Page 15 of The Art of Catching Feelings

Layla rolled her eyes at Donovan’s question, but she reached out to squeeze her husband’s hand, a sign that she knew he’d been worried and appreciated his concern. “Technically it’s called anactivity restriction. It means pretty much what you think it does. No lifting anything or exerting myself too much. Looks like you’re on your own to paint that nursery, sweetheart.”

“I’m happy to help,” Daphne cut in, even though she knew it was about more than just the logistics of getting a single room painted. Some people you could imagine sitting still for long periods of time—Layla wasn’t one of them.

“What about work?” Donovan asked.

Layla shook her head. “I’ll have to take a leave—even if they end up doing the stitch, they said too much activity can put the baby at risk. And here we were, congratulating ourselves on threading the needle with that October due date.”

Daphne shot her brother a confused look, and he grimaced almost defensively. “What? The chances of the Battery making the playoffs are very, very low.”

Ah. She understood now. They’d been trying to time their pregnancy around the baseball season. “Did they win tonight?”

Now it was her brother’s turn to look confused. Which, fair. When was the last time she’d asked about the outcome of a game? But she’d been genuinely interested, before she’d been run out of the sports bar by the mob of fans who thought she’d been booing one of their own.

Okay, it had hardly been amob. And she kindahadbeen booing one of their own. But still.

He checked his phone. “Shit,” he said, and her heart dropped. Things had looked promising when they’d left. But then he bit hislower lip, pumping his fist once in victory. “They did, actually. Five to three. Not bad. The guy you hate scored a run in the second inning, and then put down a sac bunt in the ninth for the tying RBI.”

“I don’thatehim,” Daphne said.

“Sorry,” Donovan said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “The guy you reduced to tears. Better?”

Layla’s eyes lit up. “That’s right, that wasyou,” she said. “Between us, that guy is one of my least favorite interviews.”

“Really?” Daphne asked, trying not to look like the answer mattered that much to her. “Why?”

“He’s probably a dick,” Kim said. “Just think about the way he—”

Daphne gave her friend a sharp nudge to the rib cage, which was not at all subtle given that Kim immediately yelped, “Ow! What wasthatfor?”

“Let her answer,” Daphne said, trying to communicate with her eyes that she didnotwant to talk about the whole DMing-with-Chris-Kepler thing. It would needlessly complicate matters. Her brother would be angry that she was continuing to involve herself in his team and potentially his job, Layla would think she was a complete weirdo, and she’d be left trying to explain why she’d wanted to apologize but ended up somehow not apologizing at all.

Layla watched the interaction with a sharp look in her eyes. “Actually,” she said slowly. “He’s never been anything but polite. Almosttoopolite—that’s the problem. You can’t get anything out of him. He’s a steel vault. What did you say to him, anyway, that made him get upset like that?”

“I told you this,” Donovan interrupted. “She compared him to Winnie the Pooh.”

“I said hisplayingwas poo,” Daphne clarified. “I was drunk.I barely even knew what I was talking about. The guy next to me said…anyway, it doesn’t matter. I feel terrible about it, and I’m really sorry if it caused you guys any problems.”

Layla shrugged. “I don’t see why anyone would care. It probably would’ve been better if you’d at leastpaidfor the seat you were heckling him from, but it is what it is. If anything, I’m more worried about how all this time off is going to affect my job.”

This was one reason her sister-in-law intimidated her so much. She could casually rip you to shreds with a single comment—It probably would’ve been better if you’d at leastpaidfor the seat—but then pivot right to something else.

“They have to hold it for you, though, right?” Daphne asked. “Since it’s medical leave?”

“Sure,” Layla said. “Officially. But they’ll have to get someone to take my place while I’m out, and who knows. If the fans like that person better, or that person brings something to the table I can’t…”

“That won’t happen,” Donovan said, squeezing his wife’s shoulder. “You’re the best.”

Layla made a face like,I know I am, and Daphne found herself wishing she could have that kind of confidence. As it was, she ended up apologizing in every email she ever sent, even when she knew she was in the right about something.So sorry to bother you about this again, but…and then she would reiterate her fourth request to be paid for work she’d already done and the client had already used.Attached is a draft, but of course I’m open to suggestions if you had anything you wanted to add…even though she knew she’d delivered exactly what the client had requested, and if they wanted anything more they should really have to pay her extra.

“That little dillweed Preston’s been gunning for my job,” Layla said. “And the frustrating part is I could still dosomeof it.The prep work and the social media and all that—I just need someone to stand in front of the camera and point the microphone at Chris Kepler for his monosyllabic answers until I can return. Hell,youcould do that.”

“Me?” Daphne pointed at her own chest, even though Layla’s eyes were clearly focused right on her.

“It’d be hilarious. Hand the heckler a microphone and let her actually talk to the players.”

Daphne gave a nervous laugh. She was ninety-nine percent sure her sister-in-law was joking, but then again, Layla didn’t joke much. “Yeah, hilarious.”

“Most important,” Donovan said, “is that you and the baby stay safe and healthy. We can figure out the job stuff as we go.”

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