Page 62 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
Trying to ignore what Jules’ words are doing to my below-the-belt situation, I see our contractor inspecting the newly installed cabinets. “Hey Ray!”
The older man looks over, smiling when he sees Jules next to me. “Yeah, boss?” I honestly have no idea if he’s talking to Jules or to me.
“When you guys going to be finished so I can use my oven?”
Jules’ cackle is the craziest thing that has ever made me happy.
Pausing to give Jules an odd look, Ray snaps his measuring tape closed. “You’re looking at just a few more days. First the countertops, then the appliances.”
“And the countertops are arriving on time, right? I nearly got a splinter in my ass from the plywood here.” Jules raps the temporary cover laid over the new island with her knuckles.
“What in the world were you doing sitting on this?”
Jules throws me a look, which I know instantly makes my face heat like the Sahara. “Never you mind, Ray. Just tell me there will be countertops soon.Realcountertops.”
Ray chuckles, bending down to make a note on his clipboard. “Yes, Jules. Real, non-splinter-in-the-butt countertops should be installed the day after tomorrow.”
Jules winks at me. “Good to know.”
“Oh.” Ray looks up. “Almost forgot. A package was delivered for you.”
Jules’ whole body seems to still. She doesn’t even blink.
Frowning at her reaction, I ask, “Me?”
Ray shakes his head and points his pencil at Jules, who still hasn’t so much as blinked. “No, little miss here.”
It is a testament to how off Jules is acting that she doesn’t castrate Ray on the spot for the ‘little miss’ comment.
“Jules?”
Startled out of her trance, Jules clears her throat. “Uh, so where is it?”
“I think Melissa put it in your office.”
“Wait.” I look at her, her cheeks still pale. “Since when do you have an office?”
Without answering, Jules turns and walks to the far side of the kitchen. Even her movements are off. There’s no sway in her hips, no march in her steps. She seems… timid?
I throw Ray a worried glance, but the man is oblivious, still measuring and taking notes. It only takes a few strides and I’m right behind her, following her down the short hall, past the bathroom to the laundry room.
A laundry room that has also seen an update. This time not in flooring or cabinets, but in wall decor. Lists, like I saw in her apartment, hang around the room. A mini-fan hums next to her laptop on the small countertop across from the washer and dryer, the lists that aren’t completely taped down fluttering in the slight breeze.
But Jules’ eyes don’t stray to any of it. Her whole focus is on a small brown box sitting on the dryer.
“You okay?”
She glances nervously over her shoulder. “Yeah. Sure. Fine.”
“So,” I ask when she makes no move forward, “were you going to open it?”
“Yes.” She nods absently, biting her bottom lip.
More standing.
“Wantmeto open it?”
“No!” That gets her moving, taking one large step to the dryer. Then, almost violently, she grabs the box, ripping one side up, breaking through the packaging tape before throwing it back down on the counter. Taking a deep breath, Jules uses one finger to lift up the open flap, peering inside. “Oh.”
