Chapter 13 #2
I might have been hoping they’d ask me to keep on trucking, and I would have happily complied.
Now I’m inside and following a familiar path past high-top tables, refrigerated cases housing the team’s namesake energy drink, and employees dressed in navy and neon yellow.
My feet guide me to the back hallways where the offices are located, fully on autopilot.
I don’t stop until I’m outside a closed door, the plaque on it declaring OMID FARAHANI – SPECTER ENERGY RACING, TEAM PRINCIPAL.
I stare for a moment, heart rate kicking up until it’s at full charge. God, I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if—
The door swings open and I stumble back a step. Then I’m face to face with Axel.
‘Ava?’ he says in disbelief, thankfully shutting the door behind him and shielding me from view of the man sitting behind the desk. ‘What are you doing here?’
Shit, shit, shit. I hoped he’d be off doing interviews or filming something ridiculous for the social media team, but here he is, the last person I want to face right now.
I try to speak but nothing comes out, leaving me to awkwardly clear my throat and look anywhere but at him. He has a strange way of convincing me to spill my guts, and if I make direct eye contact, there’s no way I won’t confess everything on the spot.
‘I’m here to talk to Dad.’ The words come out as barely more than a squeak. ‘Is he free?’
Axel steps closer, brow furrowed and eyes pinched in suspicion. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ I brush off. ‘I just – I need to talk to him first.’
‘Ava.’ My name is a warning.
I grab his elbow and squeeze, hoping he can’t hear the way my heart is about to beat out of my chest. ‘I’ll tell you later, I swear. Let me chat with Omid before he gets wrapped up in another meeting.’
Axel isn’t remotely pacified, but his mouth settles into a resigned frown. ‘Are you all right at least?’ he asks quietly.
I soften some at his grudging concern. ‘I am. And I have good news to share. It’s just . . . complicated.’
His eyes narrow once again. ‘How complicated?’
Oh, how about I’m-pregnant-by-your-biggest-rival levels of complicated? ‘Like I said, we can talk later.’ I let go of his elbow and step around him. ‘Good luck this weekend.’
I don’t hesitate, pushing into my father’s office in an attempt to get away from Axel.
Now that we’ve had a run-in, I’m far less intimidated by the idea of telling my dad, because telling Axel is going to be so much worse.
There’s not much physical damage Dad can do to Zaid while sitting on the pit wall.
But Axel? If he doesn’t like the idea of Zaid knocking me up, there’s a hell of a lot more chaos he can cause directly on the grid.
‘Hi, Dad,’ I greet when my father looks up in surprise. ‘Can we talk?’
——
‘How did it go?’
Zaid sits in an armchair by the wide window in my hotel room, staring at me expectantly. If he can tell I’ve been crying for the past hour, either he isn’t letting on or I’ve gotten very good at covering up moments of crushing disappointment.
‘On a scale of one to ten, where one is my dad hugged me and said he was excited to be a grandfather,’ I begin, slowly pacing the room because if I stop moving I’ll be forced to reckon with my emotions, ‘and ten is him disowning me on the spot and threatening to have you taken out behind the barn and shot . . . I’d say a solid seven point five. ’
Zaid looks rightfully concerned about the situation, or maybe he’s just worried about my choice of visuals. ‘I know that’s not the reaction you were hoping for.’
It’s not, but it was close to the reaction I was unfortunately expecting. It was just . . . worse.
It started with Dad asking why I didn’t tell him I was coming to Italy, which led to me confessing that I knew he’d convince me not to visit. When he didn’t deny it and guiltily glanced down at the papers on his desk, I figured there was no point beating around the bush.
‘I’m pregnant,’ I confessed.
To which he astutely replied, ‘But you’re not married.’
Of course that was what he was focused on, not the fact that I was a perfectly acceptable age to become a parent or that I was financially and emotionally prepared for it.
It just mattered that there was no husband by my side.
When I went on to tell him I’d been actually trying for a baby since last year, his face scrunched in dismayed disbelief.
‘You’re doing this by yourself?’ he asked, nearly scoffing at the idea.
‘It was my original plan,’ I told him, and that brought me to the moment of truth. ‘But that’s not how it ended up working out.’
I stop pacing and rub at my collarbone, staring over Zaid’s shoulder instead of directly at him. ‘When I told him you were the baby’s father and wanted to be involved, he shook his head and said he didn’t want this for me.’
It’s the truth, but it’s not the whole story. Before disappointment came anger, the How could you be so stupid? kind. The You knew better kind with a pinch of I can’t believe you’d do this. A heavy dose of Did you even think of our reputation? Most of all, it was Why did it have to be him?
Truthfully, I understood his disappointment.
Considering my own childhood being shuttled from circuit to circuit, raised by a mom and dad who were as present as they could be under the circumstances, I wouldn’t want that for my kid either.
And Dad knows good and well that it’s hard to be a parent when you’re spending most of the year away from home.
It’s likely going to be that way with Zaid for as long as he’s still racing.
Zaid’s black Mascort T-shirt stretches tight against his chest as he leans back in the chair, sighing heavily and lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair.
I notice the way his left eye narrows a little as his wrist moves and I’m curious if he’s in any pain, but I’m too distracted by the line of his flexing bicep and the way his hair falls messily across his forehead to ask.
I guess it’s a good thing we have an endless list of challenges in front of us, because they’re a much-needed distraction from the raging tide of hormones trying to talk me into throwing our agreement to stay platonic to the wind and repeating the night that got us into this situation in the first place.
‘Anyway, that’s what happened.’ I try to smile to show him that I’m okay, but it wobbles.
Zaid doesn’t say anything to that, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on me. Then he’s rising, crossing the room in three long strides, and opening his arms to me in invitation. I go without a second thought, leaning into him and burying my face in his chest because fuck, I needed this.
The contact, the comfort . . . it’s not something I experience all that often.
Other than Edith, I don’t really have anyone else to hold me through the trying moments.
I haven’t had a partner in over four years, I lost nearly all of my Specter Energy friends, and the idea of seeking solace in a parent disappeared after Mom died.
Just having someone to literally lean on feels like both a luxury and a necessity, and the fact that Zaid knew what I needed without asking has me falling further down the rabbit hole.
‘You deserve better,’ he murmurs against my hair, and I have to tamp down the sob that tries to bubble up. ‘But I’m proud of you for being so brave.’
Brave. I certainly don’t feel it at the moment, so weak that I have to wrap my arms around his waist to stay upright. He’s solid and warm, and the steady beat of his heart under my ear does more to console me than it should. He believes what he’s saying, so why shouldn’t I?
Zaid rubs small, soothing circles on my back. ‘Don’t let him steal your sunshine.’
That’s what I need to focus on – the joy of not only carrying the baby I’ve wanted for so long but also being back in the world of F1.
Yes, there are plenty of negatives I could dwell on, and some of them deserve to be given attention.
But right now, I should be saying get bent to anyone trying to drag me down, and cherish this time to the best of my ability.
I nod, his shirt soft against my cheek, and take a moment to breathe.
I inhale his scent and let it calm me, let the comfort of his presence pull me back into the light.
It’s nice having help instead of having to do it all by myself.
And it feels like the ultimate privilege to have this kind of access to him, all because he’s determined to be here for me.
We’re only on the first day of trialing traveling together, but if it’s bound to be like this .
. . maybe it won’t be as hard as I feared.
‘Thank you,’ I tell him, and I try hard to ignore how the planes of his abs feel under my fingertips as I slowly let him go. ‘Well, now that our families know, I guess the next step is to tell the world.’
Zaid seems hesitant to let me go completely, his hand catching mine before I can get far. ‘When do you want to announce the news?’ he asks, guiding me over to sit on the edge of the bed.
I almost forget to breathe when he pulls our clasped hands onto his thigh, letting them rest there as he watches me, waiting for my answer, like this is completely normal behavior between us.
And maybe it could be, but right now, despite how much I’m fighting the urge to press myself against him again, we have bigger things to figure out than this charged energy between us.
‘If we don’t want to keep sneaking around just to talk to each other, we should do it soon,’ I point out.
‘What about after the race on Sunday?’ he suggests. ‘People will already be talking about you wearing my number—’
‘Careful,’ I warn, but I’m fighting a smile.
Zaid smirks and ignores me, continuing on. ‘That way we can have it all out in the open in time for you to join me in Monaco and be with the team. You could stay with me at my flat.’