I don’t need Mommy to coddle me. I don’t need her cleaning up after me like I’m a child. I’ve already got a plan in place that helps not only me but Thomas too, which has given me an opportunity to start fresh in a new city.
She views everything I’ve done as a misstep. And she’s not wrong—none of this was meant to happen, and it’s put me on a different path than I expected. But I’m viewing my actions as stepping stones instead. They’re taking me to the life I want to be living right now. That Ineedto be living.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say calmly, even with fire ripping through my veins. “But I’ve got this handled.” Before she can say anything else, I push back my chair and then stand, smiling tightly across the desk. “Let’s go eat before the food gets cold.”
I catch a glimpse of her astonishment, but I don’t dwell on it. I just stride back out into the hall, though I don’t turn in the direction of the dining room, where the rest of our family islaughing and chattering, blessedly oblivious to our conversation.
My purse sits on the narrow table in the foyer, where I was forced to drop it when the aunts cornered me. I grab it without a second thought and pull my phone from my pocket. After tapping the screen to life, I navigate to my contacts and then listen to it ring.
“Maeve?” I ask when a woman’s groggy voice greets me. “Hi, it’s Stella. Listen, sorry to wake you, but do you think you can get me a paddock pass in the next sixteen hours?”
Chapter 16
Thomas
It may be nearly December, but the weather in Abu Dhabi didn’t get the message.
I’m dripping sweat as I push through my last flying lap in qualifying, gritting my teeth and praying it’s enough to put me in front of my teammate on the starting grid tomorrow. I wouldn’t normally be so pressed to outqualify Arlo or to prove I’m the superior driver in our pairing, but our reserve driver’s words from the last race linger in my head.
I still don’t know what Finley meant with his cryptic congratulations. Isn’t my seat safe for the rest of my contract? Isn’t there enough money behind me to keep me around even if my performance is lacking? Not that it is, considering I’ve at least placed on the podium this season, unlike Arlo.
Thankfully, my final lap time is enough to slot me into P5, behind Dev, Reid, one of the Specter Energy drivers, and Dev’s Mascort teammate Otto Kivinen. It’ll be a tough fight to move up tomorrow, but I’m ready.
I push the thought away as I guide the car to parc fermé. After hauling myself out, I make my way over to an awaitingFIA official to be weighed, slapping hands with Dev and congratulating him on yet another pole position as I go. Reid is out of reach before I can commend him as well.
I head toward the McMorris garage as they leave to do top-three interviews. Thankfully there’s no Finley waiting for me this time, just a swarm of mechanics and engineers and—
Stella.
My wife lingers at the back of the slowly thinning crowd, like she’s trying to stay carefully out of the way, but there’s no missing her. She stands out as if there’s a spotlight beaming down on her, and I blink a few times to make sure I’m not imagining things. But when she lifts a hand to wave at me, grinning widely, I know she’s more than just a dream.
My helmet, HANS device, and balaclava are off and gone before I realize what I’m doing. Apologies to the poor soul I likely shoved them at, but I’m too shocked to care much.
My feet automatically carry me over, stopping right before I run into her. The watchful eyes around us have me grabbing her hand and pressing it to my chest, just over my thudding heart. Though, really, I think I’ve done it because I want her to feel my genuine reaction to her presence.
“You’re here,” I say, rather unnecessarily, but they’re the only words I can form.
I’m just…I’m happy to see her. Happier than I thought I would be, especially with all the chaos we’ve brought into each other’s lives. I still haven’t spoken with my parents, allowing my assistant and my friends to act as my go-betweens, using the excuse that I need to focus on the end of the season. It’s a lie, and we all know it, but I’m not ready to face them. I figured I needed more time with Stella, for us to get to know each other, before I could confidently confront them.
And now she’s here.
Somehow, Stella’s grin brightens. Her nearly black irises reflect my own mooning smile. “I am.”
“I didn’t think you were coming.” I’m struck with a wave of guilt when I remember why she wasn’t planning to be here. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your family for the holiday?”
“I had more than enough time with them,” she casually dismisses, though there’s a tiny waver in her expression before she’s back to beaming. “And I’d rather be here watching you stick it on the third row.” With her free hand, she gives my shoulder a congratulatory punch. It’s not a very spousal move, but hopefully anyone watching will put it down to that just being her personality instead of questioning our relationship. “You had me on the edge of my seat. I almost thought you weren’t going to make it out of Q2. Kivinen should have gotten a penalty for impeding you like that.”
He should have, since I was forced to swerve around his slower car and missed the apex of the next corner. Thankfully, I recovered without too much drama or time lost. “Sheer luck I made it, honestly,” I answer.
But I’m hung up on the fact that she’s gone from knowing nothing about F1 to being this well versed in a mere two weeks. And not just that, but she’s done it during such a tumultuous time, when she definitely had more important things to focus on. God, it’s impressive, and she’s done it all for me. For us.
My breath catches when Stella leans in closer. “Don’t do that,” she whispers.
If there are any cameras around, I hope they’re snapping away, because I’m sure I look like a man fully obsessed with his wife. “Do what?”
“Write off your talent. That wasn’t luck. That was skill.”
I didn’t think I was writing anything off, but her reminder is refreshing. She’s right. I’ve worked hard for it to be this way.
