Not yet.
“It feels different when it’s not just me and a tripod with my phone,” I continue.
He studies me for a moment, and this time his features soften. There’s an understanding in his eyes that wasn’t there before, despite barely knowing me. “You’ll do amazing,” he says with certainty.
I feel the heat creep up my neck at the confidence he sees in me and avert my gaze to avoid letting him see. Deep down, under the voices telling me I can’t, IknowI can do this. IknowI have what it takes, even if the house is worse than anything I’ve worked on. Even if the deadline is so tight. I have to believe I can do this.
Andrea jogs up to us with a few crew members trailing behind her. “Ready?” she asks, her tone chipper and excited.
I look up to Tucker and he’s already smiling at me. “She’s ready,” he answers for me.
“Perfect.” Andrea claps. “Let’s start out here with just Scottie. And before we go inside, we can set up on the porch and introduce Tucker. Does that sound like a good plan?”
I nod in agreement.
Tucker raises a pointer finger in the air like he’s in class and has a question. Andrea chuckles and waves a hand for him to ask. “So…like, what am I saying?” he asks, looking around. “Is there a screen with a script for me? Or whatever you call those things?”
“A teleprompter?” Andrea confirms.
He snaps his fingers and points to her. “That’s the one.”
“They’re a bit of a pain to carry around the renovation sites so we’ve always gone without one,” Andrea says with an easy shrug. “Will that be a problem?”
Tucker opens his mouth to answer, but stops. His jaw tightens, and he rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flick once toward the camera crew.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I feel my palm burn through his fitted T-shirt, and offer him the same confidence he offered me moments ago. “He’s got this.”
“That’s the spirit.”
She waves over two crew members, who clip a mic pack to the back of my jeans before discreetly placing the mic inside my blouse. Closing my eyes, I inhale and exhale a calming breath while straightening my spine. I allow myself to exude the confidence I know I have deep down.
The camera operator takes their position, pressing a button and adjusting the camera toward me. “In three, two—” He points at me, and a little red light blinks on.
Showtime.
“Hi, I’m Scottie Monroe, and welcome toNailed It or Failed It.” I smile, probably a little too wide. “This season, we’re taking on a home that’s not just another project to me. This one is personal.” I turn, angling my body to face the home. “This house belonged to my grandparents. It’s filled with memories and the kind of charm you can’t buy in a store.” I face the camera again. “But it’s also…well, let’s just say it’s seen better days.”
Nervous laughter escapes my lips, and when my eyes do a double-take, I spot Tucker behind the camera. There’s enough distance between us that he’s not hovering, but just enough that he can hear. His arms are crossed over his chest, muscles popping as he stands there tall and strong.
When the corner of his lip twists into a lopsided grin and he offers me a slight nod, I feel a calm wash over me as if his mere presence is what I need to get through this.
I prepared all night for what I’d say today, but the longer I stare at Tucker, the more everything I rehearsed goes out the window.
I avert my gaze to look back at the house. “My goal is to honor what was, while creating something new. This project won’t just be about making it look good on the outside, but also about making it feel whole again. A place to fill with memories,” I say, swallowing as I remember Tucker’s words from the night we met. “When I think of this house, I’d love to see it shine again. To bring it back to life. I want this house to represent second chances. Every wall we rebuild, every color we choose…it’s about reminding ourselves that broken and weathered things can still be made beautiful again,” I say, facing the camera again.
And this time, Tucker isn’t standing behind it.
We wrap up this first part, and as I turn to make my way to the front porch, I find Tucker again, standing off to the side leaning against his work truck, watching from a distance now. Our eyes meet, but it’s hard to read what he’s thinking.
Then…just the corner of his lips twists up in that lopsided grin again.
Just when I was starting to breathe again, he has to go and look at me likethat.
Keep it together, Scottie.
No distractions.
No feelings.
