Chapter 12 #2
Chuckling, I grab the milk and set it on the counter.
“It’s been a long day. I’m off my game.” I grab a bowl and fill it with granola before adding milk.
Asking her out seemed to be the magic to building a friendship.
I wasn’t looking for one, but I’m not upset about this direction.
“Catch me tomorrow, though, and I’m all over it, babe. ”
Wednesday . . .
“Hello?” 11:19. I’ve been lying in bed waiting for her to call for the past hour. I was starting to believe she wouldn’t, so I’m glad she did.
“What do you do all day?” Marina Westcott is the nosiest person I’ve ever met. And I don’t mind one bit.
“Sim driving.”
“What’s sim driving?”
Propping my pillow up on the headboard, I sit up. “Simulated. The tracks, the—”
“You fake drive when you’re not actually driving? Why don’t you just go drive a real car instead?”
“There are too many rules in place. We can’t be on the tracks except for qualifying and the race. Otherwise, we’d have an advantage.”
“Interesting.” The sound of snoring hits me.
“Brutal.” The woman gives no reprieves. “Sorry for keeping you up,” I tease.
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding.” She laughs, then asks, “So your life is all about driving? Nothing else? For fun?”
“That is fun to me.” I take a sip of water. “What do you do all day?” The quizzer has rubbed off on me. I don’t mind answering all her questions, but she has me curious about her day-to-day.
“Ah.” She perks up instantly by her tone. “If I’m on set, it’s all day. I could be there for twelve hours or more. If I’m not required to be on set, it’s a free day, though I have to squeeze in rehearsals at some point to be prepared the next day.”
“So work? That’s it?”
“Sadly, yes. Not so sadly, I have an audition this week that I’m excited about.”
I love how joy takes over her tone. She’s complicated to figure out but not when she’s happy. She exudes it from two thousand miles away. “You like auditions?”
“No, it’s not the audition. It’s the potential of where it could lead. Excitement captures her breath. She releases it and says, “Musicals and plays are fun for me, so best of both worlds.”
I understand the feeling well and grin. “That’s how I feel when I get behind the wheel on race day. Like a kid doing what he loves again.” I get up as she starts munching on chips and head into the kitchen. “You’re going to cause me to gain weight and get disqualified.”
“Sorry, it’s dinnertime here.”
“You’re having chips for dinner?”
“Well,” she says, taking a sip of something. “We also had tacos, but that was at happy hour. It’s worn off now. What’s your favorite food?”
“I’ll show you next time I see you.” Wondering who she’s happy-houring with, I ask, “Who is we?”
“If we keep making all these plans, we’ll be too busy to enjoy them. Me and Poppy. I’d say you’d like her if you met her, but do you like anyone?” She punctuates her question with a lighthearted laugh.
I could fall into character and lie, but it’s starting to feel natural to let my guard down with her. “I like you.”
When the phone goes quiet for too long, like five seconds or something, I pick it up to make sure it didn’t drop the call. “Hello?”
“I’m here.” Everything about her tone has changed. Shit. Did I fuck up by telling her the truth?
“Why so serious?”
“Not serious. I just think that was a really sweet thing to say, Cash. Just when I get used to the grump who doesn’t say much, you surprise me.”
“Sometimes I surprise myself.” Like every time I share something I don’t typically tell anyone, but feel free to do so with Marina. “Remember that reputation I’m trying to up—”
“Yeah. Yeah. The whole bad boy thing.” Her laughter trickles through her words. “I’ve been starting to question it. What made you so bad that they decided that title fit the best?”
I start to wonder if she can be scared off at this point. Nothing has worked so far. “A few accidents. An arrest. Bad relationship. The list goes on.”
“I think it needs to be revisited. I just don’t see you as bad as you want to be.”
Chuckling, I say, “You could start a campaign.”
“On it.”
Thursday . . .
I hate Thursdays.
Four days with my son isn’t enough.
He’s had me serving him ice cream well after bedtime and jumping in puddles because who cares about expensive shoes when I can ruin them with Cullen. Watching him go-kart at an indoor track in Jersey was the highlight. He’s going to be better than I’ve ever been.
I wish he could see me race, at least once, in person. I can already hear Terpidy arguing that it’s too disruptive to his schedule. I could challenge that argument, but that won’t change the fact that I need to respect her as his mother.
“Hop up, buddy.” My mom takes his backpack while I lower down so Cullen can jump onto my back. As much as I love his curiosity, I don’t think I can have another thirty minute conversation about the cracks in the sidewalk.
We start walking again. “We’re booking it today,” she says, eyeing me with a reserved smile.
“I can slow down.”
“You don’t need to do me any favors. I can keep up with you kids.”
I chuckle, knowing she’s the original speed demon in the family. I drive cars. She wears through sneakers.
Cullen’s hand shoots out and points across the street. “Daddy. Candy!”
As luck would have it . . . It’s not the candy I see, though. It’s the woman shoving a piece of chocolate in her mouth. The same woman I go to bed thinking about every night. That’s when our eyes meet. Even from across the street, I can see that pretty face blush and a smile creasing her cheeks.
I cross the small two-way street and step onto the sidewalk with her. She’s more beautiful than I remember, even with a spot of chocolate coating the corner of her mouth. I say, “Same time.”
Her smile blooms for me. “Same place. A happy coincidence.”