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I think that will be full-time if my clothing line keeps me as busy as I think it will.

I still have to iron out a plan with Grandfather, like what he wants my involvement to be, if I can work out of London and Monaco, that I still want to travel with the team—all of those things—but with the way that shirt blew up on social media? On multiple platforms?

I’m pretty sure Paloma will have a new job soon.

Sarah stands next to me, typing on her phone. She was very subdued at dinner the other night, and I can’t tell if she’s irritated at Mason for reprimanding her for using us for content or upset that she didn’t know how Mason felt about it.

As I watch her fingers fly across her phone keyboard, I can’t help but think people are such incredibly complicated beings. I think of Mason’s relationship with his mum and dad and my relationship with my own mum. But then I also think of my relationship with my dad. Grandfather. Caleb. Isla.

And Mason is super close to Ruby. Luke Larson. His trainer, Jacques.

So perhaps this is the human experience. A mixture of great relationships and difficult ones.

Or toxic, in the case of Mason’s dad.

But one thing I do know. My relationship with Mason is grounded. Authentic. Real. The feelings I have for him are new and wonderful. I want to support him. Help him. Make him feel seen and heard.

I want to give him all the things he’s given me.

I smile as I watch him follow Xavier around the streets of Baku. That’s my man driving that car. My incredibly talented boyfriend. And more than anything, I want him to snatch this race away from Xavier today.

The cars approach the grid. Mason slides into the spot next to Xavier. The excitement builds in me as Caleb’s car pulls up to P5. It seems like forever before all the cars make it onto the grid, and then Luke veers off into the pits, as he will be starting from Pit Lane due to some work they did on his car last night.

The medical car pulls up behind the last cars on the grid. Then a marshal walks behind the cars, waving the green start flag to signal all cars are in position.

It’s time to go racing in Baku.

Everyone in the garage stares at the monitor showing the starting lights on the gantry.

One red light illuminates.

The second comes on, followed by the third.

I hold my breath as the fourth and fifth lights illuminate.

There’s a pause.

And then they all turn black.

Xavier bolts, and I expect Mason to do the same.

But he doesn’t.

Archer Ashwell of Sterling-Roth, a surprise P3 on the grid, roars past him, followed by Caleb.

My heart stops as Mason’s car practically crawls forward. Cars from the middle of the grid are now passing him. He’s tumbling back, back, back on the grid.

Oh my God, what is wrong with his car?

My hands fly to my mouth as I hear him swearing over the radio. The mechanics in the garage start yelling, and dread washes over my stomach.

“What is happening?” Mason shouts at Zach.

“Anti-stall.”

Damn it! Mason has now fallen all the way to the back of the grid, with the last Eclipse car passing him. There’s no way he can even make the top ten for points.

“Why the hell did that happen?” Mason asks again. I can hear the anger reverberating in his voice.