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Epilogue — Liam
Two Years Later
I always thought F1 was it for me, the idea of being with someone an impossibility. But I ended up finding love in the very place that was supposed to be my everything.
Sophie single-handedly turned me into an emotional fucker over the years. Ever since she came to spend her summer with Bandini years ago, she scratched away at my rough exterior until nothing was left to protect me from her. Her list captured my attention, but her essence stole everything else. Sophie accepted my secrets. She saw past the man on the stage, not taking my fake display of happiness as anything more than a show.
Sophie upgraded her laminated list to Post-its scattered around the house, the colors switching between neon shades depending on the task or mood. It’s a game we’ve played together for years. Pink Post-its have sexy stuff, blue are happy notes, green includes need to-do or buy items, and yellow has sweet messages she finds on Pinterest.
We still keep our famous list hidden away, only marking off items when we complete them. I didn’t pick easy-to-knock-off items for a reason. It looks like Sophie’s stuck with me forever because she can’t resist a good list.
Every time we plan for something, it usually goes wrong before going absolutely right. The day I planned on proposing, I left the ring at home, unable to pop the question on the Monaco cliff where Sophie stepped out of her comfort zone and took a chance on my crazy idea of testing her control. Since home was hundreds of miles away, I couldn’t hop in a car and grab it.
I changed the idea at the last minute and proposed smack dab in the middle of our bed. Note to the poor schmucks out there: popping the question in bed is wildly underrated because the sex after that type of commitment will blow anyone’s mind.
It stormed on our wedding day, but Sophie insisted we get married outside anyway. We danced in the rain like some old-school movie under the string lights of our backyard. It was one of the most memorable nights of my life, dancing around with my wife, her glitter Vans hidden beneath her wedding gown.
Despite our romantic night under the rainy sky, Sophie got sick after. So, we rescheduled our honeymoon, which was another plan gone amuck in the best way. The doting husband in me tended to her before I caught whatever she had, with her dressing up like a nurse. I can safely say I got the better end of the deal.
I love living in perfect disharmony with her because the best things happen when we’re busy focusing on everything else.
Switching to Vitus opened up a whole new F1 journey for me, my career growing as I help a team rise from the “best of the rest” to a top contender with Bandini and McCoy.
McCoy’s betrayal was a blessing in disguise. It granted me the ability to move on in so many ways, including becoming a better brother, uncle, and lover.
Sophie typically spends the entire F1 season with me, but she left the Prix schedule two weeks ago when she got sick with a bad flu. Her dad and I thought it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to travel while throwing up every time she smelled coffee or cigarettes. She pouted all the way home, but I promised to FaceTime her every day until I could come home for summer break to make up for my betrayal as she puts it.
I brought her a special present I had custom made to cheer her up. Creativity struck and I delivered. The wheels of my car squeal as I park my McCoy Menace car in our driveway, a smile tugging at my lips at the memory of me fucking Sophie against the hood in this very spot.
I unlock our front door quietly, wanting to surprise Sophie. She thinks my plane lands tomorrow instead of today.
She lounges on the couch and scrolls through her phone. I take a moment to get a look at her, the sickly green color she rocked two weeks ago no longer a problem. Her skin has a golden glow that matches her hair cascading around her.
As if she senses me, she looks up from her phone, sending me a breathtaking smile before she bounds off the couch and jumps into my arms. I nearly drop her present on the floor when I grab her.
“You’re back early!” She leaves behind a few kisses on my cheek.
“If this is the welcoming I get, I should stay away longer.”
She pinches my arm when I put her back on her feet. “Next time you should let me know if your flight lands sooner. Imagine if I was in bed with our neighbor.” She looks at the ceiling and catches a breath. What a faker.
“I didn’t think Mrs. Ricci was your type, but grandmas do make good cookies.” I pull her in and give her a quick kiss.
“I know. What do you think I found attractive about her in the first place? God, Liam, not everything is about looks.”
“I think I learned that when you purposefully tried to look bad three years ago and I still wanted to fuck you into next week.”
She smacks me lightly on the shoulder. “It took effort to look that bad. I’m almost disappointed.”
She initiates another kiss, our tongues clashing together after a long time apart. The attraction between us never dulls. Instead, it’s grown stronger over the years, as we’ve learned and appreciated more about each other.
The moment you move in with someone, you learn everything. Like how Sophie needs coffee before all else, including sex. I learned my lesson after one too many grumpy sunrise sex sessions. Now every morning, I bring her coffee in bed. Purely selfish of me, but the smile she gives me every damn day makes walking downstairs with a boner well worth it.
I learned how she enjoys trashy American reality television, resulting in us joining a Bachelor fantasy league, much to my horror. Or how when a storm comes, she likes to lounge in bed all day drawing while I read. She especially loves lying outside and staring up at the night sky, like she told me all those years ago, but now she gets the added bonus of my kisses.
Three years later and I still love her with everything in me.
“I have something for you. You know what they say: happy wife, happy life.” I break away from our kisses.
