Chapter 19 #2
We climb out of his car, and he joins me at the curb, tucking my hand into his.
It’s a sweet gesture, and I turn to smile at him, but the flash of a camera—and then another and another—surprises me.
The press is lined up outside the restaurant, snapping pictures of us walking into the restaurant hand in hand like lovers.
Since this is an out-of-the-way spot, I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that someone called them, and the only one who could have, who would have, is Bobby.
He gives his winning smile for the cameras as he leads me into the restaurant, and I’m disappointed to notice that when he gives his name to the young hostess, she leads us to a table that has a view of the ocean but also sits by one of the windows at the front of the building, where the paparazzi can easily snap pictures of us on our date. How romantic.
I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t because I was raised to behave myself in public. When your parents are famous it’s basic protocol not to embarrass them on a night out. Sure, I could have tons of times, but I don’t. Even if I’ll never measure up, I still try my best.
He pulls my chair out for me, and I notice he takes the seat with the better view but also manages to position us so we’re on display for the press to see. I bite back a frustrated sigh. This is not off to a good start.
The Marine Room has always been one of my favorite restaurants.
I love coming here, and it’s always a special treat, so I’m going to make the best of the night.
Their seared ahi is by far my favorite dish, so when the server comes up to the table, I know exactly what I want.
I open my mouth to order, when Bobby beats me to it and orders the salmon… for me.
“Actually, I’d prefer the ahi,” I correct.
“You have to stay in shape,” he says, and I wonder if he’s been abducted by aliens.
I’m thin. I have always been thin, mainly because of great genetics, but also because I train like a beast and maintain a healthy diet.
Never once have I had an issue with overindulgence or weight, so I can’t imagine why he would tell me I need to watch my diet.
Even if I wasn’t naturally thin, curves are never a bad thing.
“The ahi is hardly a four-course meal,” I reply. “And besides, I ran four miles before I dressed this evening.”
Bobby gives me an approving look and hands our menus to the server, who looks happy to race away from our awkward confrontation.
“I’m not the bad guy here, Addie,” he says when we’re alone again. “You know how it is. They expect us to look a certain way.”
“And have I ever given
any indication that might be a struggle for me?” I ask.
“No,” he replies, looking chagrined. “But still, you know how they can be.”
“I do, but I’m fine. I promise.”
The server returns and opens a bottle of wine that probably costs too much money for what it tastes like, but it’s what Bobby wanted. I just take a sip, confident now that we’ve made it over some hurdle and we’ll be fine. But then he speaks again.
“You have to admit,” he says. “This is a perfect solution.”
I choke on the tart wine because I have no idea what he’s talking about but the pit yawning wide in my stomach has ideas about where he wants to lead this conversation.
“Pardon.”
“This,” he says, waving his hand between us as our salad course is placed on the table. “You and me.”
“Ah,” I reply. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’m also not sure I want to ask.
“Now that we’re together,” he continues, “we can tell your dad there is no need for competition anymore.”
I’m so glad I was right about him. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders to not have to compete against my childhood friend for control of my family legacy.
Together, we can run the company, side by side.
I didn’t realize that was a dream of mine and yet, now that I’ve thought about it, I want to realize that dream of taking over with my husband as my partner.
And if my husband just happens to be the best friend I have no sexual feelings for, so be it.
We can still be happy, still have a great life.
“Yes.” I smile brightly at him.
I hated competing against him, it made me feel awful. I have no idea why my dad would push for that. Why he would pit us against each other. But now I get it. It was so we could find our way to each other. I feel so relieved.
“I’m so glad you agree, Adrienne.”
“Of course,” I reply. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He smiles sheepishly. “I have to admit, I wasn’t so sure you’d give up DHR without a fight.”
“Why would I give it up?”
He shoots me a look like he’s talking to a child.
“Well, I’ll run the company, obviously,” he says.
It feels like a bucket of ice water has been poured over my head. Who does this man think he is? Where did my best friend go? Why is it that every man I care for in one way or another wants to strip me of something I hold precious: my love, my friendship, my legacy? It’s all too much.
“And what will I be doing?” I ask quietly. I don’t want to know—really, I don’t—but it’s like watching a train derail. I can’t help but look.
“Planning a wedding eventually,” he replies with a shrug like he couldn’t care less. “Having babies. I don’t know.”
“Planning a wedding?” I repeat slowly. “Having babies?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And you don’t think I should continue to work for DHR?” I ask cautiously.
“No.” He laughs like I’ve said something funny. “Why would you?”
“Because I’ve been racing my entire life,” I reply.
“Well, there’s no need to anymore,” he says. “Besides, we can’t both be the top racer.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t have you beat me,” he answers like it’s the obvious response.
“Why not?” I ask with wide eyes, dropping my fork onto my plate with a clatter.
“Smile, Adrienne,” he says through gritted teeth in a sham of a smile.
The camera flashes from the corner of my eye.
Crap, I had forgotten they were still here, and they seem to be eating this date up with a spoon.
So, I smile sweetly at him and pick up my fork again.
I push the lettuce around my plate and even fork up bites to my mouth even though I’m no longer hungry.
He clearly wants me to put on a good show for the press, and that’s fine with me.
“Why not?” I repeat my earlier question, this time with a fake smile plastered on my face.
“Because it would look bad if my girlfriend beat me on the track,” he says like I’m an idiot.
I barely keep from rolling my eyes.
“I didn’t realize your ego was so fragile,” I mutter under my breath, but he appears to have heard it.
“It’s all about image, Addie. You know that better than anyone else.” His tone is gentle and placating. At least he knows he’s irritated me.
He’s not wrong, though. Racing is a male dominated sport, which is why I’ve had to work ten times as hard to be taken seriously by anyone and I still have to flash my tits in magazines, unlike the boys.
Why can’t Bobby or my dad just be proud of me?
Why don’t they think I can do this? It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
“Look,” I say, trying to return his olive branch.
“This is one date. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.
I think we should continue to compete, and we’ll see where things go after the season.
” Which, hopefully, is nowhere, because I’m not sure I like the idea of throwing away the career that I’ve worked so hard for on a whim, but I don’t need to announce that to him over fish.
“You can’t be serious,” he prompts.
“Why not?”
“There is no sense in you racing this season if you’re only going to retire with your dad at the end of it,” he bites out.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” I explain. “I have no intention of retiring any time soon.”
“I don’t understand why you’re being so ridiculous,” Bobby snaps.
Have I been abducted by aliens and transported to an alternate universe? This is not my lifelong best friend I’m speaking to.
“And I think it’s ridiculous to believe I would give up my successful career—one I’ve worked for my entire life—and my family legacy just to get married,” I say sweetly. “Racing is my entire world.”
Bobby just laughs. “Babe, you just posed naked for a gentlemen’s magazine.
You’re the farthest thing from a respected driver.
No one would think twice if you ended up on my arm, because you’re beautiful, and that kind of woman is expected to be a trophy wife,” he explains, and I feel like my head might explode.
“But you’re not going to get DHR. That is mine, and it always has been.
Your dad won’t give it to you, because you wouldn’t know what to do with it.
But he can’t just not give it to you, because he’s handed you everything you’ve ever wanted your entire life, so he set up this little ruse. You get me, and I get DHR.”
“All in one neat little package,” I murmur softly.
“Ribbons and all,” he adds with a satisfied smile.
“We’ll see,” I say quietly as I tap my finger against the side of my wine glass.
“Adrienne—”
“This has been a lovely evening. Very illuminating, but I have an early call at the track tomorrow.”
“Addie—”
“I’d like to go now.”
He sighs and waves to the server to bring our check.
Bobby pays the bill, then takes my hand and leads me back through the paparazzi to the valet, where his pretentious car is waiting for us.
We don’t speak the whole way back to my house, but then again, I think we’ve both spoken plenty for the night.
He pulls through the gate and to the front of the house, then looks at me and sighs. “Don’t do something you’ll regret, Adrienne.”