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Christina Hammock Koch is not sure she’s ever liked Raegan Scharfetter. Right from the beginning there was just something about her that got under her skin. She wasn’t nice. Christina could see that, yet she didn’t understand why others couldn’t. Courtney wasn’t much better, except that Raegan lacked Courtney’s genuine kindness and the way she really did respect and like the Artemis II crew.
Raegan only liked herself. Christina could tell that from the beginning. And it wasn’t long after the young woman began working with the crew in 2023, that Christina could see it start to happen.
Reid was with Liz, who was harmless and kind, and pretty in an unreal sort of way. She weighed 85 pounds soaking wet and wasn’t exactly a Rhodes Scholar, but she was kind and sweet, and Reid really did seem to like her. Everyone did.
That didn’t keep him from treating her like crap. He wouldn’t commit to her, left her out of things, was distant with her. They’d been dating for about two years when he was selected for Artemis II, and Christina had never really thought about it that deeply. She didn’t live with Reid, they weren’t getting married, he wasn’t going to have kids with her, when all his energy went to his girls and his job. What was left went to Liz and there wasn’t much.
And when Raegan came on to the scene from PAO, Christina saw it right away. Like a moth to a flame, like a pirate to gold. She zeroed in on Reid and Christina knew—she just knew that this wasn’t going to end well.
She tried; she really did. She tried to find something endearing about her, tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. She tried to see why others liked her. But she couldn’t. What she did see was how she flattered Reid, manipulated him, how she talked down to Liz and laughed way too hard at Reid’s jokes.
Christina wasn’t sure—but she was fairly certainly that Rae and Reid started communicating outside of work not long after their initial 2023 meeting. Christina’s not sure how she got his personal number. She wonders if Reid gave it or if she got it from someone else. But either way, Rae knew about Liz. She didn’t care. To her, Liz was an obstacle that needed to get out of her way.
It wasn’t proper. She probably could’ve been fired if anyone had found out, if not because she did anything wrong, but because of how it would’ve looked if the story hit the media.
And there was something else—Victor had mentioned it in passing, and Jeremy was tight-lipped about it, but Christina was pretty certain that Rae had, for lack of a better word, stalked Reid at times. Not in a malicious way, but not in a benevolent way, either.
But she found out where he lived pretty early on. Showed up, invited herself in. She got under his skin, and buttered him up to the point that his attention waned from Liz, and she eventually left him in early 2025.
Christina had been sad to see her go, but she also hadn’t—because Reid as a single man was something she would never admit she’d been waiting for, and for a very long time.
But it didn’t last long. Rae didn’t go away. Reid licked his wounds as they hit the home stretch before the launch that was originally planned for late 2025, and then for February 2026, and before she knew it, Raegan was Reid’s girlfriend and she was gone from NASA.
Still, to this day, she’s not sure what happened there. She almost doesn’t want to know. But perhaps the reason why it ground her gears so much, other than the obvious reason, which she couldn’t think about right now, was because Rae knew that Reid wasn’t going to reject her.
He was—Christina hates using this word about a grown man—a pushover. It’s the whole reason she recommended a podcast on people-pleasing to him earlier in the year, because she could see Raegan infiltrating deeper and deeper into his life despite the fact that he didn’t treat her very well, and she didn’t think he even liked her that much.
She wanted him to stand up for himself. Not just with her, with everyone. She hated to infantilize a man who was married for seventeen years, flew Navy fighter jets, was a test pilot, raised two daughters mostly on his own, and buried his first wife after five years of a devastating cancer battle.
But he was like a kid. Ripe for the picking. He would go along with anything. He’d get into a car with people he didn’t know. He’d make a friend out of anyone. He had no sense of self-preservation sometimes. And Rae had seen that. She’s also seen an attractive astronaut and widower, a man set to retire and rake in the endorsement and public speaking and lecture-circuit cash and a way for her to grow her career from small-time photographer and author and fairly successful communications wonk to filmmaker or high-brow photographer or whatever she thought Reid was going to get her.
Christina’s not sure if Raegan wanted kids. She’s also not sure if Reid got a vasectomy and unsurprisingly has never found the opportunity to ask. But a very scary thought hits her some nights at about 2 AM and it involves Reid coming to tell her that Rae’s pregnant.
She hates how much that will kill her. And it will really kill her. Like a knife to the chest. The kind of heartbreak that would take years to recover from.
So as she and Reid greeted Jeremy and Victor earlier, who’d both flown in from Calgary and California, respectively, Christina was suddenly very acutely aware that Raegan was in the next room with Dionna, who, for some reason, had taken the young woman under her wing and was usually spotted as a three-person group with Rae and Bob, and with Catherine when she was here. But Catherine wasn’t here. She’d flown back home to Ontario from Calgary.
And Bob wasn’t here, either.
It was after the Q&A, during which Christina could see his stupid face watching her out of the corner of her eye like she was the love of his life, when they were onstage for the presentation, that she saw Reid give someone a thumbs-up. Curious, she turned and saw exactly who it was. And she wasn’t sure she was able to control the feelings that that brought up. She knows there was a number of people taking videos. She wonders how well she hid her disdain.
Later, they climbed up on the main stage. Rae and Dionna were stage left, in the front row. Christina could feel them watching. Christina could also feel the tension every time Reid looked at her—like an invisible electric field. It was so intense—and she could see him watching her, see him laughing a little too loud at her lame jokes, like some high school kid with a crush, and she struggled to keep the anger, the resentment, the jealousy, the hopelessness and the grief under wraps. Because Rae was watching.
It was a fucked-up situation. “I love drama,” Reid had said a month ago, after he’d sweetly come over to illustrate her story about seeing the unseen side of the moon, when she’d felt the heat coming off him, had seen him watching her when she told her story about Space Camp, his face open and sweet and full of love for her and unable to look away, and now he was over her next to her, telling her story because he loved her so much he needed for her to be understood.
Or that’s what she thought. It’s what she understood. Because now she’s on a stage and she sees him look at Rae, and spikes of cold jealousy pierce her chest and stomach. She feels sick.
But she doesn’t show it. She smiles and they all wave good-bye and head back to their green room, and they all hug, a group hug, after this one last NASA appearance. The last of their outreach tour. Victor has already moved on and he is living his best life. Jeremy’s back home and evidently Canada suits him, because he already seems calmer and more settled, and the only two left are her and Reid.
They hug, they cry. They promise to keep in touch.
“Hey,” Reid says, after they’ve all wiped their eyes and caught up. “I’m the Commander. That means I open up my house to you guys. Tonight. Come on over, I’ll fire up the grill and light a fire. Bring everyone and we’ll have some fun.”
They all agree. Christina smiles. They say good night to Vanessa and Howard, and there are tears in their eyes, too. Artemis II is no more. It sits in her stomach like a lead weight sometimes. She wonders—no, she won’t, not now.
She gets into her car eventually. She watches Reid and Rae walk back to his, watches how little he seems to look at her or listen to her. It’s no great love story. She knows that. Reid doesn’t want to be alone. He’s never been one for casual sex, but he’s not ready for a relationship, either. Which is why this arrangement works for him. She wonders how long it’ll work for Raegan.
She sits and waits and watches them drive out, watches Dionna and Corrine and Victor leave. Jeremy leaves, too, and she watches him go, waits ten minutes, and then follows them to Friendswood.
When she gets there, there’s music blaring in the back yard. Reid has the grill fired up and is making hot dogs and burgers. Rae and Dionna are roasting marshmallows. Everyone greets her happily. Jeremy gives her a hug. Victor and Reid both smile at her, except that Reid doesn’t look away.
“Hey,” Jeremy says, “come sit with me.”
So she does. They chat amiably as she glances at Reid from time to time, finding him either watching her or just looking away. Jeremy notices. He notices everything but he pretends like he doesn’t.
“Is this still—”
“Yeah,” she says.
“Just tell him, Christina.”
She just takes a swig of the beer someone placed in her hand when she got here.
“You can now,” he says. She looks at him. So he knows, then. Catherine told him after Christina called her to vent.
“I don’t know about that,” she says. She glances at Rae. Jeremy follows her glance. He sighs. Christina looks at Reid and sees that he saw all of that.
About an hour later, Christina is considerably drunker. She didn’t mean to be. But today has stirred up emotions that she didn’t ask for. Even if Reid will be spending several days a week at JSC, and even has an office, she also knows he has an empty nest. He has more time on his hands, now. He can do more, now. And she’s terrified of what he’s going to do with his newfound freedom and time.
They sit around. Victor tells that stupid story about Jeremy and the bathroom. Reid teases her about the Mach numbers and she feels her face flush as she looks at him, unable to keep her feelings from showing. Maybe she can’t tell him how she feels. Maybe she’s too much of a coward for that, but she sees it—he knows. And not only that, she sees it reflected back at her.
And a quick glance at Rae tells her that she sees it too, and she’s not happy about it.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she says, and gets up.
What she needs is air. She heads back into the house—this house of Reid’s. Five bedrooms, two and half baths, way too big for one man. She wonders how long he’s going to keep it, but then she knows he could never sell it. All the memories. Where Carroll spent her last few months. Where she died.
She heads into the downstairs bathroom and goes pee and washes her hands and looks at herself and makes a face. She looks tired. And she is. But she really looks her age tonight. And part of her wonders how she’s supposed to compete with a—
“Christina?”
It’s Reid.
“Reid,” she sighs, shaking her head. “What do you want?”
“Can I come in?”
“Why?” she asks. She’s tired and drunk and emotional and irritable.
“Please?”
She opens the door, and he comes in. It’s not a big room. Just a half-bath, toilet and sink.
“What?” she asks, crossing her arms. He sighs. His flight jacket is gone, his shirt is untucked. He’s in sock feet for some reason. His hair is mussed and there are dark circles under his eyes.
“Christina—” he sighs. “Do you not like Rae?”
She laughs. She shakes her head. “What would make you think I ever liked her, Reid?”
He sighs. “Why don’t you like her?”
“I don’t have to—”
“Christina, I’m serious, I’m asking you.”
“Fine—I don’t like her because she went for you the moment she saw you and she didn’t care who she hurt or who was in her path. She’s way too young for you. And you just let her. Just let her walk all over you and let your relationship to Liz wither away and you didn’t set the boundaries with her that you should have. You were an Artemis astronaut and you let her just waltz into your life. What she did was unprofessional and mean and—I’ve heard other things. She’s not nice. She’s manipulative. And I just can’t get a read on her. I don’t know—there just doesn’t seem to be anything genuine about her. I don’t even know if she likes you or she just sees dollar signs when she looks at you. Opportunities and clout.”
Reid’s eyes widen and he crosses his arms. “I see,” he says. He takes a breath. “Is that the only reason?”
“Fuck you, Reid,” she says, trying to push past him to get out.
“Whoa, wait,” he says, grabbing her arms and gently trying to push her back. “Christina, just—”
“Let go of me!”
He does. Puts his hands up toward her in a gesture of mock surrender. She crosses her arms again. He breathes, puts his hands in his jeans pocket.
“Christina, where’s Bob?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“No, it is my business, Christina.”
“Why?”
He looks up at her, and she almost caves when she sees his face. He’s deflated, emotionally spent, completely and totally shattered.
“Because I care,” he says. “More than I should.”
“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” she says. Her heart is racing beneath her shirt but she won’t let him know. She can’t. She’s sure her voice is shaking but she doesn’t care.
“You’re jealous,” he says, and when he says it, it’s not an accusation. It’s a revelation. His eyes widen and his face transforms, blooming like a flower. “Christina,” he says, and he steps toward her, but she steps back.
“Don’t,” she says. She’s crying. Fuck! She didn’t want to cry.
“Why are you jealous, Christina?”
“Just get the fuck out of here, Reid!”
He steps over, grabs a tissue off the bathroom counter and hands it to her. She grabs it and dabs at her eyes.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asks.
“I’m not—” he groans, rubs his face. “Christina, where is Bob?”
She tries to pull herself together, but she just cries more. Her chest shuddering, her throat burning.
“Sweetheart,” he says, taking another tissue, and it’s like a spike to her heart, this pet name, now. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know!” she says, grabbing the tissue from him and wiping her eye.
“What, you mean you really don’t know?”
She shakes her head. “I think—I know he’s alive. He’s probably with his mother. But I haven’t talked to him since—the Sunday we got back from California.”
“Christina, that was two weeks ago!”
“I know,” she says. “It’s fine. I know he’s alive. We just haven’t talked.”
“What happened?”
“We had a fight,” she says. “Sunday when we got home.”
“And he just flew the coop? Didn’t tell you where he was going?” She nods. “Is he drinking?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“What did you fight about?”
“I told him—I told him it was over.”
And then she sees Reid’s entire form soften, the wind go out of his sails. “Christina,” he says, stepping toward her, concern on his face.
“Don’t!” she says. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Reid, I can’t—I can’t take it from you, not now.”
“I’m not—I don’t feel sorry for you. Christina, I’m so sorry.” He lands a hand on her shoulder and gives it a stout squeeze. Then he lets go. “But, Christ, Christina, I’m not going to pretend like I’m not happy to hear it.”
“Fuck you, Reid,” she says, shaking her head. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to say that to me when you’ve been parading her—”
“Why are you jealous of her, Christina?”
“Reid—”
“Please, just please answer—”
“I’m not—”
“Christina—”
“You know why, Reid!” She exhales forcefully from her nose like an angry horse and glares at him and she hates him at that moment, hates all of this, how fucking miserable they both are and how, as sad as she is about Artemis II ending, she really only cares about where one of the crew members is going to end up.
He nods, crosses his arms again.
“You can answer something for me,” she says, wiping her eyes and clearing her throat. “Why did you decide to take a paid Emeritus position with NASA and stay at JSC? You could’ve done teaching like Victor, you could’ve moved up to College Station to be with the girls. Why did you stay here with me?”
“You know why, Christina,” he says.
And she falls apart. She sobs, and feels like something in her just lets go. Like a plug has come out, the finger out of the dam, and she feels his arms around her, feels his hands on her back. She presses her face against his neck and cries, holds on to him like he’s the only thing tethering her to this earth.
She cries until she can’t anymore. She feels Reid’s hands in her hair, on her neck. She feels his lips kiss her head.
“Reid, I can’t—I can’t go on working with you if—if you’re going to be with her.”
“I know,” he says. His hands go to her face and she pulls back to look at him and she almost starts crying again when she sees it—everything she’s been seeing for months, for years, even. The tenderness, the happiness, the hope. “Is it over with Bob?”
She sighs.
“Because, Christina, if you go back to him after this, I might not be able to survive it.”
“I know,” she says.
“And you know, if he really loved you, he’d tell you he was alive. So you wouldn’t worry.”
She wants to cry again, she wants to rage and tell him he has a lot of nerve, but she doesn’t.
“You’re right,” she says. She sighs. She nods—slowly at first. She thinks of Bob, of the accusations he made about Reid, how he cried and raged and how he deactivated his Instagram about two hours after she took Sadie and went to stay with a friend.
By the time she brought the dog back home the next day, he was gone. And then his Instagram reappeared, after numerous texts from friends wondering if everything was okay which she had to answer with a lie, but he was gone. And she had texted him, called him. Called his mother. Nothing. 11 years of marriage. 13 years together. And nothing.
She looks up at Reid. She nods stronger. “It’s over,” she says.
She sees the relief flood through him, sees the life in his eyes again.
And then, his hands framing her face, he kisses her. And the small sound she makes isn’t intentional. It’s surprise, and then, it’s the pieces falling into places. Her mouth melts under his. Her hands go around his waist, his are in her hair.
It’s 13 years of indecision and waiting and watching and she feels for the first time in a very long time, like just maybe, things are going to be all right. But then the door opens.
“Reid?” asks a female voice and Christina pulls away not quickly enough to see Raegan Scharfetter’s 29-year-old normally inscrutable face with a very scrutable expression—complete and utter disbelief.
And from then on, it’s chaos. They pull apart like teenagers. Reid tries to placate her. She screeches about how she knew all along, Reid has to hold her back from getting to Christina. He tells her to leave.
By then, Jeremy has come to see what’s going on.
“Did you know?” she screeches at him. Jeremy can only give her a mirthless, tight smile. “I guess I was the only one who didn’t know, then.”
“You knew,” Christina hears herself say, and Reid turns to her in surprise. “You just didn’t think I was anything to worry about. And not because I was married.”
“Yeah, well I’d like to hear what Bob thinks of this,” Rae says, grabbing her coat and bag.
“Bob and I are done,” she says, and the finality of it shocks even her. Jeremy gives her a sympathetic smile. There’s no surprise there. She called Catherine from her friend’s place after she left the Galveston house and spilled her guts, knowing she’d tell her husband as soon as she could.
“Well, I hope you’re both happy together.” She shakes her head. “Good luck with the press. I’m sure they’re going to be really interested to know that this has been going on all along.”
“It really hasn’t,” Christina says, all the spitefulness gone from her body. She’s tired, now. Bone-tired and sad and happy but afraid.
“You’re really telling me that was the first time you kissed?”
“It was,” Reid says, stepping up behind Christina and putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rae. But I should’ve ended it a long time ago. I’m a coward.” He sighs. “But I’m in love with Christina and—that’s really all you need to know.”
She just looks at them both with that inscrutable expression. Christina has no clue what she’s feeling—anger, grief, pain? She doesn’t know. She plays her cards close to the vest. Then she turns on a heel and she’s gone.
“Phew,” Jeremy says once she’s gone, her car screeching down the street. “You really do like drama, don’t you, Reid?”
“Jeremy?” he asks, eyebrows raised, and Christina can see he’s holding on by a thread.
“I’m goin’,” he says, heading through the sliding doors to the back yard.
Reid turns to Christina once he’s gone. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think she was going to—”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s fine. Should’ve locked the door.”
He laughs. He looks at her. “Christina, I want to make a life with you.”
She feels herself losing control again, her eyes burning, her chest tight. “Reid,” she scolds.
“I do,” he says. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. He kisses her head softly. “I love you.”
She looks up at him, sees all the love he’s just professed on his face. And the hope. The same hope she feels bubbling up under her heart. The possibility of a life. When she all but thought hers was over. “I love you, too,” she says. “I have for—a long time.”
He smiles, broadly, like she’s never seen him smile before. He kisses her again, chastely this time. Just a promise of things to come.
“Now, come on,” he says. “Let’s head back out there. I’m sure we gave them all a lot to talk about.”
She laughs and rests her head against his shoulder.
“Let’s,” she says, and she follows him.