It’s race day. My fever finally went away two days ago, and, although I still feel like shit, I’m starting to get better. Leonard has been forcing water and food down my throat, along with my antibiotics. He’s gone to work and come straight back to me for the past couple of days. He’s been helping me into the shower—looking away every time I undress—and making sure I don’t faint on him again. He’s also been taking me to the roof of the hotel every night so I can admire the Singaporean skyline. We have a clear view of the Marina Bay Sands from up there, and it is the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen. Shaped like a boat on top of three pillars, I’ve never seen anything even remotely like it. I wish I could be at the track too, but it’s already a miracle Leonard hasn’t gotten sick because he’s… been sleeping in my bed to make sure I’m okay. Sometimes I wake up with his hand on my chest like he’s making sure my heart is still beating. Sometimes I wake up and find his eyes on me like he was studying the way I sleep. Sometimes he wakes me gently by tracing the apple of my cheek like I am the most precious thing in the world to him.
And I haven’t minded it one single bit.
You can make my life as hard as you would like, sweetheart, because you’re the one who makes it worth living.
He hasn’t spoken to me about this sentence since he said it three days ago, but I haven’t asked either. He can’t have meant it. It’s not possible. Not to mention, I keep getting dizzy at the sweet way he addresses me. Spending all this time together can’t have caused him to have feelings for me. We always fight, except lately it’s mostly rooted in our sexual frustration, at least it is for me. I want him. I’m not ashamed to admit it.
I shake my head to ignore the thought before it sends me spiraling, which I have no time for. The race is about to start, and I still have to take Benz for a quick pee. My body has regained some of its usual energy, a good sign I will be healthy enough to travel on Wednesday. As nice as Singapore is, it’s also very expensive, and if Leonard goes out to buy me one more book here— all I’ve been doing since getting sick is read and sleep, so I went through the book I brought days ago—I will do something stupid like be nice to him for no apparent reason.
The ringing of my phone tears me back into reality, and I grab it out of my pocket to see an unknown caller ID. I furrow my brows and hit answer.
“Hello?” I say, Benz wagging at me once she’s done peeing. We make our way back to the elevator when the person on the phone responds.
“Chiara?Come stai?” Dino’s voice fills my ear, and I raise both of my eyebrows. I haven’t seen him since I ran out of the art gallery five days ago. Embarrassment heats up my cheeks.
“Bene, grazie. E tu?” The urge to tell him how sorry I am for how things went down between us is strong, but I have a feeling there’s something he wants from me, so I wait for him to keep talking.
“I’m good as well. Listen, I’m sorry about that kiss, especially because I was very impressed with your goals and vision for your art gallery. I would like to invest if you agree to do a trial run and impress me with an art exhibit you create for the gallery I own in Italy. I understand Leonard and you will travel there in a little over a week for his next race,” Dino says, and my already fuzzy brain crashes with the impossibility of his words.
“I’m a bit sick, so I’m going to need you to repeat that. I have a hard time processing information at the moment,” I admit while sinking onto my bed again and trying to control the shaking of my hands. Dino chuckles into the phone.
“I will send you the details later if you would like,” he offers, and I cover my mouth to keep from letting out a victorious sound that would most likely deafen him.
“I would like that very much. Thank you, Dino,” I say, and we hang up moments later.
As soon as the call has ended, I grab my laptop and place it on my lap to finish working on my project. The app I use for my video projection mapping is still open, ready for me to tackle this new task. I love taking care of Benz and traveling the world with Leonard. I’ve been earning a lot of money, have gotten to see the most beautiful places, eaten the most delicious meals—mostly cooked by Leonard—and witnessed the most incredible immersive art shows in the world. From artists creating their own exhibitions with physical objects to video projecting like I’m doing, I’ve picked up a lot of inspiration over the past few months.
It all spills into my work. I hardly notice the race in the background as I work, smiling at my screen because it’s turning out better than I could have ever hoped for. I take a break halfway through the race to call Mamma, who freaks out with me over the phone. She’s happy I’ve gotten this opportunity and even more so because it’s coming from a fellowitaliano. I shake my head at her swooning over Dino—yes, she looked him up and is staring at pictures of him as we’re speaking—wishing I would be able to do so with her, but I haven’t been able to admire any other man apart from Leonard in a long time.
“How’s Nonna?” I ask in Italian, my eyes focusing on the race now.
Leonard is in second place, fighting Jonathan for first. He started on pole, which is why I kind of wish I’d paid more attention. Instead of knowing why he’s behind his rival, I can only get frustrated at the screen. At least he’s merely a second behind Jonathan, which means he is in the DRS—drag reduction system—time requirement that gives the driver behind a speed advantage in the dedicated zones.
“She’s happy I’m here with her, and, to be honest, so am I. My heart feels strong, and I haven’t felt this happy in a long time,” Mamma says, pulling me back into the moment. I stare at my hand.
“I’m glad to hear that, Mamma. I can’t wait to see you both next week,” I say, and she lets out a small sigh.
“Nonna will be so happy. She keeps talking about how much she misses you.”
It’s only been a year since we’ve last seen each other, but, for a family as close as mine, that’s a long time. When I was growing up in Italy until I was four, Nonna and I were inseparable. When Mamma and I moved away, it broke both of our hearts. I cried for three days and then I didn’t cry again up until a few months ago.
“Me, too. Give her a kiss from me, okay?” Mamma assures me she will before we exchange ‘I love you’s and hang up.
My heart aches a little as I bring my attention back to the television in time to see Leonard attempt an overtake on Jonathan. I hold my breath and clap my hands together when he overtakes his teammate. Benz jumps up on the bed to lick my cheek, and I laugh a little, holding her face in my hands to get her to stop. I only take my eyes off the television for a second, but when I turn back, I see Leonard’s car flipping over and over again before landing on its head. Panic grips every cell in my body.
“No,” I whisper, standing up to close the distance between me and the screen. I don’t know why I do it, but it feels like I’ve started hallucinating from exhaustion and my flu symptoms. But no. Leonard’s car is upside down, and so is my stomach now. “Oh God,” I blurt out before rushing over to my purse and running out of the room. I don’t wait to see what happens. I can’t.
I have to get to Leonard.
* * *
I arriveat the track fifteen minutes later, my phone pressed to my ear as Quinn gives me updates on Leonard’s condition. He’s out of the car, awake but shaken up and bruised. She’s telling me they have to take him to the hospital to do some tests, so I ignore the burning in my lungs from the exhaustion of running while I’m sick, trying to get to him before they bring him to the hospital. I need to see him, need to make sure for myself he’s okay to ease the tightness in my chest. I’m freaking out. My heart is fucking pounding, and I can’t get it to stop. I have to see him.
“Where is he now?” I ask Quinn, who gives me directions. The pass around my neck allows me to go everywhere, Leonard made sure of it.
“You have to hurry if you want to drive in the ambulance with him.” I go faster than my feet should be able to in my condition, sweat dripping down my back, forehead, and neck.
I push through crowds of people. I run all the way to the medical tent where he’s supposed to be, ignoring the voices telling me to slow down. I ignore every aching muscle in my body groaning from the exhaustion of running after days in bed and still recovering from being sick. There is no doubt in my mind I’m making my sickness worse this way, but I don’t give a shit, not when I see Leonard sitting in an ambulance.
