CHAPTER 61
EVANGELINE
AUSTIN, TEXAS
Ican’t help but smile as wind whips through the cabin of Mia’s Porsche 911 GT3. I can’t believe this car is street legal. Or that my bestie has the discipline to drive it at a reasonable speed.
“Done,” I declare, hitting thepay nowbutton on my phone. With that single move, I’ve paid off my final credit card balance in full.
“Fuck yeah,” she exclaims, flooring it on a straight.
We’ve been all over Austin today, enjoying a rare day off in our hometown. I’ve been focused on my phone for the last several minutes, so I have no idea where we are now, but I trust that Mia knows where she’s going.
“That’s all of it, right? You’ve officially received all reparations from Luca Steele?”
I blow out a long breath, nodding. That was it.
Over the last two weeks, I’ve gotten notification after notification regarding my ex. First came a slew of apologies, most of which sounded like they were written by a fifth grader. Then the money started rolling in.
His first payment was thirty thousand dollars. I nearly passed out. After that, he sent smaller amounts randomly. As if every time he remembered something else I had paid for along the way, he’d log into his bank’s mobile app. Three hundred and forty dollars for private standup paddle board lessons in Mexico City. Eight hundred for bottle service at the Australian Open. Eighty for a Brazilian Feathers massage that I do not remember paying for and have proudly resisted researching.
It was the financial equivalent of love bombing, and it got a bit excessive.
Thankfully, there haven’t been any new deposits in a few days.
If I had to guess, I’d say he’s paid off his debt. And I can imagine he’s busy, gearing up to become a dad. The media is already reporting that if Luca’s son is born ahead of the race next weekend, Waytrek may call up their reserve driver.
As Mia takes a tight corner, I sigh, letting one hand hang out the open window.
I’ve been slowly coming to terms with the depth and longevity of Luca’s betrayal. His actions still hurt, and they probably always will. It’ll take a while to fully unpack everything that happened over the last few years. But at least I’m no longer saddled with debt.
My gut says Luca’s actions were driven by Alaric.
How he finally got through to him is a mystery, and honestly, I don’t allow myself to think about it—or him—much. My heart is still too tender. I thought I wanted closure from Luca. Now, all I want is to put everything that reminds me of Alaric in the past so I can start to heal.
He has technically respected my wishes, making no attempts to directly contact me, but he’s also made significant gestures of his own over the last few weeks.
The first one came in the form of a letter of acceptance into a women’s business accelerator program. According to the document, I was nominated by an anonymous source. The eight-week online program comes with a sizable grant upon completion.
The next two gestures came as paid speaking gigs through Formula 1 Academy. The female development program invited me to serve on a panel and present at a career fair here in Austin aimed at highlighting opportunities for women in motorsport. The two engagements paid out the equivalent of a month’s salary.
Between the extra gigs and Luca’s reimbursements, I’ve more than recovered financially. In fact, my bank balance is larger than it’s ever been. That little detail brings a level of comfort akin to what I’ve only ever experienced during my brief time with Alaric. It’s potent and deep; the kind of privilege that lends itself to better mental health days and all-around better quality of life.
I didn’t even worry about where I’d stay in Austin for the two weeks before I could check into the room provided by Granata. Mia and I rented a palatial Airbnb near her parents’ house, and we plan to cohost Sweatpants and Chill there after the next race.
The tree-lined road we’re winding down makes me miss Alaric.
Is he in Austin, or still in Monaco? When will I see him next? And how will it feel to be in his presence once all the dust has settled?
I miss him every day. Deeply.
And despite the distance and my commitment to maintaining my boundaries, a part of me worries that cutting all ties wasn’t really for the best.
I acted on instinct. My actions weren’t rash; I used everything I knew to make the best choice at the time. But I can’t stop replaying that night in my head. I set a clear boundary, and Alaric has respected it. Almost completely.
Yet I miss him so much. I desperately wish he would reach out and try again. I’m the one who erected every boundary keeping us apart. What the hell is wrong with me?
“I think we’re close,” Mia mutters, slowing and crouching lower to peer out the windshield.
