It has been raining non-stop all week, causing delays and issues with getting the materials we need to complete projects. I kept insisting there has to besomethingwe can do inside to keep things moving along, but Andrea was adamant that we would be fine and we’re still on track to complete the house on time.
So instead, I filled the time.
I took a trip to the General Store to stock my fridge and spent a lot of hours back in the apartment, spreading the same floor plans I drafted up across the table and making sure they are absolutely perfect for the rest of the episodes.
Even with the dreary weather still lingering today, it’s let up enough that we can move forward. They needed to brighten up the space with studio lights so the cameras can capture everything. However, it only makes every stain brighter, every crack louder, and every crooked cabinet door feel like it’s mocking me.
No matter what lighting it’s in, though, this room is adisgrace. The entire kitchen is painted mustard yellow. Old, stained linoleum floors and cabinets painted in multiple shades of white with mismatched handles. Ideally, I’d like to gut the entire thing, install all-new cabinets, and completely reshape this space. But it’s not feasible. Not for the timeline to get this done on time.
Instead, we’re pulling the doors off the existing cabinets and replacing them. The base of them is sturdy and could use a good cleaning, but it works.
Even though my mom’s voice in my head tells me I can’t fix this, deep down, I know I can.
I plant my hands on my hips, trying to channel my bold confidence for the camera, rather than my rising panic.
The camera starts rolling, and I circle the space to take it all in one more time before announcing my plan to the camera for the start of the episode.
“I’m very excited about this space in the home. I believe this will be one of our biggest projects to tackle, but once it’s finished, I see it becoming the room everyone wants to be in.” I extend an arm to showcase what is there now. “I know we went through this in one of the earlier episodes, but as you can see, these cabinets really need a facelift.” I move to the wall and cringe in front of the camera. “And this color…needs to go.” I laugh lightly, letting my eyes travel to each corner of the room. “When I picture this room completed, I see creamy white paint on the walls to make the sage green cabinets I envision really pop.”
“Are you sure about that?” Tucker says, catching the end of my sentence as he walks into the kitchen.
Just seeing him sucks all the air from my lungs.
Because of the rain, I haven’t seen him since the night he drove me home from the bar, which was almost a week ago. I had to put some space between us before I let my body follow what it wants, versus my head telling me to keep my distance so I don’t get hurt again. We were so close to doing something neither of us could take back. I almost let myself fall into himwhen my desire was loud enough to drown out every warning. I chose distance over instinct. Staring at the ceiling all night, I don’t know if I saved myself, or walked away from something I wanted.
“What do you mean, am I sure?”
He shrugs, stepping into my space, making the kitchen feel way smaller than it is. “I’m just saying, you should consider something neutral. Something timeless.”
“Sage green is neutral.”
“It’s also going to look like leprechauns threw up on the cabinets.”
I narrow my eyes. “You know you’re only funny when you’re wrong, right?”
“Then I must be hilarious around you, babe.”
The camera guy snorts, and I turn on my heel before Tucker sees the way he so casually calls me babe makes my cheeks heat.
“Let’s just start by removing the doors,” he says, his tone shifting into that infuriating practical contractor mode. “These need to be gone before we figure out anything else. And there’s no sense in doing the flooring until tomorrow if the cabinet debris is going to fall on it.”
“That works, and then we can work on widening the window before we demo this wall that I want to get rid of.” I gesture to the wall behind him.
His eyes narrow. “Window, yes. Wall, no.”
“No?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Last I checked, this was my project. And if I want to open up this room, then I should be able to open up this room.”
Something that resembles annoyance flashes across his face, but it’s gone before I can even blink. He turns around, placing a hand on the wall and running his fingers along the old paint—assessing the entire thing.
“I told you before, this is a weight-bearing wall. It needs to be here,” he says, his back to me. “I double-checked it and it’s notsafe to tear it down,” he whispers, more for himself to hear than me.
I want to protest more.
I want to offer a solution like a pillar or something.
But I can’t find the words.
The way he says it, tells me that the wall is a trigger for him. I know it in my bones. I may not know what or why it is, but my gut tells me he’s carrying the weight of something far greater than he wants anyone to see.
