After figuratively bumping into Richie Morrow on the way to the dugout, I literally collided with Jimmy Fallon, our team’s player-manager, as I sprinted onto the field.

“Hey, we’re playing softball, not football! Are you Evie? Trent said you’ve actually played before—”

I pulled my cap further down on my head and nodded. “Yes, skip. Well, baseball. I’ve never really played softball—”

“Whoa! A regular bad news bears, eh? You kinda look like Jodie Foster—”

“Believe me, skip, I’m nothing like Jodie.”

“Whatever. Get out there. You’re centerfield.”

We trotted out to the field. It was then I noticed that T-Mobile Park was almost filled to capacity with fans. The retractable roof was open, letting the late afternoon sunlight shine in all its early summer glory on the verdant grass. Jimmy went to first base as I settled into my defensive stance in centerfield, midway between Kevin Hart in left and Jake Gyllenhaal in rightfield. It was the top of the 2nd inning and Felix Hernandez, a retired Mariner great, was tossing slo-pitch to the visiting team. The game was scoreless. Ryan Howard, another retired ballplayer (a Phillies all-star in his prime), awaited the first pitch of the inning in the batter’s box. I moved back, almost to the temporary fencing they had installed at Little League distances solely for the celebrity softball game, respecting Howard’s powerful 6’4” frame.

Felix, although a Hall of Fame level pitcher in his time in the bigs, turned out to be eminently hittable, tossing from the softball circle, 43 feet from home plate. He gave up two runs, including extra base hits from Bad Bunny, JoJo Siwa, and Donovan Mitchell, a current NBA player. With two outs, he loaded the bases again with consecutive walks to Jennie Finch and Joel McHale. With The Miz, a superstar wrestler with bulging muscles and a decent swing, coming to bat, I positioned myself two steps from the fence, giving myself space to jump up if I had to. And I did.

The Miz sent a humpback pop fly toward the centerfield fence. I launched myself into the air and the ball nestled into my outstretched glove. It was the final out of the inning. The crowd roared and my teammates gave me high-fives as we returned to our dugout.

In the dugout, Kevin slapped me on the back. (Unnecessarily hard I might add) We sat next to each other on the bench as Felix walked by.

“Nice catch. I thought it was gonna clear the bases.” I smiled in reply, fidgeting with my cap.

Kevin stared at me for a long second. “So, you’re Trent’s new girl? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around—”

“Trent’s new girl? Well, I’m certainly a new girl. It’s only been a couple of months.”

“You a model, an actress?”

“I’m in sportswear—”

“Everyone’s a comedian! I didn’t ask you what you’re wearing. I can see that. What do you do?”

Skylar Astin, known for his character Jesse Swanson in the Pitch Perfect movies, interjected from the other end of the dugout, “She’s been cast in that new GlobalNet series that Trent’s starring in. Based on the movie Newport: It’s a Beach.” He smiled and waved.

Jimmy Fallon stopped in front of us and offered me a stick of bubble gum. “It’s Trident. I’d offer you some chewing tobacco but they want to keep the dugouts clear of puke before the home run derby tonight.”

“I’m good. I’m afraid I’d just swallow it if I had to slide headfirst like I normally do.”

“A regular Pete Rose we got here. You’re up third this inning. Go pick out a helmet.”

“You can use mine. Don’t worry. It doesn’t have cooties like Jake’s,” laughed Kevin as Jake Gyllenhaal walked by, chugging a bottle of water. He winked at me. I blushed and wondered why I’m suddenly noticing how attractive some guys are.

They had allotted an hour and a half for the game so when we came to bat in the bottom of the 4th inning, it was our last chance to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Behind 3 to 2, there were two outs and a runner on first base (Zach Lavine, another NBA player and native of Seattle) when it was my turn at bat. Jennie Finch, Olympic gold medalist, had come in to pitch for the save. Normally, it would be huge advantage Finch but, as this was slo-pitch, it was reminiscent of the tee-ball games we played as 4- to 6-year-olds. Still, Jennie could put a wicked spin on the ball, making it drop out of sight as it crossed the plate.

She got me to swing and miss on two of those spinners and I was down to my last strike when she left one up in the zone. Muscle memory kept my head down and still as I kept my hands back, swiveling my hips and timing the hanger just right. I barreled the ball and sent it screaming (well, not actually) over the leftfield fence. It was a walk-off home run! I rounded the bases as the hometown crowd exulted. Jennie tipped her cap as I approached home plate. I jumped on the plate and was immediately subsumed in a human cloud of my teammates. To my surprise, Trent came out of nowhere and hugged me, trying to lift me above the scrum.

“Trent! You look fine. You’re not hung over at all, were you?”

“Evie, it was my way of getting you into the game. And here you are, player of the game! You won the game!”

“Put me down! You tricked me!” I chased Trent around the field. We were both laughing and the crowd lapped it up, thinking they were watching romantic hi-jinks between a matinee idol and the newest ingenue. Finally, Mina Kimes, one of the ESPN reporters covering the celebrity game, signaled to us to stand by her and be interviewed before a national TV audience. A jubilant Jimmy Fallon was right next to her, beckoning us to come over.

“Evie Rivers, walk-off hero with a two-run homer in your team’s last at bat. Before I ask you the usual questions about what you were looking for and what you hit, I have to ask…who are you? You weren’t among the names on either roster.”

“I never planned on playing in the game. I’m sort of Trent’s guest.”

Trent leaned into Mina’s microphone. “Evie is a brilliant actress who’s co-starring with me in the new GlobalNet series, Newport, streaming this Fall. And quite a ballplayer, as you can see.”

“You know, Mina, from the very moment she crashed into me coming onto the field today, I had the inkling she was going to be our MVP. If she’s half the actress she is as a ballplayer, we’ll be seeing a whole lot more of her in the future, on TV, in movies, magazine covers—” babbled on Jimmy as Trent snaked his arm around my waist and snatched the cap off my head, allowing my hair to tumble down to my shoulders.

The rest of the interview pretty much passed me by as I was overwhelmed by the crowd, the camera, and the moment. I was relieved when Trent and I finally got the chance to change out of our uniforms and into our civilian clothes. The Mariners’ training staff was kind enough to allow me to use the shower in the trainer’s room…a chivalrous gesture for my privacy. JoJo Siwa was loud in her protests over my preferential treatment. “She’s not the only woman here, man!”

As Trent and I hurried out of the stadium, our luggage in hand, headed for the rental car in the parking garage and hoping to elude rush hour traffic on our way to the airport, Richie Morrow caught up with us just before Trent pushed the exit door bar.

“Evie! Evie! You’re leaving?”

“Richie. I have to be back at work tomorrow morning. Our plane takes off at 10. It’s almost 7 now.”

“I was hoping we could spend some time together. I mean, you’re going the miss the game tomorrow. They tell me they might give me an inning—”

Trent took the luggage from my hands and started out the door. “I’ll wait for you at the car, Evie.” I turned back to Richie.

“I’m so happy you’re having such a great season. You’ll forgive me for not answering your texts but I’ve been really busy. New job, moving to LA…”

“Trent? Are you and he…is he?” I shook my head. “So, you’re acting now? You look…so good. I always thought you were pretty but, my God, you’re beautiful!”

“We’ll talk, Richie. After the season, either you could visit me in LA or I could see you in New York.”

“Don’t forget me, Evie. Promise.” I reached up and caressed his cheek, surprised how soft my hands had become as I felt the bristles dig into my palm.

“I won’t, Richie. Good luck tomorrow. Don’t drop your arm on your sweeper. Remember.” I pushed the exit door bar and gave Richie one last finger wave.

“Are you always acting, Trent?” I looked at Trent as he took his earbuds out and turned to me. We were flying business class, scheduled to land at LAX sometime before 1 in the morning.

“How so?”

“You asked me to ride with you in the 4th of July parade. You insisted I come with you to Seattle. All of this was just to get some free publicity for your new TV series. I’m not even signed to a contract yet—”

“That’s a mere technicality. Your agent will haggle with the producers. It’ll get done. And I do have feelings for you, Evie.”

“Do you really? What if I had botched the screen test? Would you still have invited me to the parade and Seattle?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Evie. Like Danny says, there’s something very special about you. It’s a bonus that I’ll be working with you but I am attracted to you. A great deal.”

“Juan warned me you were a player. We should just keep our relationship professional from now on.”

“Is that how you feel? Maybe you’re the one who’s acting. I thought you and I had a certain electricity between us. My mom is already planning the wedding. She’s convinced we’re a match made in heaven.”

“We hardly know each other, Trent. You absolutely know very little about me.”

“Oooh, a woman of mystery. So, do I get three guesses as to what your big secret is?”

“You’d never guess.”

“You’re really a man!”

I almost jumped out of my seat but managed not to scream. The stricken expression on my face alarmed Trent.

“Calm down, Evie. I’m joking. Don’t count that as a guess. Let me think—”

“Let’s drop it, Trent. I’m going to use the free wi-fi and check my texts. Go back to listening to your own beats.”

“Maybe I can get Tim Henson to lay down a solo for this track,” he mumbled as he replaced the earbuds. “Is he with CAA? Can you talk to Juan about hooking him up with us?”

The unforeseen consequences of Trent’s handiwork started to bleed into real life when we landed at LAX. The moment we stepped off the escalator to enter the terminal meeting area, we were deluged by a veritable sea of cameras. Correction: I was the target of all this attention. Trent gleefully passed through the throng almost incognito. Even before I could catch up with him, a small but persistent group of fans asked for my autograph. Apparently, in the three hours I was in the air, I had become a national celebrity because of my softball heroics. And Trent had added the imprimatur of television ingenue to boot.

I walked into my office on Tuesday morning and found a soft-boiled egg snugly sitting in a solitary egg cup on my desk. Before I could call the kitchen and ask Kyle if he had placed it there, Mei Ling showed up in the doorway, cutlery In one hand and a plate of whole wheat toast in the other.

“I figured you wouldn’t have had time for breakfast. After all, you landed at LAX after one in the morning. How much beauty sleep did you really get? And getting enough sleep is crucial for a growing girl like you.”

“You shouldn’t have, Mei Ling.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem. Are you going to crack that egg or should I do that for you?”

“I can do it myself, Mei Ling. Now if you’ll let me eat in peace… Thanks for your thoughtfulness. It’s appreciated—”

“I only wish I could do more—”

“I’m sure you do. Close the door behind you, please.”

Our presentation on Wednesday to The Lakers went very well. I think a tentative agreement had already been reached by the time we played the short promotional video that the production house had delivered to us the day before. The first half hour of the meeting was monopolized by Magic Johnson singing my praises to the roof. Of course, everyone in the meeting had either seen my softball exploits live or replayed on social media. Magic had even arranged to show a video of my arrival at the airport and the ensuing chaotic scrum of real and ersatz journalists, autograph-seeking fans, and Trent Foster sneaking past camera range in dark glasses and a smirk.

The Lakers’ marketing staff asked more questions about Trent Foster than the custom sportswear the Sisters brand was offering. Chuck seemed miffed but didn’t interrupt as I answered as much as I could, given I had only known Trent for little more than a week. Everyone, including Magic, hugged me as the meeting ended. They perfunctorily shook hands with Chuck. By the end of the session, Chuck was an afterthought to the Lakers contingent. The head of marketing, a youngish man with a headful of dreads, made a grand gesture of handing me his business card. He asked me if I liked Kool & The Gang. They were appearing at the Hollywood Bowl on Friday and Saturday nights. Did I want to go? I stumbled over my words before Chuck interceded and said we were going to be late for our lunch meeting across town. Chuck took my arm and we walked quickly to the elevator.

“Thanks, Chuck. I didn’t want to reject the poor guy out of hand like that,” I said as we sat in his car, five minutes later. “You never know. He might have reacted badly and scotched our deal.”

“Looks like you’re getting a lot of practice at rejecting guys,” he mused, his foot on the brake as he pressed the engine start button, put the car in reverse, and backed slowly out of the parking space. His right arm looped around my shoulders absentmindedly as he looked through the rear window.

“Are you upset at me, Chuck?”

“Let’s go get lunch. Such a nice day today. The air quality’s better now the farther we get from the 4th. You can actually see the hills—”

“We should’ve packed a pick-a-nick basket, Yogi.”

“Don’t fret, Boo Boo. There’s a Ricky’s Fish Taco truck that’s parked outside of Echo Park. Are you up for some half-fish, half-shrimp tacos? I’ve got a beach blanket in the trunk.”

“Drive on, Jeeves.”

An hour later Chuck tossed the beach blanket into the trunk of his car and, looking toward the lake inside the park, laughed as he asked, “Have you ever pedaled a Swan boat?”

“Not since I was eleven. They have swan boats in Asbury Park in New Jersey, where I grew up.”

“I’ve seen pictures of those. The ones here in Echo Park are bigger and nicer looking. Let’s go rent one—”

“Chuck, don’t they expect us back at the office?”

“Hey, it’s good to be the king, right? I’ll go swan boating if I want. Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Not me. Let’s go.”

They gave us life jackets to wear. We looked quite a pair as we paddled out into the center of the lake, passing other mid-day revelers. The life jackets over our business suits, I’m sure, were seen as a comic juxtaposition.

“Now I’ve got you where I want. You can’t escape me now.” He laughed maniacally.

“I can stop pedaling and we’ll just go around in circles. Stop with the cackling.”

“Evie, how’s the contract talk coming along? Do you think Juan might not be in over his head? You’re his first client.”

“Juan is cool. He’s aggressive, takes chances. He’s what they call a go-getter.”

“Speaking of which, is acting what you want to go and get? You have an MBA and you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’re not just a pretty face. Which you are. I’m not saying—”

“I know what you mean, Chuck. Let’s just say, even two months ago, I could never have imagined being called an ingenue by the media. Never mind knowing what an ingenue was in the first place. It’s mind-blowing. I have to admit I like being complimented for my acting ability.”

“And celebrated for your looks?”

I turned to Chuck. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

“No. I don’t.”

Raising my voice along with my hackles, I protested, “Well, I never—”

“You’re not pretty. You’re beautiful. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, well…thank you…I guess.”

“Not saying that actresses aren’t smart but, Evie, you’re not an empty-headed booby. You’ve got a graduate degree in business and you’ve already proven to me at least that you’ve got a real talent for marketing. Why get involved with show business? There’s more crushing failure than transcendent success in that industry.”

“I want to give it a try. I’ll always have my business background to fall back on. And, last resort, I can go back to coaching baseball. I’m still in my mid-20s.”

“You stopped pedaling, Evie. We’re going in circles.”

“Stop talking. You’re distracting me.”

Dad: How’s Hollywood life, Evie? Consuela says all the doctors and nurses at the hospital want to know when you’re coming to visit. They all want autographs and selfies!

Me: It’s been less than a week but people seem to recognize me everywhere I go. Even at Trader Joe’s in San Gabriel. It’s funny being asked to take a selfie while you’re squeezing honeydew melons in the produce section. Debbie doesn’t like being ignored too.

Dad: I’m proud of you, Evie, but I’m also very worried. My two cents. Stick with the marketing job. How long do you think you can keep these Hollywood types from finding out?

Me: I’ve got it under control, dad. Don’t worry.

Dad: I have the money, Evie. Get the confirmation surgery now…before it’s a big mess.

Me: If I get the surgery, it’ll be with my own money, dad. Juan thinks he can get me a quarter of a million to work on this series with Trent.

Dad: Stay away from this Trent character. He’ll hurt you, Evie. Richie Morrow calls us here quite often because you never answer his texts. He’s a nice boy. I think he’d like you even if you told him your secret.

Me: I’m not interested in getting involved with anybody right now. My priority is my career. Whatever that might be.

Dad: Consuela’s got vacation time soon. We’re coming out to spend some quality time with our girls. I’ll keep you posted when we’re coming.

Me: I can’t wait, dad. We’ll show you the sights of LA. It’ll be fun! Love you, dad. And Consuela!

I looked across the coffee table from Juan Moskowitz as he told me the details of his negotiations with Alastair Knowles and the people from GlobalNet. Debbie and Otis were sitting on the loveseat, their jaws dropping as they heard Juan recap the series of offers and counteroffers. Juan aimed to impress us and he did.

“They were upping the offer even before I could turn down the previous one. They’re desperate to sign you, Evie. I don’t know if Trent had it all planned but the free publicity he got for you with the parade and the celebrity softball game made you indispensable to them. It almost doesn’t matter if you can act. Of course, you can. I saw the screen test. I was there.”

“I wish you had invited us, Evie,” whined Debbie.

“It wasn’t my call, Debbie. These things are pretty closed door, you know.”

“Anyway, as I was saying. You’ve saved them a lot of time and trouble promoting this new series. Sure, they’ve got Trent headlining but—you, Evie—you’re the lynchpin. They can get a lot of mileage with the two of you as a pair like Brangelina or Bennifer. You should look into hiring a manager. I can’t handle all the interview requests and photo opps I’ve been getting for you.”

“They’ll be thrilled to know Evie’s ready to bear his child—”

“Debbie!”

“Oh no, Evie,” Juan cried. “Getting pregnant now would be the worst thing for your career…and mine.”

“Don’t worry, Juan. Debbie’s just trolling. I’m not having anybody’s baby…and you can take that to the bank.”

“Good. You had me panicked there for a moment. Just use protection when you’re with this guy, Evie. I’ve heard on the down low he’s been a baby daddy more than once.”

“Look, that’s not happening so…what’s the final number?”

Juan handed me a copy of the contract. My eyes found the line that stated the amount and screamed.

“What is it, Evie? Is it less than the SAG minimum?”

“No,” I said, breathless. “It’s…it says here…it’s a million dollars!”

“U.S. dollars?”

“Of course, Debbie. Do you think they’d pay me in Iranian Rials?”

“Oh my God, Evie! You’re a millionaire! Sign that thing! Sign it now!”

“No hurry, Evie,” Juan interjected. “We could get more if we play hard to get. But show it to your attorney. See what they think.” He packed up his briefcase and stood up. “I’ve got a late date. Gotta go. I’ll check back with you on Monday or Tuesday. I’ll show myself out. Oh, by the way, I get the standard 10% fee. Just to remind you. Good night, kids.”

“We can get a car, a new apartment, new clothes…” Debbie turned her back to Otis and, under her breath, she added, “and you can get that…you know…done.”

“It certainly looks that way. I’m going to let Chuck look at this. He’s a lawyer, after all.”

“Yeah, but can Chuck be objective? He’d hate to lose you.”

“He can always hire another marketing person.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Chuck agreed to look over the contract although his expression showed a lack of enthusiasm for the task. As I placed the contract on his desk, he barely looked up from the putting set on his office floor. He missed a two-footer and cursed.

“Evie, just a minute. I might not be able to get to it until the weekend. How about we get together on Sunday and I’ll give you my take on the contract. The money certainly looks good but you might want some perks not mentioned.”

“Sure. Sunday. I can get Otis to drive me to your place in Corona Del Mar.”

“No need. I’ll pick you up. There’s a concert at the Hollywood Bowl I really want to see. Do you mind coming along? We’ll talk about the contract afterwards.”

“Oh…well…o.k. Who are we seeing?”

“They Might Be Giants.”

“Never heard of them. Are they like hip hop?”

Chuck laughed raucously. “Evie, you are the most delightful woman I know. Your sense of humor is fantastic—”

“I guess they’re not hip hop?”

Debbie surprised me by booking an appointment for me at this ritzy hair salon off Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills for Saturday morning.

“Why do I need to get my hair done?”

“You’re a movie star, Evie!”

“Television, Debbie. And I haven’t even shot a single scene of the show yet.”

“Whatever. You’re a star! You’ve got a shitload of split ends and I told them to give you more of an auburn tint. Not red, red but reddish brown. You’ll see. You’ll thank me later.”

“I suppose you’re getting your hair done as well.”

“Oh no. I’m not a movie star—”

“TV!”

“Same difference. Otis and I will drive you there and pick you up later. While you’re getting the works done, Otis and I will do some antiquing. There’re oodles of antiques places around there.”

“Those places are very expensive, Debbie. You guys don’t have that kind of…oh, I see. Spending my money before I’ve even seen a penny of it?”

“We’re not buying. Just pricing some items that we might buy. And, anyway, Otis said he’d pay if you refused—”

“Poor Otis. I’m going to bed. I’ll need to be wide awake for this salon thing tomorrow morning. You’re a great sister, Debbie. Just dandy.”

“Before you hit the hay, Evie, I want to show you this.” She fired up her laptop and typed in a URL, then pressed enter to start a video, turning the screen toward me.

“It’s your boyfriend Trent. He’s in Cozumel with that blonde bimbo, Bambi Bunson.”

“Who?”

“She’s that YouTube influencer who has like a million subscribers. She gives makeup and haircare tips to trendy young bimbos like her. That’s not a bikini. That’s dental floss! Look, Evie!”

“He can see other people. We have an open relationship. The same goes for me.”

“What other people are you seeing?”

“Well…uh…I’m going to see some hip hop act at the Hollywood Bowl on Sunday night with Chuck.”

“He’s your boss and you asked him for some legal advice. You’re not dating…or are you?”

“No, we’re not dating! Turn that off, Debbie. I really don’t care who he dates. He means nothing to me.”

“But you told me you wanted to have his babies.” I tossed a throw pillow at Debbie and stomped off to the bathroom. She cackled for five minutes straight.

My sleep was uneasy, filled with visions of Trent and that YouTube influencer frolicking in the surf in Cozumel and drinking tequila sunrises in cocktail glasses with tiny paper umbrellas, sprawled on pool chairs. Dental floss my ass! (that sounds painful) Then there was my anxiety about going to a hair salon for the first time in my life…as a woman. Peg’s help at the studio doesn’t really count. She put me at ease when I told her my secret. But these women at the Beverly Hills salon might not be as understanding or tolerant. For some reason, I kept flashing on that old Bugs Bunny cartoon where he pretended to be a beautician. I remember laughing at what Bugs did to Gossamer, the clueless monster sent to do away with him by a mad scientist. I identified with Bugs as a child. Now, would they see me as the monster instead?

I was standing on the corner of Rodeo Drive and Wilshire Boulevard, waiting for Otis and Debbie to pick me up, when a couple of people who looked like tourists starting snapping photos of me with their phones, speaking in some indecipherable foreign language.

I had just finished my session at the salon. I had to admit it went smoother than I had feared. In fact, the staff and even some of the other patrons asked for my autograph and a few obligatory selfies. Of course, they kept asking about Trent. The girl who washed my hair even tried to commiserate with me on Trent’s cheating treachery. I told her I’d get over it and he wasn’t all that after all. She clucked her tongue and shook her head in disbelief. “Oh no, you need to look the other way. He’ll tire of her and come back to you. You wait and see.”

So They Might Be Giants really weren’t a hip hop act. Who knew? Chuck is a big fan of theirs. He sang along with almost every song. I found them kind of nerdy but in a boho Brookyn Park Slope kind of way. Not my cup of tea but Chuck certainly enjoyed himself. Finally, after three encores, the concert was over and I thought Chuck would go over the contract with me.

We left the parking lot of The Hollywood Bowl and took a circuitous route along Cahuenga Boulevard to connect with Mulholland Drive. We reached the Overlook and Chuck parked. Just over the guard rails, we could see a beautiful view of the Hollywood Bowl, the lights of downtown Los Angeles at night, and, in the distance, the ocean and Catalina Island.

“I looked over the contract and everything seems copacetic. You know, Evie, you’re a very lucky girl. Not many actresses get a million-dollar deal first time out of the box. You should tip your hat to Trent, even if he is a cheating skunk. The guy knows how to promote.”

“So you think I should sign it?”

“I don’t see a reason for you not to sign it.”

“I’m worried about one particular thing though. It’s sort of a legal question. I’m afraid they might void the contract if they find out.”

“Find out what?”

“Sooner or later, you were going to find out, Chuck, so I might as well tell you. It’s not something I did intentionally. You have to believe me. Debbie’s the one who pushed me to do it—”

“What are you trying to say, Evie?”

I exhaled dramatically. “I’m biologically male. There, I’ve said it.”

“Is that all?”

“What? Aren’t you the least bit surprised…shocked…disgusted?”

“I already knew.”

“Oh no, Mei Ling told you, didn’t she? That busybody—”

“She did tell me the day after your screen test. But I already knew.”

“But…but how? Nobody ever seemed to suspect other than Mei Ling and she had to really dig to find out.”

“Maybe I’m a bit more observant that you give me credit for, Evie. It’s not important how I know. I do have a question for you, though.”

“Ask away.”

“Are you presenting as a woman to establish a career for yourself? Or are you genuinely gender dysphoric? Do you actually want to be a woman?”

I opened my mouth to answer but no words came out. Moments passed as I struggled to give Chuck an honest reply.

“Do you?”