She pulled out her own phone and downloaded the app Kim recommended. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready to fill out my profile.”

Half an hour later, Daphne wasstillcompleting the monstrous survey at the beginning of the process, but starting to feel excited about the possibility of reinventing herself a little. So she’d never really been that outdoorsy. She could be! Long walks on the beach sounded nice. So she’d never been much of a partier—she could be! Just look at how she’d let loose at the baseball game…not that she wanted a repeat ofthatincident. And so she’d never been that great at first-date banter or small talk—she bet she could improve with practice.

For some reason, she thought of Chris again, the way he’d typedYou knew what you were doing.That had felt alittleflirty. Had they been flirting?

“Now it’s asking what I’m looking for,” Daphne said once she’d gotten to the part of the survey about her potential matches.

Kim made a gesture like,And? What’s the problem?

The problem was that Daphne had no clue. Technically, Justin had ticked off every box she might’ve selected on this list. She’d thought he had a good sense of humor, but later she’d realized that what he really wanted was just to be the funniest person in the room. She’d thought he was supportive, but everything filtered through how it affectedhim.

She’d thought he was kind, but in the short fourteen months they’d been married, he’d shown he could be quite cruel.

“I just want someone toknowme,” Daphne said. “To love me for who I am but to also push me to be who I want to be.”

Sometimes she thought finding the perfect partner had less to do with who they were and more about how they made you feel. But how could you screen for that?

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