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I walk away without another word, happily leaving with Ivy on my arm. The happiness may befake, but she doesn’t know that.
Good riddance.
Why do I even care?
3
Neveah
“Mel,I don’t think I can do this.” I blow out a huge breath and rest my forehead on the steering wheel.
“Excuse me, I am talking to Neveah, right? Because my friend, the Neveah I know, wouldn’t say that. She’d say yes, she can do it. And you know you can. You got this, girlfriend. You did the homework, you weighed all your options, and you’re makinga good decision.” Mel continues her pep talk, and while it’s kind of sinking in, it still doesn’t get rid of the feeling of dread. “Hell, you even got your dad and brother on board andwithminimal complaining.”
My head snaps up. “But that’s the thing. Maybe they’re right.”
“No. No, you don’t believe that. You would’ve said something sooner.”
“Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“That thing you do.Alwaysknowing exactly how I feel.”
Mel cackles, the sound loud as it plays through my car’s Bluetooth. “Yeah, that’s never gonna happen. I could read your mind the day we met. Anyway”—she talks faster, and I can’t get a word in, which is definitely on purpose—“I know you’re worried he’s going to recognize you. And if he does, so what? Just brush it off.”
“I don’t know. The look between us wasintense.”
“But it was just that—a look. Ignore it.”
I take a deep breath and try to think positively. She’s right. Ignore it. I can do this. It’s business. And I need this. My familyneedsthis.
Pulling down the car visor, I slide the mirror open and check my reflection. I run a hand through my hair and dab at my eyes, fixing a couple of smudge spots.I got this.
“You’re right, Mel. Thank you. I’ve done this a million times before. How is this any different?”
“Exactly. Call me when you’re done, and we can celebrate tonight. I was thinkingdrinksand dinner at my place? I feel like watching a cheesy movie.”
I smile. As much as I enjoy going out, hanging out with Mel, no matter where we are, is always a good time. “I’ll be there. Text me what to bring.”
“Just your fine ass self.”
I laugh, my mood slightly lifted.
* * *
The clockon the wall in my office ticks loudly. Usually, the sound blends in the background, my oil diffuser and background music making enough sounds of their own.
But today, all I hear is the damn clock. As if it’s mocking me.Thirty minutes… twenty minutes… ten…
I kill the music and tidy up mydeskall while talking to myself. Like I told myself earlier, I've done this before. Have meetings, sponsor drivers. I’m confident and know what I need in a driver. What the company needs. I grew upliving and breathingthis shit. My dad brought us to races and drilled the sport into our heads.
But the look. I can’t get it out of my head.
It’s been on replay since it happened a week ago.
Out of everyone in the crowded bar, hiseyes connected with mine, and I swear something sparked between us. Some weird undercurrent I can’t even explain, but it was enough to make him walk over to me.
I kept my cool, my feelings out of it, knowingexactlywhat type of driver he is. And he left without uttering a single word?
