Chapter 27 - Callum
The drive back into Monte Carlo was a blur of taillights and tunnel echoes. I’d left the meeting in a rush, my mind unraveling faster with every turn. The glittering coastline was back in view, headlights weaving through the streets like veins.
I should’ve been thinking about Beckett. About the contracts I’d just agreed to review and what my future looked like if I said yes to the rebrand. If I retired at the end of this season.
But all I could think about was Aurélie.
It was still early when I left. Monaco was golden with evening light, the streets alive, the sky open. But I couldn’t shake the quiet weight in my chest, a tight pressure that made it hard to breathe.
Exhaling loudly, I tapped the screen in my car to call her. It went straight to voicemail. I frowned and tried again. This time, it rang and rang and rang until her voicemail picked up again.
Okay. So her phone was silenced. That was fine. She’d see I called soon and would return it.
I sent a text anyway, just in case she didn’t see I called. Or so she’d know I wanted to hear from her. Anything, really, to know she was okay and this was just my anxiety speaking rather than a sixth sense I swore I had when it came to her.
How is unpacking going? Need some help?
No response the rest of my drive home. My leg bounced the entire time I was stopped at lights.
I chewed the inside of my cheek raw, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.
I cracked my knuckles, flexed my hand over the gear shift repeatedly.
Anything to keep my hands busy and my brain from spiraling.
None of it worked.
I barely registered the climb up into the city center, the switchbacks winding down toward the harbor. My flat was perched above it all. I gripped the wheel tighter as I pulled into the garage, my phone vibrating on the console beside me. I snatched it up.
It was nothing from her. Just the usual onslaught of social media notifications.
I parked, knowing I should go straight upstairs. But I didn’t. I sat in the car and called her again. Except this time when I got her voicemail, I didn’t hang up. Her voice filled the car, all soft and melodic and perfect French that brought me to my goddamn knees. My heart lurched.
“Salut, c’est Aurélie. Je suis pas dispo maintenant, mais laisse un message et je te rappelle dès que possible. Bisous.”
Hi, it’s Aurélie. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as possible. Kisses.
The “bisous” wrecked me. Sweet and unthinking, a kiss through the phone line. Like she hadn’t gone MIA without warning.
I let the silence stretch for just a second, staring at the leather seat beside me—empty, except for the imprint of memory.
God, the first time she was in this car, it was the first day she set the paddock on fire about sexism. She’d seen her ex for the first time since leaving F2 and panicked. She needed to be out of the paddock. The boys and I had snuck her out.
I took her bungee jumping to shut off the noise. And we came back here because she didn’t want to be alone. We were exhausted, adrenaline-drunk, exhausted, laughing about her Frenglish and broken croissants.
I laughed until I couldn’t breathe. It was the first time that had happened in so many years I’d forgotten what real laughter felt like. She blushed, and the way she looked at me after made me realize I was falling head over heels for her.
Now she wouldn’t even pick up the phone.
I blinked back the burn in my eyes and swallowed.
Beep.
“Hey, baby… it’s me,” I said, voice thick.
“I just wanted to check in. I know you’re probably unpacking or busy or something, but…
I don’t know. I’ve just got this feeling, and I’d feel better if I heard your voice.
So… just call me when you can, d’accord?
S’il te pla?t, mon amour. Je t’aime, Aurélie. ”
Maybe the French would pull her back to me. Maybe hearing “mon amour” in my voice would remind her she’s not alone. I didn’t care if I sounded pathetic. I just needed her to know I was still here, still reaching.
Maybe she’d roll her eyes. But if she did… if she heard the way I said her name, the way I begged in her language, maybe it’d crack something open. God, I hoped it would.
Maybe I should’ve said more. Maybe I should’ve called sooner. Maybe she needed me and I was too wrapped up in my own shit to see it. She called on her drive down and—fuck. I just wanted to hear her voice. Even if she was mad and didn’t pick up.
Maybe I should’ve insisted I go with her after the way we left things.
I exhaled, fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Eventually, I forced myself to get out of the car.
The lift ride to the top floor felt like it took hours, even though it was less than thirty seconds. I couldn’t handle looking at my reflection in the polished doors, so I pulled out my phone again, and opened our group chat, PR Nightmares.
Kimi had sent a meme that morning. Ivy reacted with a laughing emoji. Marco sent a gif. It was normal, chaotic bullshit. But no reply from Aurélie.
I scrolled up, confirming she hadn’t said a single word since yesterday morning.
My stomach curled in on itself.
No, don’t spiral.
I've done enough of that recently. This was probably just a result of not enough rest and too much time thinking. Emotions had been high, and there was a good chance that I was smothering her.
I clicked into our messages, and sent another.
Everything alright, love?
The doors opened, and I stepped off the lift, not even hesitating before calling Kimi. He picked up on the third ring.
“What’s up, mate?”
“Hey. You heard from Auri today?”
“Uh… no. Not since yesterday, I think? She texted that she was officially leaving Paris. It was hilarious. She sent a picture of her flipping off the Luminis keychain she left behind. Why? Everything okay?”
I hesitated, propping the phone on my shoulder as I unlocked my front door. “Yeah. Probably. Just checking in.”
“Want me to call her?”
“No, it’s fine. She’s probably just catching up with her siblings. Thanks, mate.”
I shut the door behind me and went straight to the kitchen to drink some water. Maybe the coolness would help reset my nervous system.
News flash: that didn’t help. It just made me have to pee ten minutes later.
I changed out of my business wear into a pair of joggers and a black Vanguard shirt. Glanced at my phone again to see no new notifications. I was feeling desperate now, so I pulled the PR Nightmares chat up again.
Anyone heard from Auri?
Three replies came faster than I expected.
Marco
Nope. You lose track of your girlfriend, mate?
Ivy
No?? Hold on.
Kimi
This is the second time you’ve asked in the last half hour.
WHAT IS GOING ON.
YOU HAVE ME VERY WORRIED RN.
IF I HAVE TO DEAL WITH A RESERVE DRIVER FOR THE REST OF THE SEASON, I WILL STRANGLE THE BOTH OF YOU.
Ivy tagged her twice, but all we got was radio silence.
The worry started to chew at me.
Pacing didn’t help. Lifting weights didn’t help. Cooking dinner I didn’t eat didn’t help. I kept checking my phone and refreshing her socials. Nothing new except a generic PR repost that she most definitely did not post herself.
Ivy texted me privately. The concern worsened after I read it.
Ivy
I just tried to call her three times, but she’s not answering. She’s probably sleeping. She’s had a long few days, plus she’s on her period. She said hers are the worst.
Oh, shit. I hadn’t even thought about that. Aurélie had even taken the time to explain what having endometriosis felt like, especially with her periods.
Still. Something wasn’t sitting right.
I stared at my phone, debating what to do next. I knew the house she bought wasn’t too far from here. Less than an hour, if I recalled correctly. But she didn’t give me her address, and I’d joked about coming to find her—oh.
Was this a game? Was she purposefully not answering because I told her I’d find her anywhere? Christ. If this was what she was doing, her punishment was going to be brutal. After I kissed the hell out of her and made her promise to never fucking do this again.
Except that theory didn’t make sense. Why would she avoid talking to me entirely? And not respond to the rest of us? Especially me and Ivy.
Nope, something was definitely wrong.
At a certain point, the dread won out.
I responded to Ivy.
You’re probably right.
I’m going to check on her, but I need her new address and I know your nosy ass has it.
Also, what do women like when they’re on their periods?
Ivy
Are you groveling for something?
Actually, doesn’t matter. Pls tell me how she’s doing and tell her to answer her phone.
Also, usually candy, comfort foods, and anything warm and cozy. Candles too. Good luck!
The address came through next, and I pulled it up in my maps app. A little over fifty minutes from me, which wasn’t bad. And it was still early enough that I could stop and get some of those jellybeans she loved so much.
I threw together a duffel like it was some kind of sprint race.
Change of clothes. Phone chargers. Toiletries.
I glanced around my room and stilled. That fucking bunny heating pad was on the dresser, where I’d dropped it after she forgot it in Silverstone.
I stood there for a full beat, staring at it like it could explain anything.
Then I grabbed it, tucked it carefully into the bag, and zipped everything up.
I cleaned up my flat before I left. Straightened the throw on the couch, wiped down the counter, put my dishes in the dishwasher. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought it’d matter. That if I brought her back, I could say, “See? I was ready for you.”
Then I snatched my keys and left, because waiting another fucking second might kill me.
I stopped at the candy shop a few streets over. They carried the fancy jellybeans she claimed were better than American ones. I bought three packs. The cashier gave me a look I didn’t care to interpret.