Chapter 18
Zaid
@LIGHTS_OUT_GOSSIP
No race this weekend means more time for gossip!
Zaid Yousef was spotted at Dulles Airport in Virginia today getting off a flight from London, likely on his way to visit his baby mama.
While we still can’t believe these two are having a baby, recent photos of them at the Canadian Grand Prix have made it clear that they are absolutely a couple.
If you swipe to the third photo of this post, you will see a disgustingly lovesick man who is apparently also a seven-time champion.
Can you two just hurry up and confirm you’re in a relationship? If Ava shows up in the paddock again in Spain this upcoming weekend, we’re going to take it as proof, m’kay?
COMMENTS
user9780593818169 specter’s slut needs go back where she came from leave zaid alone
mrsreidcoleman do u mean back to specter energy or wherever her kind of brown people are from becuz i agree on both
no1_axel_berg_fan what the fuck is wrong with you people
Northern Virginia
I add another trophy to my collection in Montreal.
My win, combined with Axel’s fourth-place finish, has expanded my lead in the championship to an encouraging thirty-two points. It’s a gap that could easily be lost if I’m not careful, or if a string of bad luck finds me, and there’s always a chance of that happening in this sport.
Adnan’s behind the wheel of the rental SUV with Sami next to him, driving me from the airport to Ava’s neighborhood outside Washington, DC, where there are green lawns, giant oak trees, and squat redbrick houses that are three times as wide as they are tall.
It’s so quintessentially American, down to the flags that hang outside of some of the homes, that I nearly chuckle.
This is the last place I’d expect a woman who spent the last ten years of her life in London to live.
When we finally pull into the driveway of a house with a smattering of wildflowers lining the pathway up to the front door, Ava wastes no time bursting outside, her long cotton dress swishing around her legs as she bounds over.
I expect her to come to me as I step out of the car, but it’s Adnan she greets first, thrusting a container full of little star- and heart-shaped cookies at him.
‘I made nokhodchi for you and Sami,’ she says, a little breathless, like the ten-foot sprint was a concerted effort. ‘Just a little way to say thank you for everything.’
Adnan takes the container, staring down at it for a moment before his eyes lift to her again.
There’s a change in him now, the shift from tolerating her presence to appreciating it.
He’s been hesitant about new people for the decade I’ve known him, which is essential for his job but less convenient when it comes to personal connections, and yet Ava’s made her way past the wall of defenses he has up.
‘Cheers,’ he murmurs while Sami demands he hand the cookies over immediately.
The pleased flush on Ava’s cheeks has me grabbing my bag and moving up beside her, wanting to see the color up close – and maybe be a buffer between her and Adnan.
There’s a green-eyed monster growling to life in my chest, and while I have no reason to be jealous of her attention on him, I’d rather have it on me.
‘Ring if you need anything,’ Adnan says, watching me put a hand to the small of Ava’s back. ‘Sami and I aren’t staying far.’
I nod to him and nudge Ava in the direction of her front door. ‘How are you feeling?’ I ask her.
She turns that smile up at me, head lolling slightly to the side in obvious relief. ‘I finally got that second trimester energy boost that everyone talks about. I’ve been using it to get caught up on work, to cook, and – oh shit.’
She bolts away with an apology that she left something on the stove, and I’m left to catch the glass storm door before it slams in my face.
Ava’s already ditched her sandals in a heap next to the entryway’s shoe rack when I enter, and while I can’t see where she’s disappeared to, I can hear her footsteps on the other side of the living room wall.
‘All good!’ she shouts. ‘Didn’t burn the rice!’
I smile as I take off my trainers and place them on the rack next to the crooked assortment of Ava’s colorful shoes. Straightening up, I pause to observe my surroundings, and even if I didn’t see Ava come running out of the place, I would have known it was her house with one glance.
The front door leads straight into the living room, where the walls are a soft taupe with a chocolate-brown sectional sofa pressed against one.
A dark wooden coffee table sits in front of it, her laptop resting in the center with one of her graphic design projects open, and far too many empty mismatched mugs surrounding it.
There are hand-stitched throw pillows galore, colorful art in golden frames on the walls, a variety of lamps with funky lampshades sitting on nearly every flat surface, and mismatched Persian rugs on the floor.
It’s kitschy. Earthy and warm. It’s perfectly her.
I’ve taken a few steps forward and am admiring the watercolor painting of a split-open pomegranate when Ava comes sliding back around the corner. The compliment I’m about to pay her decorating dies on my lips when I see something clutched in her arms.
‘What is that?’ I blurt instead.
I’m staring at a slightly cross-eyed Siamese cat that must be about two thousand years old. Logically, I know cats can’t live that long, but its face speaks of centuries of horrors witnessed.
‘This is Timmy,’ Ava announces brightly, holding up the cat Lion King style, body dangling in a way that shows off its soft cream-colored belly and unnatural length. ‘One of my cats.’
I freeze, eyes darting around the space. ‘How many cats do you have, Ava?’
‘Just three. The other two are around here somewhere.’
At the sound of her voice, one comes running into the room and moves straight to me, weaving in and out of my legs. It’s another old Siamese, eyes even more dramatically crossed than Timmy’s, and he’s loudly chattering away.
‘And that’s Robert,’ Ava introduces over the din. ‘He doesn’t mind if you call him Bob.’
I don’t know what to do other than stand here and let the creature rub its face on my leg as it continues to meow throatily like a pack-a-day smoker.
A flash of motion out of the corner of my eye has me turning to the sofa, where a regal Persian cat with a fluffy, pushed-in face and crooked whiskers sits glaring at me.
‘Who’s this?’ I ask, nodding toward the latest addition. ‘Richard? Jonathan? Charles?’
‘No.’ She laughs as if those would be the most outrageous names for a cat. ‘That’s Soup.’
‘My mistake.’ I continue my stare-down with Soup for a moment before looking back to Ava. ‘You didn’t tell me you had cats.’
She sighs softly as she bends to set down Timmy, who wobbles over to join his ancient brother beside my legs. ‘I didn’t want to come off as a crazy cat lady. Men have made fun of me for it before.’ She offers me a weak smile. ‘Let’s just say dating hasn’t gone particularly well.’
I’ve heard similar stories from people in the circles I run in, some of whom have given up completely on finding a partner because of the shit others have put them through.
It’s been five years since my last relatively serious relationship ended, and I can’t say I’ve been looking for anything committed since.
But I’ve had my reasons, the biggest being that racing has forever been my first and longest love.
No one could have replaced that. Now, though . . .
‘That’s why you decided to have a baby on your own?’ I ask before I can follow that dangerous rabbit down a hole. ‘You didn’t think you’d find someone?’
It’s hard to believe she might think that, because .
. . I mean, it’s her. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and the purest ray of sunshine.
Our week in Monaco was one of the happiest I’ve had in years.
How could anyone look at her and not want to do everything in their power to be with her?
To make her lips tip up in the warmest of smiles?
To keep her safe and show her she deserves to be taken care of?
Because I know I want to. Even if she weren’t carrying my child, I’d feel the same, and I have no doubts about it because the urge has been there long before she came to me with the news.
Only now have I been able to nurture it from a glowing coal into a full-fledged fire, growing bigger by the day, and it’s getting harder to keep it disguised.
Ava shrugs, looking away from me as she goes to sit with Soup on the sofa, pulling the ball of fluff into her lap. Despite his permanent scowl, he leans willingly against her chest, purring so loudly I can hear him across the room.
‘I had a couple of long-term relationships that I thought would lead to marriage and kids,’ Ava says, stroking the cat’s head.
‘I was with one guy for four years when I was working at Specter Energy HQ, before I was asked to be trackside all season. We broke up because he changed his mind about wanting children. Before that, there was a two-year relationship that ended because he was taking a job in a different city . . . and told me he didn’t want me coming with him. ’
Her original shock when I asked her to travel with me makes a little more sense now, considering the experiences she’s had with other men.
She’s not single from lack of trying, but it’s clear she wasn’t going to waste time finding a partner when she didn’t need one for her end goal of motherhood.
Again, I feel like an interloper, though the weight on my chest eases when she pats the cushion next to her for me to come sit.
‘But it’s all okay,’ she goes on, face lighting up with a smile as I move a few throw pillows so I can lower myself onto the sofa. ‘Everything led me here.’ She cups a hand over her belly, running it back and forth as she stares fondly down at the bump. ‘I got what I wanted.’