Page 93 of Between Love and War
Kate (Me): Hi, Manang Linda. I'm sorry, I can't. I don't have the time.
I don’t add a reason. I don’t cushion it with a promise to make it up to her. I just send it.
And the message just stays there, glowing in the dark. It feels good. Strange, but good. Like I have more control than I give myself credit for.
I think about the cigarettes in my bag—my little illusion of control. The thing I’ve kept because it’s easy to choose it, to pretend that choice means I’m in charge. But real control is in moments like this, when I choose myself instead. Not fully, butalmost there.
My phone buzzes again.
Manang Linda: About time, Katherine.
And I smile. I think of Michael. About how he’s the one who brought this out in me. Sure, he doesn’t get all the credit. I’ve had the capacity to say no. I’ve always had it in me.
But he surely nudged me. Maybe without even meaning to. He’s made me test the edges of my own comfort, made me wonder what would happen if I stood my ground more often. Tonight, I found out.
And if he ever leaves—if his life pulls him back into stadium lights and airports and a pace I could never match—I’ll still have this. I’ll still have the proof that I can choose myself and survive the choosing. And I deserve to be proud of myself for that alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Kate
It’s Little League finals day, and the excitement in the air is electric. After some back-and-forth coordination, the parents finally agreed to hold our preschoolers’ championship game in one of Michael’s proposed stadiums. It’s not massive—nothing like the ones he plays in professionally—but it’s cozy and pristine, with freshly chalked lines and bleachers that are already packed with proud parents, waving relatives, and enthusiastic siblings waving handmade signs.
I’m about 90% sure most of the buzz is because of Michael Lee. How do I know? Because a good chunk of the audience is wearing his jersey. Number seventeen.
I’m currently in the back, waiting for him. Michael mentioned a few of his teammates might drop by, and now that I see them, I immediately question their existence. They’re walking toward me, wearing athletic gear.
Michael is still taller, sure, but when he walks over with two of his closest teammates, his six-foot-four frame suddenly looks… average-sized. Which of course makes me look like a little thumb.
“So, you’re Katie,” one of them says. “I’m Chris.” He extends his hand and I shake it.
“Just Kate,” Michael interferes. “You don’t get to call her Katie. That’s my thing.”
And then I feel the redness creep its way to my face. I can practically feel my ears glowing red. Fantastic. I’m no longer just a misplaced thumb. Now I’m aswollenthumb.
“Hello, Kate, I’m Vince,” the other one says.
“Hi,” I manage, my voice about two octaves too high. I clear my throat. “I mean—hi. Hello. Nice to meet—”
Michael slips a hand on my shoulder and I malfunction. “...your faces. You. Nice to meet you.”
They smile, polite and friendly, and I try my best to keep my cool as the four of us stand there like a sofa set with one wobbly leg. Michael lowers his head to mine and whispers, “Are you okay?”
I nod at him, and smile. But then he adds, “You’re blushing.” Understatement of the century. My face feels like a live volcano. “Wow, you’re that starstruck with these two?”
Oh. He thinks I’m flustered because ofthem.
“I’m not—” I start to say, but I stop because Chris and Vince start walking toward the court. Michael doesn’t press me, and we just follow.
I sigh and smile. No need to tell Michael that I am not blushing because of his friends. I mean, sure, they’re large towers, but they don’t make my heart do weird little flips and make my stomach want to combust. It’s the way he said that calling me Katie is his thing, and the way his stupid hand ison my stupid shoulder. It’s the little laugh he made. It’s my delusion.
He turns to me again and gives my shoulder a squeeze. “You okay now, tomato?”
I want to fall into the earth.
“Totally,” I say, voice tight. “Loving every second of this.”
I walk toward the bleachers, as fast as I can, and as calmly as I can. The way Michael reacted earlier made me feel a bit… weird. My naive little heart thought we hadsomething, but why would he think I would be flustered by his friends? Isn’t it supposed to be obvious that it’s because of him?
