Ash takes my hand, tethering me to the solid presence of her. ‘We’re going to breathe deeply. Ready?’
I try to copy her but I can’t get past the top of my lungs. My head feels impossibly light.
I’m blindsided when something smacks my cheek. Not hard, but enough for my skin to pulse.
Minnie reels back, looking terrified, on the verge of tears. ‘Snap out of it, Jules. We don’t know anything. It could be nothing. You have to pull yourself together or the cameras will catch it.’
She’s right. If I walk out early crying and tense, it’ll only add fuel to the fire. I have to pull myself back.
‘Focus on your breathing,’ Ash implores.
‘We are going to sit in the air-conditioned Paddock Club,’ Minnie instructs, ‘watch the Grand Prix in a corner by ourselves, and slip out straight after. And we’re going to get you a navy ribbon for your cowboy hat.’
Jesus, I forgot I was wearing that stupid cowboy hat.
‘No one can suspect a thing,’ Minnie goes on. ‘You are a loving girlfriend and a high-level content creator. It’s just another day.’
Just another day. Yes.
I force my lungs to fill. I imagine there’s a balloon inside me and I’m pumping it full of air, just like my therapist used to say.
‘You’re Jules fucking Butler,’ says Ash with a grin.
I take my bag from her with shaking hands. ‘Damn right I am.’
Chapter 40
JULES
With many spicy margaritas and all the dulce de leche snacks we could find in the airport, the three of us sit in a private corner of the American Airlines lounge, waiting for the vlog. We’ve sent a very peppy congratulations text to Tom for winning the Grand Prix (who hasn’t replied), and I’ve ignored four calls from Tiago. I’m sure they’ve both heard about Logan’s livestream, but I can’t face them before I know the extent of the damage.
Social media’s going wild. Clips are circling of where I sat far apart from Logan; where I dodged his kisses; where I smiled blandly as he blabbered on. Complicated timelines appear fully formed in hours. It’s like they were waiting for this to happen.
Two drinks deep, the holding screen changes and Logan’s face flashes up. Fucking hell, this is it. He looks like he’s in a hotel room. It’s tasteful and well-lit, and definitely not his palatial mansion in California – the wall behind him is missing portraits of bears and lions wearing crowns. I sit on my hands to stop them from shaking.
‘He could’ve shaved for the occasion,’ Ash mutters.
Logan launches with,‘I wasn’t going to say anything, but I think people deserve the truth.’
Ash and Minnie groan theatrically.
‘Knob,’ Ash says, adjusting her American Airlines notepad and branded pen.
‘How noble of him,’ Minnie chimes in, turning the volume down to make sure only we can hear it.
‘I’m not here to settle scores. I’ve moved on. I’m happy. But when you care about sport – and honesty – you can’t just sit idly by while a brother is misled.’
Minnie pretends to yawn.
Ash starts writing, mumbling, ‘Motive disclaimer.’
‘He called qualifying “rehearsal” this time last year,’ I chip in, feeling no less like I’m standing on a precipice.
Ash beams. ‘That’s the spirit, Julesy.’
‘When I met Jules, in February of last year, the 49ers had just won the Super Bowl, and I’d scored the winning touchdown.’
‘What a perfect opportunity to toot your own horn,’ Minnie says.
