Chapter 12 #2
“And then what?” I asked. “Juggle work, school, and a move all at once? What happens when my schedule clashes? Or when I can’t get enough hours to cover rent?”
“You find a way,” Cleo said firmly.
I let out a slow breath, gripping my glass a little too tight. “I appreciate it, really. But this is temporary. I can deal with it for a few months, get my tuition paid, get my doctorate, and finally be done with him.”
Imani’s jaw clenched. “Until the next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
Cleo shot me a knowing look. “You keep saying that.”
I pressed my lips together, my heart hammering harder than it should.
Imani sighed, rubbing her temples. “Fine. Be stubborn. But you know we’re right.”
Cleo huffed but reached for her drink. “You’re exhausting, Carter.”
Imani’s gaze softened. “We just don’t want him taking any more pieces of you.”
There weren’t many pieces left to take.
“Why are you so calm about this?” Imani stared at me. “You’re living with a man whose entire personality is just controlled arrogance and raw talent. You’re taking care of his child. And the entire world doesn’t even know she exists.”
Cleo scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, I feel like that part should have gotten more discussion time. Because, babe, how is that even happening?”
I rubbed my temples. “Because he’s rich. And famous. And a man. The trifecta of ‘I’ll do what I want and no one will question it.’”
Imani’s brows arched. “And you’re not worried? Not even a little bit?”
Of course I was. Every time I let my mind drift to what would happen when the season ended, when I had to walk away from Hazel, I felt it. That deep, stomach-hollowing dread.
But I couldn’t let them see that.
I shook my head. “No. Because I know exactly what this is. It’s a short-term situation, and then it’s done.”
Cleo gave me a flat look. “Right. Because people always rationally handle unexpected emotional bonds.”
Imani hummed. “And you have never had a habit of repressing things until they explode.”
I pointed at them both. “I don’t like the tone of this intervention.”
“No intervention.” Cleo raised both hands. “Just two concerned best friends watching you make a highly questionable life choice.”
Imani tilted her head. “Do you at least like him?”
I blinked. “Who?”
She gave me a look. “The father of the baby you’re currently raising.”
I scoffed. “Absolutely not.”
Imani rested her chin in her hand, watching me like I was a particularly reckless lab experiment. “We’re not trying to be difficult.”
“We just want to make sure you’re okay in all of this.” Cleo twirled her straw between her fingers.
I scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re living with a man who has the emotional availability of a brick wall, raising his child, and pretending none of it is a big deal.” Imani lifted a brow.
Cleo pointed at her. “And historically, you don’t handle emotional upheaval in a chill way.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That is a deeply unfair assessment.”
“Is it?” Imani leaned back, crossing her arms. “Because I have very clear memories of you refusing to admit you liked that guy in second-year until you were literally engaged in a full-blown situationship.”
“That was a rough time.” Cleo winced.
I made an impatient noise, shoving my glass away. “This is a job. Nothing more.”
They exchanged a look.
Cleo took a slow sip of her drink. “Then why is it a secret?”
“Because Julian said so.”
“Wait.” Cleo’s expression sobered. “No one knows?”
I shook my head. “And you can’t tell anyone.”
Imani sucked in a breath.
“I mean it.” I met both their gazes, steady and unflinching. “Not a word.”
Cleo leaned back, arms crossed. “Of course we won’t. But, babe, you get that this is insane, right?”
I didn’t answer. Because I couldn’t deny it, and acknowledging it wouldn’t change anything.
“I don’t care about Michaels,” Imani said, studying me with concern. “I don’t care about your dad. I care about you.”
Cleo nodded. “We’re worried. You do this thing where you convince yourself you’re in control of a situation right up until it smacks you in the face.”
I scoffed. “That’s dramatic.”
“Are you going to be okay walking away when this ends?” Imani asked.
My stomach clenched. “Yes.”
“And if it’s not that simple?” Cleo’s brows rose.
I forced a tight smile. “Then I make it that simple.”
“Right.” Imani didn’t believe me. Not for a second.
Cleo tilted her head. “And if, hypothetically, you catch feelings?”
“I don’t catch feelings.” I shot her a flat look. “The only thing I might be catching is a plane to Singapore.”
Cleo nearly spit her drink. “Wait. You’re going to a race?
“Possibly.” I shifted Hazel’s blanket.
Imani set her coffee down. “You haven’t been to a race since you were eighteen.”
“I know.”
“Since you humiliated Julian in front of half the paddock and made sure he’d never drag you back,” Cleo added.
“He doesn’t want me there now, either.” I chuckled.
When I was younger, he’d drag me around the world for the races and insist I attend sponsor events. At eighteen, I’d had enough, and he legally had no excuses left for keeping me out of conventional schooling. But Julian being Julian, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I went to Monaco.
And I got blackout drunk in the paddock. Threw up on a rival team principal’s shoes. Screamed at photographers. Security had to escort me out while cameras captured every second. The footage made international news.
Julian’s pristine reputation took a massive hit.
He sent me to a behavioral wellness retreat in Switzerland for the entire summer. No phone, no internet, just etiquette lessons and silence. But he never asked me to attend another race, so it was more than worth it.
“Then why go?” Imani asked.
“Griffin asked.”
They both stared at me.
Cleo’s brows arched. “That’s it? Griffin asked so you’re considering going back to the place you swore you’d never return to?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Then uncomplicate it,” Imani said.
I sighed. “He’s trying to be a good dad. He hates leaving her every other week. It’s…” I grimaced. “It found a soft spot, I guess.”
Cleo tilted her head, considering me. “And that’s enough to make you go back?”
“Maybe. And maybe because it’s a win-win. My father doesn’t want the baby anywhere near the races. If I show up with her, I’m doing exactly what he hates. Bonus points.”
“You hate the races too.” Imani crossed her arms.
“I hate the paddock. But Griffin doesn’t need me there. He just wants us in the city so he can see Hazel after his job is done. I don’t have to go near the track.”
Cleo set her drink down. “So you’d just stay at the hotel?”
“Or actually see Singapore for once. I’ve been to half these cities and never left the paddock. Might be nice to see what I’ve been missing.”
Imani drummed her fingers on the table. “That’s a lot of rationalization for something you claim you don’t want to do.”
“Maybe it is.” Hell I knew better than anyone how many times I’d sworn Taylor Swift would have to be attending a race before I went back to any paddock. “But at least this time I have a choice.”
Cleo nodded. “So what are you packing for Singapore?”
I blinked. “Clothes?”
“Cute clothes?” She waggled her eyebrows. “For when Griffin sees you after the race?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Something that says ‘I’m just the nanny but also I look incredible’?” Imani asked.
“Stop.”
“We could come shopping with you,” Cleo offered. “Help you pick something that screams ‘emotionally unavailable but devastatingly attractive.’”
I groaned. “I hate you both.”
Cleo beamed. “You love us.”
Imani reached over, squeezing my wrist gently. “We’ve got you. Even when this gets messy.”
A lump formed in my throat. I swallowed it down, squeezing her fingers back.
Cleo nudged my shin under the table. “We should order dessert. I feel like you need it.”
I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. “Fine.”
Imani raised a brow. “What, no argument?”
I shrugged. “Might as well enjoy the meal before my life inevitably implodes.”
Cleo smirked, flagging down the waitress. “Now that’s the spirit.”