Page 31 of The Art of Catching Feelings

“You don’t really need the number to be toll-free, though,” Daphne said. “If you’re only going to use it for outgoing calls.”

On the other end, Layla was ominously silent.

“Also, 1-800-NOW-BABY sounds like a phone sex line. But, like, a charity one.”

Daphne could practically see her sister-in-law drumming her perfect French-tipped nails on the little lap desk she’d set up to use in bed.

“Because it’s toll-free—”

“Are you done?” Layla cut in. “Because I did actually call for a reason.”

“Yes, of course,” Daphne said, staring back toward the ballpark. She could guess what that reason was. No doubt Greg had already reached out to Layla, said something about what a disaster the interview had been. So now if she hadn’t managed to get her sister-in-law in trouble by her disgraceful attendance at the game in the first place, she’ddefinitelymanaged it by blowing this opportunity her sister-in-law had set up for her. What a wonderful aunt she’d make.

“First of all, I’m sorry that the interview was cut short. That wasn’t supposed to happen, but it’s not your fault.”

“Well—” Daphne started to say. She had a feeling it was at least a little bit her fault.

“No, I told you he was like that.” Layla was quiet for a moment, as though reflecting on her past interviews with Chris Kepler, the way they’d gone. Daphne had watched a few of them, actually, over the last few days. Sure, Chris wasn’t always the mosteffusiveperson—he seemed adept at giving you exactly what you needed out of him and no more—but he had sat in front of the logo-printed screen and taken questions from reporters, just like any other player on the team. Daphne’s interview with him had definitely been special. And not in a good way.

“What did you think of him, by the way?”

“Chris Kepler?” Daphne asked, more to stall than anything else. It wasn’t like Layla could be talking about Greg.

“Mmm.”

“He was…”He has beautiful eyes.“He seemed nice. Polite, like you said. He wasn’t rude to me or anything. He just…”

“Ended things early,” Layla filled in. “I know. And like I said, that wasn’t your fault, and Greg knows that wasn’t your fault. He said you were a little shaky at the beginning but then really got into a groove.”

“Oh,” Daphne said. “Thank you.”

She’d felt awkward the entire time, but she supposed there had come a point where her self-consciousness was more about the general situation and not so much about the cameras. She’d barely noticed that they were there.

“They’re wondering if you’d like to take over as sideline reporter for the rest of the season.”

Daphne had been blasting the air conditioning in her car, because between the humid South Carolina night and her nerves over the interview, she’d felt like she was boiling from the inside. But now she turned the knob down a few notches, certain shehadn’t heard her sister-in-law clearly over the loud rush of air from the vents.

“They wantme…to talk about baseball?”

“Listen,” Layla said. “I’m going to be straight with you.I’mthe one who wants you to talk about baseball. The network just agreed with me to give you a try. I think it would be good for you, I think you’d be good at it, and most importantly, I think it would allow me to stay involved and not worry about my job.”

Daphne wasn’t offended by Layla’s self-centered approach. If anything, she was relieved. It made sense that Layla would want to still have a lot of pull behind the scenes, and with someone like Daphne in the position, she could. The chances that Daphne would do Layla’s job better than Layla had been able to were very slim. She wasn’t a threat.

No, the whole thing made sense from Layla’s angle. But what about from her own?

“I have clients,” she said. “Articles to write, deadlines…”

“Okay, but do youlikeany of your clients? Do youwantto write any of those articles? What would happen if you, I don’t know, got hit by a bus and couldn’t do it for a few months?”

It was fortunate that Daphne knew her sister-in-law was like this. She hadn’t been a bridesmaid in their wedding because Layla had two sisters and a whole drinking-comped-martinis-at-a-Vegas-bachelorette-party friend group from her college sorority, but she’d been in enough of those rooms to know Layla could be ruthless. One friend had dared to say that strapless dresses were cheesy and Layla had firmly, matter-of-factly told her that she could take that energy outside. After the friend had flounced off, the clerk had rushed in with several strapless samples, and Layla had taken a giant swig of her champagne and said in a withering tone, “She wasn’twrong. Bring me something with a cowl neck.”

“I suppose in the unlikely event I got hit by a bus,” Daphnesaid now, her voice dry, “they would have to find someone else to write their blog posts.”

“So tell them to do that,” Layla said. “Daphne, this is a real opportunity for you—you have to grab it. When will this kind of chanceeverland in your lap again?”

Layla had a point there. Even though Daphne had given up the idea of doing anything in broadcasting years ago—hadn’t even known if she’dwantto—this would be the closest she’d probably ever get. Having this experience on her résumé might open up other doors that had previously been shut.

“Also, the money is good,” Layla said. “I’ll have to double-check on benefits but I think you could be eligible for at least part of the season. No travel at least at first, but they may ask you to start doing road games, too, depending on how it goes.”

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