Chapter 14
Zaid
I’m surrounded by infants.
He’s Dev’s replacement at the team, and it hasn’t passed my notice that they once again chose a driver from a marginalized background – Black this time, ticking off another box on their diversity checklist. From what I’ve heard Dev mention about his time at Argonaut, they love their tokenism, and neither of us trusts them to foster Theo’s potential.
I’ve tuned out the rookies’ conversation, chiming in when they have a specific question for me but mostly keeping to myself and waving to the crowd as the flatbed lorry takes us around the track for the drivers’ parade.
While this isn’t the worst part of race day and I’m grateful to the fans who are here, I can think of a thousand other things I’d rather be doing – the number-one option being back in Ava’s hotel room, with her wrapped in my arms. It’s the place where I’ve felt most alive and my mind most at ease.
I didn’t get a chance to see her this morning before leaving for the circuit, and the lack of contact has me itching to do something stupid just to see her face.
I’ve even held back and only texted her once today, asking if she was donning my number as promised.
I hoped to get a photo of her wearing it in reply, but all she sent back was a string of winking emojis and a handful of multicolored hearts.
I could go find her after the parade is over, just for a few minutes, but she was adamant we keep our distance until we put out our official statement – and until she could tell Axel.
Judging from the way he hasn’t stopped staring daggers at me since I climbed on board, I take it that he knows now, and he’s not a fan.
I understand she had to tell him sooner rather than later, but we’ll see how that plays out for the race today.
Considering I’m starting on pole, with him beside me in P2, we’re going to have quite the time in a few hours.
My only hope is that Dev starting P3 will force him to be on the defensive instead of attacking me.
My teammate’s just wrapped up being interviewed by the TV production team up here with us, flashing the camera and crew a wink before slipping through the crowd of drivers to reach me and the infants.
He greets Theo with a grin and a slap on the back before telling the kid it’s his turn to head over to the interviewer.
‘Wild how the rookies flock to you like a mother hen,’ Dev says as Theo wanders off, taking up the newly vacated space against the railing.
‘You were the same way,’ I remind him as the other two dip their heads in embarrassment and turn to talk to the rest of our peers. ‘Could barely go five steps without finding you grinning at me.’
Dev smiles fondly at the memory, and despite my grumbling about it now, I’ve never minded being the rookie wrangler.
Tiresome as it can be, I wish I’d had someone on the grid to ease my transition into Formula 1.
I was essentially thrown into the deep end, either ignored by the established drivers or outright loathed.
My teammate my rookie year at Deschamp should have been someone I could view as a role model.
Instead, he tried multiple times to ruin my life and get me kicked off the team.
My revenge was finishing one point behind him in the championship, a clear threat that I was destined to be better than he could dream of.
I made good on that the next season, and he’s since faded into obscurity.
So if I can be the person the rookies confide in and come to for advice, then I’ll gladly take up the mantle. They deserve to be welcomed, not shunned, and I can’t wait to see them break my records one day.
‘I definitely stalked you, but no one was as bad as Thomas,’ Dev says, louder this time so that Thomas can hear us over the wind. ‘I thought he was going to ask you to adopt him.’
His back is turned, but Thomas still gives us both a stiff middle finger – though it’s followed by him quickly flashing an apologetic, tight-lipped smile at me over his shoulder. I nod to show him there are no hard feelings, but Dev’s already homed in on the one person who does have hard feelings.
He elbows me lightly in the ribs before jerking his chin in Axel’s direction, letting me catch another glimpse of Axel’s discontent.
‘What’s that about?’
I shake my head, not about to get into it. ‘It’s nothing.’
But Dev’s not easily put off the scent. ‘Doesn’t look like nothing. This about Miami?’
‘No,’ I admit, figuring I can give him that much at least. ‘This is . . . personal.’
Dev immediately cants closer to me, eyes alight. ‘Oh, do tell,’ he says in a mockery of a posh English accent.
I should give him a heads-up about the attention that’s about to be on me and the team, but charming as he is, he’s a loudmouth. There’s a chance the whole paddock could know before Ava and I put the news out.
‘I’ll tell you after the race,’ I reluctantly promise.
And I will – as long as Axel doesn’t murder me first.
——
There won’t be homicide charges levied against Axel today.
I’ve won, which is nothing short of a miracle after the shit he put me through on-track, and the energy of the cooldown room before the podium ceremony is some of the worst I’ve experienced.
Poor Dev is caught in the middle of it all, sitting in the seat typically reserved for P1 just to keep some distance between Axel and me, cracking jokes that get forced laughs for the sake of the cameras as we watch the race highlights on the screen in front of us.
When we’re out on the podium, the champagne Axel sprays directly in my face is the pettiest form of retaliation, but I let it happen, closing my eyes against the burn as it drips down my cheeks and drenches my race suit.
At the end of the assault, I wipe away the liquid and open my eyes to find him directly in front of me.
He won’t try anything too stupid with the whole world watching, but he still claps a hand around the back of my neck and drags me closer until I can’t mistake his warning.
‘Be good to her,’ he murmurs. ‘If you’re not, I’ll make your life hell on and off the track.’ He then pats me hard on the cheek, and I can see his sharp grin from the corner of my eye. ‘Congratulations. I can’t wait to be an uncle.’
——
Later, after interviews, the race debrief, and a meeting with a very pleased Basil, I’m finally boarding my plane home to Monaco. My whole body’s heavy as I drag myself up the steps, and my wrists ache worse than they have after any other race.
Ava and Sami are already here, sitting together on the sofa and getting on well, if the sight in front of me is any indication. Sami’s head is thrown back as he cackles at something she’s said, and Ava’s smiling so brightly that I can only stand and stare in awe.
I wish I knew how she does it – how her smile wavers but never quite disappears, even when our entire futures are up in the air.
It’s a resilience that I thought I had, but this is different.
Every day, she makes the choice to stay in the light, to turn her face up to the sun and bask in it. To be the sun when times are gray.
She’s stunning and sparkling and just . . . perfect.
‘Are you going to greet her or just leer like a creep?’ Adnan murmurs from behind me.
I clear my throat and blink, stepping to the side to let him by. He saunters past me, though not before shooting me a knowing sidelong glance. Fucking hell, am I really that obvious? Am I not allowed to stare in wonder at the mother of my child?
Yeah, yeah, tone it down, creep.
‘Hey,’ I call out as I slowly approach the sofa. ‘Did you two run into any trouble making it here?’
I asked Sami to gather up Ava and bring her to the plane just after the race ended, hoping to avoid people finding out she was coming to Monaco with me. Our press release is approved and ready, waiting on my go-ahead to be published by my PR team. After that, nothing will be the same.
Ava turns her smile on me, and I swear it changes. It doesn’t dim, only warms, becomes something just between us, like an inside joke I’m lucky to be a part of. My heart does a funny twist at the sight of it.
‘No trouble,’ she answers before glancing back to Sami. ‘We even had time for a gelato pit stop on the way here. It’s been my one craving.’
‘She insisted we bring you some back, even though she knows your trainer will kill you if you gain another kilo.’ Sami winks at her to show there are no hard feelings. ‘Pretty sure she’s trying to sabotage you so Specter Energy wins next weekend.’
Even if it is an act of sabotage, at least she thought about me. I can’t ask for more than that.
‘Hey, I’m fully on the Mascort train,’ she protests, still bright and upbeat, but I can sense an undercurrent of sadness, probably because of her father’s less-than-ecstatic reaction and Axel’s murder attempts.
‘Bet you’re glad you don’t have to wear Specter’s hideous neon yellow any more,’ Sami teases, tugging at the sleeve of her black blouse. ‘You’ve already gotten the black-and-silver memo.’
I take a moment to look her over, noting the black top, dark jeans, and silver bracelets on her wrists. I like the way she can wear the dull shades without looking glum. She’s just as vivid in grayscale as she is in full color, though Ava in pink will always be my favorite.
She even has on a few silver necklaces to tie it all together, one of which boasts a dainty silver charm that rests in the hollow of her throat.
It’s subtle, nothing I would have really taken notice of without prompting – but then I realize it’s not just any little charm she’s wearing. It’s my racing number.