But when I pull my phone out, it’s not Thomas’s name that lights up my screen.
ÉTIENNE:Can we talk?
Chapter 31
Thomas
I’m going to be late for dinner with Stella and it’s all Arlo fucking Wood’s fault.
Normally I might respect his dedication to making sure he’s informed about the car’s specifications for the season, but tonight I want to slap my hand over his mouth and tell him to quit it with the questions. Preseason testing in Bahrain isn’t for another two and a half weeks, anyway. We’ll have plenty of time to talk to the engineers before then; none of this has to be discussed tonight.
I’d still want to shut him up even if I didn’t have Stella waiting for me, mostly because his voice is the most irritating sound in the world now. It’s my newfound distaste for him shining through, I know that, but he’s like a little yapping dog who won’t be quiet.
“We’ll wrap things up there,” our team principal announces, and I’m out of my seat at the conference table in a flash.
I don’t care if anyone thinks I’m rude for striding out with only a half-assed wave goodbye, but I’ve got somewhere to be and a long-awaited conversation to have. Stella’s text earliernearly stopped my heart. To say it was unexpected would be the understatement of the century, considering she’s been so hell-bent on avoiding me lately.
Part of me was tempted to ignore her like she’s been ignoring me. It was petty and childish, not my usual style, but that’s what her rejection has brought out in me—this unsettled desire to make her feel as uncomfortable as I do.
It was unfair, though, so I messaged back once the feeling passed to say I’d be there by eight. I’ve been staying at the team apartments for the past few days, and these evening meetings aren’t a problem when all I have to do is drive ten minutes down the road, but if I want to make it back to London before eight, I should have left thirty minutes ago. It’s seven now, so barring any traffic and a few—okay,a lotof—broken speed limits, I might get there just a few minutes late.
“Thomas! Wait a second.”
I roll my eyes but don’t slow at Arlo’s shout. “I’ve got somewhere to be, Wood.”
His sprinted footsteps follow, and soon he’s falling in next to me. “My, my. Old man’s got plans?”
“Something like that,” I answer, eyes straight ahead as I push through the doors that lead to the lobby.
“Color me shocked.” I catch his grin from the corner of my eye, but it flickers a little when I don’t return it. “You all right? You’re an odd one on a good day, but you’ve been off all week.”
I wonder why you think so, you backstabbing gobshite.“Absolutely fine.”
He eyes me cautiously, not buying it, but I don’t care what he thinks at this point. My goal is to survive the season together, and if his role in leaking the video comes to light, he’ll get his answer as to why I’ve been distant.
“Everything good at home?” he asks, like he’s figured outthe reason for my discontent. “Trouble in paradise already? Didn’t you twojustget married?”
I don’t reply. Partially because he’s right but mostly because it’s none of his business and I don’t owe him a damn thing.
“Wait, don’t you have another wedding coming up?” Arlo pushes. “I swear my assistant said she got an invitation. I can’t believe you didn’t hand deliver it to me. I’m hurt, Tommy boy. I thought we were closer than that.”
My fists itch to wipe away his smug smile. How did I ever think anything about him was endearing? He’s pure smarm hidden behind the facade of a racing driver.
But it’s his mention of the wedding that has something deep in my chest twisting. The date looms ever closer. Five days from now, Stella and I will be publicly declaring our commitment to each other. Or at least I hope we will be, because with the way things have been, I don’t know if she’s going to want to go through with it. Hell, I don’t know if she wants to even be in the sameroomas me.
Although, she wouldn’t have asked me to come home for dinner if she couldn’t stand me, would she? I don’t know exactly what she wants to talk about, but I’m taking it as a good sign that she’s cooking. A woman who hated me certainly wouldn’t dothat…unless she’s trying to let me down gently before declaring she has no intention to meet me at the altar.
Fuck, I need to be home.
“Have a good night, Arlo,” I say as I step out into the frigid February night.
Thankfully, he gets the hint and falls back, letting me walk off to the car park alone. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had his suspicions about me discovering his misdeeds, but I won’t say anything directly. He can sit and stew.
And sitting and stewing is all I can do as I make the torturous drive back to London, though with each passing mile, I swear my heart beats a little faster at the prospect of seeing Stella. I’vemissedher. I’ve missed our conversations and our easy mornings and our dinners together. I know it’s not all down to her specifically avoiding me—our individual careers really have taken over—but I’ve been miserable without her infectious humor and unwavering belief in me. I want it back. Ineedit back. I needher.
By the time I park and push through the front door, I’m near to bursting with everything I want to confess. It all starts with us going through with the wedding and letting it mark a fresh start for us. I want it to be the beginning of us being together as a real couple, not as two people playing pretend. Yes, we have a legally binding contract tying us together in matrimony, but we could ignore that and just…date. Learn about each other organically, with no pretenses and no acts to put on. It would just be us. No secrets, no lies, and nothing to fake.
“Stella?” I call out as I set down my bags, but I get no answer.
