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“Umm, sorry again for the language, folks, hopefully, we were able to bleep that out in time, umm,” the interviewer fumbles around.
I pull away and smile down at Cole, unwrap my legs from him, and slide down. He lets me but doesn’t fully let me go.
This is his home crowd, this is his race. I want him to bask in it, enjoy it, let all of his fans celebrate alongside him. With his hand in mine, I raise it above us and point at him. The crowd goes nuts.
Cole climbs on top of his car and pumps his fists, waves to all the hometown fans in the crowd, relishes in the glory he’s earned. I beam at him from the ground, so proud.
I’m watching Cole so intensely I’m caught off guard when my feet lift off the ground, and I’m being spun around in a circle.
“Making an honest man out of him, huh?” Dante cheers before he stops spinning me and puts me down.
“You’re next,” I tell him and give him a huge hug.
“Hell no, bellissima.”
Cole jumps down from his car, and the interviewer swarms him, “We’ll have to check the history books, but I think this may be a first. What an incredible day! We had a rain delay, an absolute stunner of a race, and then this! Were you expecting this at all, Cole?”
“Which part?”
The interviewer laughs, “Well, any of it.”
“Then yes, yes, and yes,” Cole answers.
“I suppose you wouldn’t be an F1 driver if you weren’t so confident, but you’re saying you knew there’d be a marriage proposal over your team radio today?”
“No, but I did know many years ago that there’d be one, one day,” he runs his hand through his hair then waves to the crowd again.
“Amazing, just amazing. Congratulations from all of us, you’ve given the fans quite a show today.”
“Thank you to all the fans, thank you for coming out in the rain today, for all of your support. My team, everyone back home in London, thank you all so much. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s some champagne to be sprayed, and then I’d like to take my fiancé home,” he winks at the camera, and the crowd goes wild again.
He walks away from the interviewer and speeds up to the podium ceremony while the other two top drivers answer their questions. I feel a little bad, but not too bad, that we’ve upstaged the whole thing.
Champagne sprays down on all of us below the podium after everyone is presented with their trophies. I’m drenched in it by the time Cole takes my hand, and we race back to the motorhome.
There’s more cheering and clapping as he drags me upstairs and into his room. I expect him to pin me
up against the wall as soon as he kicks the door closed behind him, but he’s ripping his race suit off and pulling new clothes out of his closet.
“You didn’t seriously think I was going to make love to my fiancé for the first time in the motorhome?” He asks when he sees my questioning eyes.
“I kind of did, yes,” I laugh.
He pulls on a pair of jeans and stalks to me, takes my face in his hands, and whispers into my lips, “You thought wrong, gorgeous girl. I’ll be damned if we walked through fire all these years not to do this right.”
“Where are we going, then?”
“Wherever you want. I’m thinking we need a hotel suite for a few days, a private jet home, then I intend to do just what I said—marry the shit out of you. Immediately.”
“Yes, please.”
“Unless you want to get married here, in the States?”
“No, our family is back in London. Take me home.”
Epilogue
December - London
