Now
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Evangeline
“For a first race, it’s amazing, Jax!” I enthusiastically tell him.
“Yeah, I guess. I really thought I’d finish second. I almost had him in the last corner.”
“Honestly, third place is incredible. It was your first time in a real Formula 3 race. I’m sure your team manager is thrilled with your placement.”
“I did better than my teammate,” he concedes. “Who was already there last season.”
“See?! It’s amazing!”
The disappointed scowl on his face slowly turns into a smile.
Ever since his departure for Belgium, we haven’t been able to talk every single day, as we’d hoped. But we’re still making the most of it, and whenever we can, we FaceTime like this.
I adjust myself on the couch, slipping my legs underneath me. “Do you think you’ll be able to come in May?” I wonder.
“I’m not sure. I’m putting as much money as I can aside, so I should have enough for a plane ticket. But they told me we might use the time between races to help improve my performance, depending on where I’m at by then.”
“Oh …So, if you’re not good enough, they’ll want to keep you?”
“The opposite. If I’m not good enough, I’m pretty sure they’ll just put me in the reserve and forget about me. But if I’m good, really good, they’ll probably want to push me even further, give me the tools to break records and dominate the season.”
“So, whether you’re good or bad, it comes with a downside.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Evie.”
“It’s okay. I hope you’re so good that they decide to keep you. And it’ll be right around my exams anyway, so I won’t have as much time as we’d like.”
“How are your courses going? Are you still nailing it?” he asks, using the topic change to lighten up the mood.
“I am! Do you want to see my new project?”
“Of course, princess.”
I jump off the couch and walk to the table where my almost-finished model sits.
I click to turn the camera to the other side and switch to the back camera.
“So, the assignment was to create a house for a family of four where you live outside as much as inside. That’s why there’s this large patio over there and the big openings on the second floor.
And there’s this huge space in the backyard, with a firepit and, right there, the best part: an infinity pool. ”
“It looks amazing. I love the shape of the front facade.”
“Thank you! My studio professor says I’m very good at mixing brutalist lines with organic shapes. I’ll start working on my final project soon. I already have a few ideas.”
“Have you chosen the topic?”
“Yeah. I’ll design a racing center. I feel like I know enough about the racing world, and it’s a very unique subject.
Also, they’re crazy about racing here in Indianapolis, and it’s about time we had a track worth hosting Formula One races.
I’ll create the stands, the paddock, the VIP sections … Everything from top to bottom.”
“That sounds exciting. Do you have some sketches already?”
“I do!”
“Would you show me?”
“Yep!”
This time, I rush to the entryway to take my sketchpad from the bag I left there. I flip through some pages until I arrive at the preliminary sketches I’ve been working on. I show them to Jax, explain the ideas, share my thoughts on what would work best …
“I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve picked one.”
“Please do. I can’t wait to see the final project.”
I grimace a little. “I’ll try to send you some 3D renders when I have them. It’ll take a while because my computer is getting old.”
“Is it going to be a problem?”
“Not really. I waste a lot of time, but I’m making it work.”
“Alright. Can you show me that model again? I really like it.”
We spend another twenty minutes on the phone until one of his teammates shouts that it’s dinnertime. We reluctantly hang up, and I return to sit on the couch, eyes on my model.
We’re almost there. We’ll have our dream house soon. And nothing will force us apart like this ever again.
Jackson’s car passes below us, soon followed by one from Mercedes, and a little farther, Red Bull Racing.
The windows rattle in their hinges with each one of them, the air vibrating from the sheer speed and power of those engines.
According to the stats displayed on one of the screens, he’s averaging a minute and seventeen seconds per lap, which is amazing.
Of course, he’s about to win again. This is one of Jackson’s favorite tracks.
He has been on the Monaco podium since the first time he raced here, seven years ago.
And he has won for five consecutive seasons.
Yesterday, during the qualifications, he even broke his own personal lap time record, which earned him pole position today.
I’m not quite sure when F1 drivers age out of this job, but Jax clearly isn’t anywhere near it.
I take a sip of my champagne, the fine bubbles tickling my tongue. A waitress with a tray of tiny pastries comes close to offer me one. After only a moment of hesitation, I take another single-bite raspberry pie.
The speed at which I’m getting used to all this luxury is alarming.
I haven’t mingled with anyone, staying in my lane the whole weekend because I’m pretty sure that with a single conversation, they’d be able to tell I don’t belong here.
I’ve still been enjoying the amenities and opulence, though.
Going back to Colorado, where there’s no champagne or unlimited French pastries, will be rough. But it’s a necessary evil.
Already, I can feel myself getting wrapped up in Jax’s aura.
We can’t be seen frolicking around together, so we’ve spent almost all of our time in his room.
Whenever he’s busy with his obligations, I go out for a stroll by myself, enjoying the beautiful scenery of Monaco.
I even spent a couple of hours at the beach yesterday, sunbathing and taking a dip in the Mediterranean Sea.
It’s still a little cold, but not enough to deter me and others from giving it a try.
As soon as Jax is available, though, I join him in his room and help him decompress the best I can.
Telling him I was leaving after this only pushed him to demand more of me and my body.
But I enjoy every minute, so I’m not complaining.
In fact, I welcome it. This is a one-time thing. Might as well make the best of it.
Somehow, it still doesn’t feel real. Being here with him, spending my days surrounded by beauty and luxury … It feels like a glitch, like a lie. Especially since earlier this week, I was unaware that any of this would happen, heading to work as if everything was normal.
Only this man could make my life derail this hard. And only he could make me not feel too bad about it.
The cars pass by again, and I could swear Jackson’s lead got even stronger. He really was born to race, wasn’t he? And no matter how small it was and how long ago it was, I helped him get here. It’s something.
In the corner of my eye, I see someone come up next to me. A man, also interested in what’s going on out there.
“Where do I know you from?” the stranger asks after a moment.
Startled, I turn around to find Wesley Pryce by my side, eyes on the track below.
“Excuse me?”
“I know you from somewhere, but I can’t remember.”
Crap. There’s no way he remembers me from that one time we met almost eleven years ago. “I was here yesterday and the day before,” I explain.
He looks at me this time, scanning me with attention. “No, I know you from before that. You were younger.”
“I just have one of those faces,” I invent.
I look outside again, waiting for Jackson’s next pass.
“Didn’t you throw a binder at me one time?”
Genuinely shocked that he would remember me after all this time, I look at him with wide eyes. My surprise seems to confirm his suspicions because he smacks his hands together with pride and says, “I knew it! I never forget a face.”
“Mr. Pryce, I—”
“Call me Wesley. We’re practically old friends, aren’t we? I’ll always consider you one for selling me on the best driver in the world.” As if on cue, Jackson’s car passes again.
“I take it you’re happy with your investment?” I ask.
“That would be an understatement.” He looks at the track for a moment, watching the cars desperately trying to catch up with Jax. “My company is my job,” he then explains. “But this … this is my passion, my hobby.”
“You’ve chosen what might be the most expensive pastime in the world.”
“And I will spend every dollar in my name if that’s what it takes to keep it going.”
“Thankfully, you won’t have to with a pilot like him on your team.”
“Indeed, I won’t.” He looks at me for a moment, still dazzled by my presence here. “You’re here for him, aren’t you?”
“Yes, he … he invited me. And only a fool would say no to a week in the French Riviera.”
“One of the most romantic places on Earth, isn’t it?”
“Oh, it’s not—we’re not—This is a trip between two old friends, nothing more.”
“Right … Well, allow me to introduce you to my wife. She might remember you from when I told her about our peculiar encounter.”
He doesn’t wait for my answer, turning around before walking away. After one last look at the track, I join him.
His wife is in her late sixties, like him, and while I look like I don’t belong, she’s the opposite. This is her territory, her people. She’s practically the blueprint with her Chanel dress, elegant gold jewelry, and perfectly blow-dried long bob.
When we reach her, Mr. Pryce rests a hand on her lower back, claiming her attention away from her friends with, “Darling, this is Evangeline Reyes.”
“Gillian. Evangeline Gillian,” I explain, extending my hand to shake hers.
“Not Reyes?” Mr. Pryce wonders.
“No, I changed it after I left.”
“I see.” Turning to his wife, he says, “Well, Miss Gillian here was once married to Jackson. She’s the one who threw the binder at me, remember? I told you about her.”
“Oh, right!” Jesus, even the way she laughs sounds rich. “I heard about you for days. I’m Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Eliza. Why have I never met you before?”
“I left all this before Jackson made it to Formula One.”