Page 123 of Out of Control

“No, but I didn’t want anyone to ever doubt how much you are a part of this with me. How much you’ve done. And I screwed up with el patriarca. I made you feel unwelcome, unwanted, and I hated that. It pushed me into the limelight. It felt empty. Wrong. And so this is my way of showing you and the world . . . and the tabloids, how important you are to me. How much you mean to me. That you are a part of my world.”

I struggle to speak, the feeling of belonging overwhelming when, for so long, I feel like I never have hits me hard. But rather than say something, I lean forward and take her lips in a slow, grateful kiss that shows her how I feel instead.

When I lean back and look at her, I know the tears in her eyes are from happiness, and it fills me with an immense pride to know I put them there.

“Did you notice?”

“What?”

“I finally gave it a name.”

“Oh. Jesus. Yes. You’re right. I was a little overwhelmed by everything else.” I look at the paper again.

Simply-Just Gallery.

“Sofia,” I whisper.

“You get it?”

“I get it.”

Simply Sofia. Just Ollie.

Simply-Just.

Chills chase over my skin despite the sun. I blink away tears. She took something that was ours and made it that much more. I can’t smile any wider.

“It’s only fitting since you stole my flyer idea,” I say, needing a break from all this emotion.

“Even footing, huh?”

“Even footing.” She grins.

“Oooh, I hope there’s hell to pay for it.” She holds her hands out in front of me like she’s waiting to be handcuffed. “Please, Ollie. Make me pay,” she whispers.

And when I launch myself at her, when I slant my lips over hers and deepen the kiss, I know I’m complete.

I didn’t need her to make me, but she showed me who the real me was. She taught me to own it.

And with this stunt, she showed me she loves the man I am. The man I became with her help. And the one I will keep striving to be.

Because she deserves nothing less.

EPILOGUE

Sofia

The music is a constant throb. The dusty fields. The cool night air. The heat emanating off people. The excitement humming through the crowd.

We’re brought back to last year. Same place. Different time.

But it feels so right, so real to be back here with Ollie in the space that brought us together—if not tumultuously for a bit—before we realized the fight was worth it. To be the one dancing with him this time around instead of teasing. To be the one snuggling up with him after a night of endless music instead of wondering if he’s still thinking of me.

Our trip here is a bit different in some ways. We can’t go anywhere without security and the VIP section at the front of the stage has become our new best friend.

“So much for getting lost in the crowd, huh?” were Ollie’s first comments when we tried to blend in around the back but were noticed immediately.

It has its perks. F1’s newfound popularity in America and its followers’ ravenous appetites for all things to do with the sport, including the drivers’ wives and girlfriends.