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Keeps me on top. Keeps me winning.
“I won’t.”
“I want to go on record that sleeping with your ex isn’t a good idea.”
A chuckle escapes my lips. “I’m aware of that. We haven’t slept together. We had dinner last night.”
“I saw the gossip sites. All the fan forums are speculating how this is going to affect your driving on Sunday.”
“It won’t affect my driving at all,” I say sharply. “This morning I went to see Adrian in the hospital with her. It was the right thing to do, and then we stopped at her condo in downtown Miami. She’d made cookies and I couldn’t resist. That was the only slipup.”
Unless you count the dirty thoughts I’d entertained alone in my hotel room about Lily last night. But even though Lucas and I are tight, he doesn’t need to know all those details.
There’s a long silence in the car. I’m waiting for a reprimand about eating all those simple carbs, and I brace myself when Lucas finally pipes up.
“How’s Adrian?”
Relieved that we’re not discussing my diet, I tell him everything I saw and heard from Lily about her father’s condition. Lucas inhales. “It’s going to be a difficult few weeks, but he’ll pull through.”
We go over the plan for the afternoon: gym, stretching, massage, then two interviews. I’m glad he’s not dwelling on the Lily situation.
“For tonight, I’d like you to take it easy in the hotel room. It’s about as warm here as Miami, so I don’t want you going into the week dehydrated. Sleep is a priority, especially in light of recent events.”
Sleep is always a problem and a priority for me. “What events?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Lily?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I’m older now, dude. Mentally stronger. I’ve got this.”
I pull out my phone, signaling that this conversation is over. But when I skim the headlines inDer Spiegel, Germany’s largest paper, I spot a photo of Lily and me standing outside the hospital in Miami.
I don’t read the article—I rarely do, and avoid the comment sections at all costs—but the headline is burned in my brain.
Ehemalige Liebhaber.
Former Lovers.
The wordformertriggers something in me, a sad, depressing feeling. It reminds me of the day Lily ended things between us. The day that defined me, inspired me, broke me.
It was two days after the season ended. I was twenty-two, and on top of the world because I’d come in second in the overall rankings that season, behind Dante Annunziata, a legend in the sport. A near unprecedented rookie season, in fact. It had been the twilight of Dante’s career, and even he acknowledged that I was the future of this sport—and he’d been notoriously picky when he was a driver. I’d never confided in him about Lily, however—not even after Dante and I ended up on the same team and became friends.
Back when I dated Lily, we were in Dubai at the end of the season. Lily and I had planned to steal away on a desert safari. She came to my hotel room that morning after having breakfast with her father. Her face was tear stained, and I drew her into my arms.
“What’s wrong, Mausebär?” I always called her that in German because the translation—mouse bear—made her giggle, and I loved nothing more than hearing that sound.
“I can’t do this,” she’d said through her tears.
“We don’t have to go to the desert. We can stay here and hang out.” Back then, I was pretty dense.
“No,” she cried. “This. Us. My father knows about us and he’s pissed. He was furious at breakfast. And the press keeps blaming me for your performance this season. I can’t handle the pressure, Max.”
I kissed her forehead and told her everything would be okay. Told her that we’d work through it, that her father would eventually come around, to ignore all of the chatter from the press.
“It won’t be easy, but we can do this together. I believe in us,” I’d said.
