Page 15 of First in Line

“And?”

“This isn’t even three hundred thousand. It’s a huge downgrade for me.”

It takes everything not to roll my eyes.

“Are you even allowed to drive this? Isn’t it stated in your contract that you can’t drive a rival team’s car?”

“Well, Altron doesn’t make cars, so they cut me some slack. Plus, Lamborghini doesn’t have a team.”

“It’s the Volkswagen Group. They have an Audi team.” He gives me a side look, surprised that I’d know that. “What? I spent seven years with you. Of course I know such things.”

“Still, I’m impressed. As for the car, it was the only fun one they had available in Denver, and I’mnotdriving a Honda Civic. It would destroy my street cred.”

When the car starts, I’m thrown back in time. I haven’t been in anything that has more than four cylinders in forever. The last time was with him, actually. We used to go on these day trips together, driving into the horizon as if nothing mattered as long as we were together.

I’m silent for a moment after he pulls us onto the road, watching the familiar streets pass from this new, lower perspective. Giving him the papers was always going to bring back memories. I thought I’d be strong enough to keep them buried and not let regrets take over, but the more time I spend with him, the harder it gets.

“Can you sign the papers, please?” I ask out of the blue.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘Why?’”

“Why is it so important to you?”

“Because there is someone else I want to marry. And we haven’t been together for seven years. And we need to move on. And it’s the right thing to do. Do you want me to keep going?”

“No, I get the idea. I’ll sign them.”

“Thank you.”

“After I’ve met Nathan.”

“Why?!”

“I want to make sure he’s the right one for you.”

I chortle. “You have no right to ask that. Your opinion of my fiancé doesn’t matter, Jackson.”

“Then let me meet him, and I’ll sign the papers even if he’s a tool.”

“He’s not a tool.”

There’s a brief moment of pause before he asks. “What does he do for a living?”

“He’s an analyst for an insurance company.”

I can hear the smirk on Jax’s lips when he says, “That sounds thrilling. I love that for him.”

“He’s a good guy, okay? He treats me well. He’s always on time. And he has excellent jokes.”

The car does a swerve, slipping past our lane and suddenly returning to it. “Sorry, I fell asleep listening to that,” Jackson explains with a shit-eating expression on his smug face.

“You’re an a-hole.”

“A what?”

“Ana-hole.”