Instinctively, I drift to the room on the left.
I open the door, confirming my hunch. Humming, I bring my hand to my chest. It smells like him. An invisible string pulls me forward.
This bedroom is homier than the one in Monaco. The décor is darker, its moody vibe well-suited for the storm outside. In addition to the king-size bed, there’s an enormous chair near the windows I envision him sitting in while he reads on the nights he can’t sleep.
Every surface is clear, the extra blankets and fresh towels folded on a trunk. There’s neatness and order everywhere I look. When I peek into the en suite, my heart catches in my throat.
On the counter, between the sinks, sits a slender vase holding a single red rose.
This man.
I stagger back, in a daze, until the backs of my legs hit the bed and I plop onto the mattress.
For several moments, I don’t move, Alaric’s invisible presence wrapping me in a bittersweet hug.
God, I miss him so much.
I hate that he didn’t choose me.
But as I sit alone in his bedroom, surrounded by his belongings and his scent, with only my own stubbornness and heartache for company, I can’t help but replay the last few weeks in my mind.
The incident the night of the Monaco Grand Prix was messy and arduous. The way everything went down was honestly the worst-case scenario for everyone involved. Mia and I have talked about it ad nauseum, trying to unpack how awful and also uncontrollable the situation was. I had the run-in with Leslie in the elevator, and Alaric was grappling with Luca’s unexpected news. He and I were both flustered, exhausted, and stressed to the max.
We each reacted on instinct—his gut telling him he should support Luca, like any good dad would. Mine urging me to retreat in order to protect my heart. To flee before he had a chance to figure out why I showed up at his office in the first place.
And then, when he did come after me, I doubled down.
I sent him away. Told him we could never be. Declared that I deserve more, which he wholeheartedly agreed with. He respected my choice and kept his distance, though he’s continued to show up and hold space for me like no one ever has.
If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.
I thought I had to hold back to protect my heart. But this distance is unbearable, and despite my insistence that we’re through, he’s all I want. I know deep down that the only thing standing in the way of us being together is me.
Unable to keep him at arm’s length for another second, I spring to my feet.
I want him back.
I never wanted him gone in the first place, but I needed time and space to fully unpack our whirlwind relationship and ensure I had the strength and self-respect to stand up for myself.
My heart rate accelerates as I jog down the stairs and grab a Granata zip-up from the coat rack. I have no plan, but I can’t fathom slowing down for even a second now that I’m in motion.
I pull out my phone as I stride for the back door. I guess I’ll need to call a ride share after all.
Where am I even going? He mentioned a hotel close to the paddock. It would be logical for him to stay where the rest of the team is lodging. I’m scanning my inbox, searching for anything in the latest correspondence about the Circuit of the Americas, when a pounding sounds from the back door.
Heart lurching, I pull up short. Then, hands trembling, I pull up the app to the security system and select the camera designated for that area.
When his image appears on screen, I take off.
I run through the kitchen and slide to a stop. I fumble a little as I disarm the security system, and when I yank the door open, it ricochets off the wall.
Alaric’s eyes are wide, his hair and shirt soaking wet.
Without hesitation, I pounce, wrapping my arms around him.
He stumbles back several paces, then we’re falling. He hits the ground and I land on his chest, causing him to let out ahumph.
“Oh my god. Are you okay?” I cry, looking him over.
