She nods. “I did. He has to look out for the company. He fought me on it, of course, but once I pointed out that he was simultaneously destroying your career, it clicked.”
My career.
He mentioned my career on the balcony that afternoon, and he dismissed me when I told him I couldn’t care less about working in Formula 1 long term.
“I’m not overinflating the media’s influence. They’d destroy you. You dated the father and the son?” She shakes her head, grimacing. “You would never work in Formula 1 again.”
A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. I’m sure I look crazed, but I don’t have the energy to fight it. My cheeks burn, like the muscles that make the expression possible have atrophied over the last few days.
If what this woman is saying is even partially true, then there’s hope. Maybe more. There’s a legitimate chance that Alaric and I can be together.
It was never my dream to work in Formula 1. I’m already living my dream, working for myself. But A-Tizket A-Tasket isn’t my only dream anymore.
I want to be with Alaric.
And now that I have more context, now that I know that our separation wasn’t his idea?—
“Thanks for all that,” I tell Leslie, spinning on my heel with a renewed spring in my step, a plan blooming in my mind.
CHAPTER 55
ALARIC
We finished P2 and P5, as expected, locking in a combined twenty-eight points and boosting us to fourth in the Constructor’s Cup. This is the best finish Granata has had in over a decade.
Yet my spirits are still in the gutter. So much so that I’m sitting in my office, finishing up a report that doesn’t need to be done until next month. The distraction is necessary. If I’m not drowning in work, I’m pining after Evangeline. Just this morning, when I stepped out of my building, I spotted a flash of animal print, and on instinct, I took off like an apex predator, jogging half a block after a woman in a sundress. Thankfully, her dark red hair caught my attention before I properly embarrassed myself or terrified her.
My reaction was instant and visceral. It was also eye-opening.
I’ve stayed holed up in my office for most of the day. It’s a feat, really, considering it’s race day. I even made Quinn walk with me to and from the pit wall so I’d have a buffer on the off chance I ran into Evangeline.
Mick’s questions have played on repeat in my mind for the last twenty-four hours.
As the dull ache behind my eyes flares once more, I rub at my forehead, mentally and physically exhausted. I really need to sleep tonight. Once I’m rested, I’ll formulate a plan. I double-checked Evangeline’s hotel reservation, confirming she doesn’t check out for two more days. That gives me ample time to figure out how to navigate all this.
A soft knock sounds on my door, and on instinct, my spine snaps straight.
It’s nearly nine. I can’t imagine anyone else is here this late. That fact ignites a tiny spark of hope. Maybe it’s her. Would she really come here?
Holding my breath, I rise out of my chair and make my way to the door.
I open it slowly at first, then swing it open wide, surprise and confusion coalescing in my gut, and take a step back.
CHAPTER 56
EVANGELINE
Iswipe through the single security turnstile still in place as people hustle all around me to clean and pack up the paddock.
The night air is cool, making me wish I would have brought a jacket or at least worn pants. I’ve been sitting in my hotel room for the last few hours, rereading my letter and rehearsing what I want to say.
Embarrassingly, I resorted to an old masking trick and practiced my speech in front of the bathroom mirror. Multiple times.
Surprisingly, I’m not even nervous.
I’m just desperate to get it right.
When my phone buzzes in the pocket of my dress for what has to be the twentieth time, I fish it out and unlock it. As I pass the first motorhome on my right, I grin down at the notifications from the Even Better Eleven group chat.
