You look hot in red,” he says, a hand on my thigh as our limo snakes its way through central London.I rest my head on his shoulder and smile.The dress is Valentino, long, strapless, figure-hugging at the bodice, with a soft silk skirt that moves like water.
“Are yousureyou’re not nervous?”he asks.
“For the hundredth time, no.I’m not nervous,” I say, reaching down to adjust the straps on my pumps.“I mean, I’m nervous about my first red carpet in six-inch stilettos, but no, I’m not nervous about what we’re about to do.We’re ready.”
Matt smiles, reaching for my hand and pulling it into his lap.His palm is clammy as he squeezes my fingers.I realizehe’sthe one who is nervous.
“It’s going to be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Matt, I just took Arden to the top in my second seasonas team principal,” I remind him.“I don’t need anyone’s permission to be dating you.I do not give a damn.”
He laughs, squeezing my hand again.“You’ve come a long way, Bug.”
I really have.I believe in myself now.And so does everyone else.
“I guess I’m about to retire,” Matt says, turning his head with a grin.“So, I don’t need to care what people say either.”
A cough from the front of the car.“We’re nearly there,” our driver says, catching my eye in the rearview mirror.“Want me to do a lap?”
“No.We’re ready.”
“Anyway, we have to be,” I say, turning to Matt.“There’s only so long we could ask Archie, Keyla, and Barry to cover for us.”
“Don’t forget poor Noah,” he says, laughing.
“The Sexiest Driver of 2024?BritishVoguecover model?Who could forget him?”
Matt gives me a look.“Who herehasn’tbeen on the cover of BritishVogue?”
I feel a flutter in my belly as the car pulls up outside the hotel for the FIA Awards.I never dared to imagine that Arden would be the most improved team of the year under my stewardship, two years running.That we would get two wins this year, multiple podiums, and third place overall.That I would have the F1 world at my feet, and finally feel like I deserve everything.And Matt, my Matt, is here on my arm, supporting me, pushing me, and loving me.
The car stops and a long red carpet stretches ahead from the street into the foyer.I bite my lip and breathe out to steel myself.
Our driver slips out of the front seat and moves around to open our door.
I look over at Matt, just needing one more confirmation that he’s ready before jumping off the cliff.“Once we do this, we can’t go back.Everyone will know that Chloe Coleman and Matt Warner are a couple and...”
The door is about to open, and the photographers turn their lenses on us right away.
“We’re ready,” he says, gently placing his hand on my lower back.“And I love you, Bug.”
I turn to him, just out of view of the cameras.“I love you too.They’re gonna see the ring, though, Matt.”I grin, still unable to believe it.
I lift my hand up to his, the simple diamond dancing in the light, and he takes my fingers gently and kisses the ring.“Fuck it.Let’s go.”
Then all hell breaks loose as the door opens.
Matt steps out first, and the scrum of photographers and fans come alive.He waves cheerily before turning to offer a hand to me.I step out of the car and then focus all my attention on standing in these damn heels.
Matt doesn’t let go of my hand as he leads me slowly up the red carpet, and together, hand in hand, we pose for photos.
“Matt, is Chloe your date or your team principal?”says a reporter from Sky Sport.
Matt turns to me, and our eyes meet, and we smile at each other.
“Both,” he replies.
