Page 32 of The Art of Catching Feelings

Hearing Layla lay everything out made it feel morereal, more possible. Daphne already found herself running through her remaining assignments in her head, trying to figure out which ones she could extricate herself from versus which ones she could grind out before she transitioned to another job. She didn’t even need to know Layla’s definition of what constituted “good” money—she already knew it would be much higher than anything she was used to. But still she found herself hesitating, having a hard time picturing herself in this new role.

As if sensing that Daphne was on the edge, Layla softened her voice. “I know it’s scary, upending your life for something temporary,” she said. “But the way you’ve been living since Justin…you deserve more than that. And I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way.”

Maybe it was what her sister-in-lawhadn’tsaid that made the biggest difference. Because Daphne could easily fill in the blank, could see the ways that she’d been living a temporary life for the last year, in a weird limbo state where she didn’t know what shewanted or how to go after it. If this gave her nothing more than a chance to reset, to reimagine what her life could look like…well, wasn’t that exactly what she needed?

“Okay,” Daphne said, “I’m in.”

It wasn’t lost on her that it was the second time that day—thathour—she’d committed to something outside her comfort zone. It also wasn’t lost on her that those two things were connected.

How was she going to juggle texting with Chris Kepler as Duckie, while potentially working with him as Daphne?

—

By the time Daphne had gotten home, Layla had emailed her a list of—well, it was tempting to think of them as alist of demands, like they were negotiating a hostage situation, but she knew that wasn’t fair. Layla was trying to make sure she was ready to take over reporting duties by tomorrow’s afternoon game, which was so fast it was making Daphne’s head spin.

The first thing was an emergency hair appointment the next morning, which Layla had already texted her own stylist to arrange.She won’t do anything drastic, Layla had promised,just trim you up and give you some tips for how to maintain your look. And before you protest, yes, your hair looks fine but also you’re going to be on TV! This is a different level of “fine”!

“You can do this,” Kim said, scanning over the list. Daphne had recruited her friend as logistical support for her day of preparations, but already it was clear that moral support was going to be just as important. “I mean, it’s alot…but you can do it.”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous,” Daphne said, almost driving past the tucked-away salon with its discreet sign. She had to put her signal light on at the last minute and hit her brakes harder than she would like to make the turn. The car behind her honked, and she held up her hand in an apology.

“They’re going too fast to see that,” Kim remarked, and Daphne shot her friend a look.

“I think they saw,” she said. “They made a gesture back.”

“That…was not a wave.”

Daphne ignored that, grateful that her car was compact enough to fit in the parking spot she was able to find around the back of the building next to the dumpster. Kim was already unbuckled and halfway out of the car when Daphne touched her arm.

“Sorry, I just need a minute,” she said. “I hate driving to new places. I hate worrying about what the parking situation is going to be somewhere I’ve never been before. And I’m about to let this random person I’ve never met do god knows what to my hair, and—”

Kim laid her hand over Daphne’s, giving a squeeze. “You hate change,” she said. “And these are some major ones. But change isn’t always bad. I mean, Exhibit A, you don’t have to put up with Justin anymore. And by extension, that means I don’t have to, which is a fun bonus.”

And now I’m alone and live in a glorified dorm room, Daphne wanted to say, but she understood her friend’s point, and was grateful for it.

“Now, can we go inside?” Kim said. “I bet this is one of those places that offer you a glass of wine when you walk through the door.”

Kim was spot-on about the wine, even at that early hour. Daphne accepted a glass of water instead, since she was driving and way too nervous to be drinking on an empty stomach. Still, maybe Layla knew what she was doing when she had Daphne go to a hair appointment first, because within twenty minutes she felt so much more relaxed. The woman who was taking care of her was perfect, one of those hairstylists who can make friendly conversation but was also more than happy to just work silently, andDaphne found herself sinking into the sensation of having her hair shampooed by someone else, the peacefulness of being left in a darkened room with some leave-in conditioner or who knows what other amazing-smelling products sitting on her head.

Her phone buzzed from her purse, and she leaned down to check it. It was a new text message from Chris.

C: I told you about one of my formative books. What about one of yours? That Milo one?

If he wanted to be friends, he couldn’t have picked a better conversation topic. She could talk about this for hours.

D: The one I probably read the most was called Mandy, written by Julie Andrews Edwards, who I found out only later was THE Julie Andrews from The Sound of Music. It’s about this orphan girl who finds a cottage in the woods and makes it her own. I was obsessed with reading about her sweeping out the cottage and decorating it with seashells and saving up to buy seeds for the garden.

C: The rituals of it.

Daphne actually hadn’t put that together, how similar it was to the comfort she took in organizing her own bookshelves or making herself a cup of tea.

D: Exactly. Sometimes I think I read books to vet them to reread, you know?

C: I don’t know if I do know, but I want to. Explain that to me.

It probably sounded strange. It wasn’t that Daphne didn’t like that thrill of opening up a new book, not knowing what jokes were going to land and what plot twist was going to take her by surprise and how it was all going to end up. But it was all about those books that burrowed their way into your heart, that you felt like you’d carry with you forever.

D: Like reading a book the first time is like a perfect first date. It’s exciting, there are sparks, you’re discovering new things about the other person and yourself, you end your night thinking, WOW, yes,this is something special. But the point of a good first date is to set yourself up for more dates. A lifetime together, maybe.

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