We’ll be in Monaco for another week, then I’ll head for the States for the three-week break before the Circuit of the Americas Grand Prix in Austin.
I’m going to invite her to stay with me again. Her belongings are already at my house anyway. Logistically, it’ll be a breeze. More than that, I don’t want to be apart from her for even a single night if we can help it.
“I’ve got to go.” She glances at the waiting car.
I don’t drop my hold on her hips, and she doesn’t make any move to walk away.
We’re hovering on a precipice, neither of us eager to burst the blissful bubble we’ve created over the last several days.
Evangeline’s delicate throat bobs as she swallows. “Alaric… this last week…”
She trails off and averts her eyes, like the confession might be too much.
It’s not.
Nothing is ever too much for me when it comes to this woman.
I capture her chin, gently tipping her head up. “I know,” I assure her, acknowledging all the things she didn’t say. “I feel it, too.”
Eyelashes fluttering closed, she sucks in a deep breath, centering herself.
This is what we signed up for: public fronts and unwanted goodbyes. We know the roles we must play. After this past week, it’ll be harder than ever to pretend I’m not deeply and irrevocably devoted to her.
“At least we still have tonight,” she says, false hope lacing her tone.
We still have forever.
That’s what I want with her, but I don’t say it. Not now, when we’re trying to slip on the professional masks required to get through this day.
Instead, I kiss her forehead, take a measured step back, and fake an easy smile.
“I’ll see you back here tonight, angel.”
CHAPTER 48
EVANGELINE
Now that I’m here, backstage in one of the massive conference rooms, I’m so much more anxious than I expected to be. I shift my weight from hip to hip, a fidget in each hand, trying to calm my nerves.
“You okay?” Mia nudges me with her elbow as she sidles up to my left. Ren and Shelby are in the corner, talking quietly with their heads down. Flynn and Bea are hovering near the refreshments, and Kenji is late, per usual. I haven’t seen Luca, Alaric, or my sister yet.
“I’m fine.” I link my arm with hers and smile. “Just not used to doing things like this.” It’s one thing to go live in front of a screen. But to be on stage with an in-person audience hanging on my every word? That’s nerve-rattling.
She nods. “I still get anxious before stuff like this, even after dozens of hours in media training. It’s a mental battle every time I go up on that stage.” She sighs. “Especially before or after a race. Most of the media are jonesing for us to slip up and let our emotions show.”
I bet.
The PR admins work tirelessly to prepare their drivers and personnel to field media questions. Entire careers are dedicated to training and prepping them for interviews like this.
Some of the drivers have taken to answering in as few words as possible to avoid the inevitable fallout of misspeaking or saying too much. Then there are those who like to put their own spin on things. Saint and Kenji have both mastered the art of flirting their way through interviews without actually answering questions. Gwen isnotoriously candid, but in a no-nonsense way that makes new reporters afraid to even approach her. Then there are a handful of veterans who are so unserious the reporters don’t even expect them to answer anymore.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” My sister appears, dressed in her standard Kelly polo and trendy linen trousers. Her hair and makeup look beautiful, but she’s wearing her sunglasses inside, and the skin at her temples is pulled tight.
“Hey, you,” I greet quietly, pulling her into a gentle hug.
I resist the urge to ask how she’s feeling, though I can’t not check in on her. So I hold on to her shoulders and level her with what I hope is an empathetic gaze.
“Are you sure you have enough spoons for this?”
