Page 80 of The Art of Catching Feelings

His mouth twisted in a poor imitation of a smile. “You took the job to be closer to me. And just didn’t tell me that’s what you were doing.”

Okay, yes, when he put it likethatshe could see how it sounded absolutely deranged. “Subconsciously, you were definitely a big reason why I took the job. But at the time, I wasn’t thinking of it that way. Itriedto keep my distance. I thought I could cut off the chat as Duckie, and you’d never have to know. I thought I could just ask you a few questions after a game, keep it professional, and it wouldn’t have to affect anything.”

Ahead, the light changed and Chris slammed on the brakes to stop at the intersection. His knuckles on the steering wheel were white from how tightly he was holding it. “You must think I’m a real idiot.”

“No, I—”

“Of course you couldn’t use those tickets for the game,” he said. “You wereatthe game. Of course you couldn’t give me your number.I already had your number. And you know the worst fucking thing? This whole time, I’ve felt bad. I’ve felt terrible. I felt somehow disloyal to Duckie—which, Jesus, what a joke—and then anytime I thought about Duckie I felt disloyal toyou.”

He gave a harsh laugh that shredded something inside her. “Duckie,” he said. “Daphne. Daffy Duck. Come on, admit it. That had to make you laugh that I couldn’t figure that one out.”

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t a joke. Please, if you believe nothing else—”

“How can I believe anything you say? You’ve been lying to me thiswhole time.”

They’d reached his building, and he pulled the car into his space, shutting it off but still just sitting there, like he couldn’tbring himself to move yet. “That first night, when I told you in the hotel bar that there was someone else. You already knew about that—youwerethe someone else.”

“I know,” she said. She wasn’t going to try to minimize or hide behind most of her lies being ones of omission. It was just as bad, and she knew that. “You have every right to be angry. If I were you, I would be. All—”

“But itwouldn’tbe you,” he said. “Because I would’ve never done this to you.”

He got out of the car then, shutting the door behind him. Daphne had to fumble with her seat belt several times to get it to unbuckle, and by the time she followed him, he was already halfway to the elevator. She had so much she wanted to say, but her throat was closed up. They rode all the way to his floor in tense silence, Chris with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall of the elevator like he physically wanted to be as far from her as possible.

“Chris,” she said once they were in his condo. He still hadn’t turned to look at her, taking the time to put his wallet and keys on the dresser in the bedroom like it required his full attention. “Please, listen to me. I know I fucked up. I know I let this get out of control. I did lie to you, and I am so, so sorry—you have no idea how sorry. But I swear to you, none of the important parts were lies. The things I said, the way I feel, those have all been true.”

“The important parts.” He snorted, like he found something about that funny, but his expression when he finally turned to face her had no trace of humor in it. “Do you know how shitty it felt, to have Duckie just disappear on me like that? How many times I read back through our conversations, trying to see where I’d gone wrong, if there was something I could’ve said or done differently to make her want to meet up, to share more of herself?”

Daphne didn’t know what to say. Of course she’d thoughtabout how Chris might be affected by the way she ended their text relationship. But she’d also thought…well, it sounded so stupid now. She’d thought it couldn’t have matteredthatmuch to him, that he’d move past it pretty quickly. It would be a minor disappointment, a blip, but it wasn’t like they’d ever called what they were doing a relationship, and he hadn’t even known her real name. How serious could it be?

But of course it had been serious. It had been serious forher—enough that she’d wanted to end things via text to give herself a chance to be with him in real life. She could see that now. And it had been foolish and cruel for her to not see how serious it had been forhim. He’d told her. She just hadn’t believed him.

“Except one night when we shared quite a lot of ourselves,” Chris said. “Do you remember?”

He had to know she did. The question had to be a way to twist the knife just a bit more, although his tone had been almost crushingly matter-of-fact. He was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, like he didn’t know if he wanted to be in there or out in the main living area with her. Behind him, she could see his bed, the covers still rumpled from the way they’d left them that morning. She stepped closer, wanting to go to him, but she felt repelled away like there was an actual force field around his body.

“And then do you know how shitty it felt, to have my—well, whatever we were to each other—not even want to give me hernumber? What do you think I made of that?”

Whatever we were. She’d known it was coming, but still the past tense gutted her more than anything else.

“I never meant for it to go this far,” she said, her voice shaking. Her eyes were filling with tears, her vision going blurry, but she willed them not to fall. Not because she cared if he saw her cry, but because she knew she didn’t deserve to be the one breaking down right now.

“How far was it supposed to go? Youfuckedwith me, Daphne, and I’m already—” The words sounded wrenched from some deep place inside him, like they scraped against his throat on the way out, and he seemed to forcibly swallow the rest of them down. “Were you ever going to tell me? What was the plan? We keep fucking but I just never get to meet your cat?”

That made her flinch. “I wanted to tell you,” she said. “I almost did so many times. But then Layla told me to wait until the season was over, that it would be a distraction you didn’t need…”

She knew that was a mistake the minute the words left her mouth. For one, it wasn’t exactly a mark in her favor to acknowledge what she’d planned. For another, she hadn’t meant to get Layla involved, or throw her under the bus in any way. She was just trying to convey that shehadthought about it, that she’d consulted with someone whose advice she valued especially when it came to how something might affect Chris as a player or a teammate.

“Wow,” he said. “Well, thank you. For considering my mental health. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Daphne had seen Chris stoic and reserved, she’d seen him upset, but she’d never seen him sarcastic like this before. And even though she knew she deserved it, that he wasn’t even saying half the things hecouldsay to her, the contempt in his voice still caught her raw.

“I wishyouwould consider your mental health,” she said before she could think about it.

He paused. When he spoke, his voice was low. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She’d said it; there was no taking it back. “Just that you can’t white-knuckle your way through the whole season,” she said. “You suffered a devastating loss, Chris. You’re grieving. And if it helps you to play baseball through it, that’s fine, if it would help you to take some time off, that would be fine, too, but either wayI think you shouldtalkabout it with someone, Marvin or Randy or one of the trainers, I don’t even know, but someone who could—”

“I toldyou,” he said. “Twice. I trusted you, and I told you. Twice.”

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