Chapter 20
Niki
It’s the day after I returned from Australia. I spent the entire twenty-hour flight berating myself for asking to drive in a practice session.
I’m not ready.
I nearly messaged Rosie to ask her thoughts, but she’s my assistant, not my counsellor or my wife.
I shake my head as I knock on Senna’s office door. “Hey, sis.”
“Don’t tell me you’re giving up the advisor role. I’m meeting with the board later, and it’s the only good news I have for them.”
“Are things that bad?”
She looks up from the papers covering her desk and attempts a smile. “No, they’re great, but I hate meeting with them. They moan about everything and always go back on their promises.”
I wince internally. “I’m excited about the advisor role, so you don’t need to worry.”
“Good. I was concerned you’d regret saying yes since you agreed because of Billy’s brother. You always used to think first and act later.”
I laugh awkwardly. “Like when Connor dared me to get a tattoo after the Mexican Grand Prix when we were shit-faced.”
She rolls her eyes. “Exactly. I’m so proud that you want to drive during practice. It shows you’re getting back to who you were.”
Her mouth creases in a hopeful smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. I can’t break her heart again. That’s all I’ve done since I returned. “About that.”
“Yeah?” She sucks her lips into her mouth.
“Can I do it at the Japanese Grand Prix rather than in ten days in China?”
“Oh?”
“It gives Tawny and Connor more time in the car. They’ve barely driven it.”
“Good point. That’s why you’re my advisor. You’re the best.”
No, I’m not. I’m messed up. But with the Japanese Grand Prix the week after China, I should have more time to chat with my counsellor and prepare mentally.
“I’ll leave you to get ready for the board.”
“Thanks. And Niki.”
I turn back.
“It’s nice to see you making these decisions. Thank you for being by my side.”
“Sure. Always.”
I rush to my office to hide.
Two days until I leave for China, and Japan is the weekend after. This kind of racing schedule used to feed my adrenaline needs, but I’m still exhausted after Australia, which was a week ago. I down another cup of coffee.
Rosie giggles as she returns to her desk after her lunch with Jimmy. That sound gives me the weirdest belly feeling. I nearly asked her to look it up last week to check I wasn’t getting ill from a stomach problem, but it’s not a medical issue.
It’s her.
The only relief from worrying about racing is Rosie’s starring role in my dreams. The dream always starts sweet, with both of us on my sofa watching television, but turns into her on my lap, and we revisit our kiss from when we met.
Neither of us has referred to that night again, apart from my slip when I called her Bella.
I must see them as two separate people: the Bella I kissed and Rosie, my assistant.
I need her, and she’s incredible at her job.
This is day eleven of her as my assistant, and I’m not sure I’d be in today if not for the chance to be around her.
To her, I’m a grumpy older guy who can’t let people close, and she’s a single mum and my employee.
I’ve nothing to offer her. I can’t care for myself, let alone Rosie and a child.
My run-in with Clara and Billy’s brother is a stark reminder I’m a shadow of my former self.
She knocks at my open doorway. She’s wearing a pair of plain trousers and a blouse.
I recognise it because she played with the frayed edge of the blouse’s cuff while on a video call with me after I landed last week.
She wore it twice recently, too. As she stands at my door, she scratches at the trousers.
“I’ve got an update about your staff.”
“Come in.”
She sits in front of me, her eyes dark with tiredness. “I’ve booked your nutritionist and trainer for tomorrow and your dog walker for Wednesday morning. I postponed them from last week as you were a little anxious after Australia.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“I’ve also booked for you to meet with the social media team so they can properly announce you as the reserve driver and advisor.”
“They could mention I’m driving in one of the practice sessions, too.”
She tilts her head.
“As a reserve driver, I can drive in one practice session, but I won’t drive in qualifying or the race. It’s a chance to be back in the car.” I make fists under the desk.
“Okay.”
I’ve avoided mentioning it for a week in case she’d see I’m not ready. I square my jaw. “It seemed like a good idea, but now I can’t take it back.”
“I’ll do everything to help. In the meantime, I spoke with Connor’s and Tawny’s assistants about what they need as drivers.
Regular physio would do wonders for your stress.
Maybe an osteopath, too, as you said your headaches weren’t unusual.
These therapies involve touch, so it’s something to work up to. ”
“You’re good.”
She shrugs, but her smile gives me relief from my anxiety.
“I can’t believe you’ve only been here two weeks, Rosie.”
“Just think what I’ll achieve in six months. We’ll conquer the world, and you’ll be driving professionally again.”
Hope fills my chest.
“In six months, you’ll be bored,” I tease. “You’ll insist on travelling with the team, although it’s not all champagne lunches and private jets.”
She fiddles with her blouse. Light glints off something around her neck, but she shifts her collar, quickly hiding it.
“I’d be happy with soda and something other than Peppa Pig.” She stifles a yawn. “Don’t worry, I won’t ever cost you by asking to attend races.”
“Not Silverstone? You’d see our cars in action without leaving the country.”
She shrugs but doesn’t make eye contact, staring at the cuff of her blouse. “Maybe Silverstone, but it’s difficult with Tabi.”
I don’t want to pry, but I don’t want to ignore her needs, either. “Is it okay to ask about her?”
She chews her lip, and I take a breath.
“Don’t worry. It’s none of my business. You’re the perfect assistant. Your home life is private, and that’s for the best.” Oh shit. That came out grumpily.
She cringes and scratches at her cuff.
I grip my desk. “Sorry for making you uncomfortable.”
She gives me those big Disney princess eyes, and my breath sticks in my throat.
“You didn’t. Have I done something weird?” she stutters.
My sister tells me I’m too confrontational at times. I used to be, but at least with a bit more humour and charm. These days I sound like an arsehole, yet I still say, “You keep picking at your clothes. I presumed it was something I’d said or done and...”
She drops her arms to her side, and her eyes pinch as she stares at me.
Shit. Shit. Shit. “Sorry. I crossed a line.”
She pauses in the doorway. “I’m just…It doesn’t matter.”
“Sorry, Rosie. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I wasn’t born with lots of money to get the perfect outfit. Senna said I wouldn’t have to wear smart clothes all the time, but I’m not sure she said the same to you, and I’m trying to make a good impression. Never mind. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”
She walks to the ladies’ bathroom before I can reassure her she doesn’t need to change anything for me.
I don’t know how to improve things. I lift my phone to call someone, anyone.
“Senna, I need your help.”