The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(55)

Harsh words.”



Myrtle left her desk and came over to join us.



“But, seriously, what do the numbers look like?”



I slid the paper over to her so she could flip through it.



Helen appeared at her elbow, head tilted to the side as she studied the printed output.



“Something must have been mistranscribed on the punch cards.”



“That’s why I wanted the raw data, which really … how hard is it to figure out that you need to bring that with you?”



Nathaniel came into the computer room.



The giggles stopped and everyone returned to work mode.



He was my husband, but he was also the lead engineer.



I winked at Helen as she returned to her seat, then turned to give him my full attention.



His mouth was compressed in a narrow line, and a muscle bunched at the corner of his jaw.



Between his brows, concentration furrows had appeared.



He had a magazine rolled up in one hand and was slapping it against his thigh as he walked.



“Elma.



May I speak with you?



In my office.”



“Of course.”



Exchanging a look with Basira, I slid my chair back from my desk.



“If Bubbles returns before I’m back, will you just tell him to leave the raw data on my desk?”



As I followed Nathaniel out of the computer room, the other women did a pretty poor job of pretending not to stare at us.



Nathaniel’s back was rigid, and his strides ate up the length of the corridor that led to his office.



My heels clattered against the linoleum as I hurried after him.



Nathaniel held the door to the office for me, staring at the floor.



That muscle in his jaw kept clenching and

unclenching, and my heart seemed to be joining it in a race.



The last time I’d seen Nathaniel this furious was when he had fired Leroy Pluckett for grabbing one of the computers.



The usual organized chaos dominated his office.



The blackboard on one wall had been filled with what looked like equations for a lunar orbit, which made sense, given the next phase of the space project.



Nathaniel shut the door carefully, so it barely made any sound.



He strode across the room and tossed the magazine on his desk.



It unrolled as it hit—the issue of

Life I had been in.



I wasn’t on the cover, thank God, but there was a one-page write-up about my Girl Scout appearance.



At some point, I was going to forgive Betty for ambushing me.



Maybe.



She didn’t understand how much being the center of attention terrified me—but that didn’t stop me from feeling panicked that she would pull a stunt like that again.



Especially with how thrilled she’d been because her story had made it to a national market.



Nathaniel loosened his tie, still staring at the floor.



“Elma.



I’m furious.



It’s not at you.



But it’s going to sound like it is.”



“That … that sounds ominous.”



I sank into the chair near his desk, hoping it would inspire him to do the same.



He grunted, sweeping his hand over his hair, and then just … stood there, with one hand on his hip and the other gripping the back of his neck.



“It’s fucking stupid.”



“Nathaniel!”



I think that reaction is a permanent imprint from my mother.



“Fucking.



Stupid.”



He turned and glared at me.



“I have just spent the last fucking hour in the office of Director Norman Fucking Clemons who fucking said, and I quote, ‘Control your wife.’



I don’t think he appreciates the fact that I did not fucking slug him.”



My mouth hung open.



Brilliantly, I said, “What?”



“Control.



Your.



Wife.”



He brought his fists together and pressed them against his forehead.



“Control your—fuck him.”



“Wait—because of the magazine?”



If Clemons had said that to me, I might have been furious.



As it was, I was just horrified that I’d gotten Nathaniel in trouble.



“Or the Girl Scout appearance?



I didn’t … what did I say?”



He snatched the magazine from the desk.



“This?