"Like what? Moved in with a devastatingly handsome F1 driver?"
"Like made such a big decision without a backup plan." I meet his eyes. "I sold my house. If you'd said no, I'd be homeless on Christmas."
His face softens. "You knew I wouldn't say no."
"I hoped."
"What was your Plan B, though? Because you always have one."
I shrug, trying to look nonchalant. "Anna's guest room in Japan. Or bother Silas to book me a free hotel room until I found a new place."
He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine. "Violet Colton, Team Principal, CEO, and terrible liar."
"I'm an excellent liar when needed."
"Not with me." He kisses my forehead. "I see right through you."
"Is that so?"
"Mmhmm." His arms tighten around me, pulling me against the solid warmth of his chest. He places his lips by my ear. "This is the best gift I've ever been given," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. "You choosing to be here, with me."
I turn in his arms to face him, framing his face with my hands. His beard is soft under my palms, his eyes bright and open. There's something so vulnerable about him in this moment—this man who fights for every position on the track, who is a ruthless competitor but the best person you can have in your corner outside of it—looking at me like I've given him the stars.
"I've never lived with anyone before," I admit.
"Me neither." He grins. "We can figure it out together."
"I hog the blankets."
"I already know that from hotel rooms and your visits here. I've adapted."
"I work late."
"I'll bring you coffee."
"I'm bossy."
His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise. "You? The woman who runs an F1 team with military precision? Bossy? I'm shocked."
I smack his chest lightly. "Very funny."
"I'm serious about the coffee, though. I know how you like it, I can make it perfect every morning. Same with the tea." His expression shifts, becomes more earnest. "And about making space for you. Not just in the house, but in my life. I want you to feel like this is your home, too."
The sincerity in his voice wraps around me like a blanket. I still can’t believe I’m allowed this happiness, even after the shit year we all had, at least personally.
"It already feels like home," I say softly. "You do."
His smile is blinding. He scoops me up again, this time carrying me toward the couch. We collapse onto it laughing. He keeps one arm around me, using the other to gesture at the living room.
"We should finally take some photos together and hang them around the house to annoy everyone who visits us. And get you one of those fancy coffee machines you like. And maybe redo the guest bathroom—I know that showerhead is crap." He's talking rapidly again, enthusiasm pouring out. "Oh, and we need to clear space in the garage for your car. The Taycan deserves better than the driveway in winter. And install a charging station for it."
I watch him, fascinated by his excitement. William has always been open with his emotions—it's one of the things I love about him, how freely he expresses joy, anger, frustration. But this happiness is different. Deeper. Like he's been waiting for this without realizing it.
"You really want this," I say, more statement than question.
He pauses his planning to look at me. "More than anything. I want morning coffees and arguing over what to watch and seeing your shoes mixed with mine by the door." He takes my hand, kisses my palm. "I want all of it, Violet. The mundane stuff especially."
"Even when I'm in a bad mood because the board is being difficult?"
