Except she had modified it. A subtle detail I almost missed—the streaks of navy and gold added into the black and red design. And her driver logo next to mine.
Our colors. Two different teams, but our history nonetheless.
I swallowed hard, my heart squeezing. I had agreed without thinking when she asked if she could borrow it. Whatever she wanted, she could have.
I just hadn’t known she would do this.
Auri looked up at me, tilting her head slightly, eyes warm, full of something deep and unreadable.
“You really thought I wasn’t going to support you in your last race?” she murmured in that perfect French accent, voice just loud enough for me to hear over the roar of the crowd.
My pulse hammered. I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded and tried to avoid the emotion clogging my throat.
Of course she would do this.
I had spent the entire season pushing her, guiding her, falling for her, falling into her. And here she was, holding me up in my final race.
“The grid won’t be the same without you next year. But you’ve taught me so much. Like how to quiet the noise and just take it all in.” Her eyes softened, and I was so fucking proud of her. At the beginning of the season, she was struggling to balance the gravity of being in this sport, in the constant limelight.
“But knowing you are still chasing your dreams after achieving every single one you’ve ever imagined? You’re an inspiration. You inspire me every day. And I admire everything about you. That’s why I wanted your helmet design—as a reminder that you did it, and I can, too.” Her eyes wereswimming with tears, and this conversation felt too emotionally intimate for the grid, and yet, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
“Well, that, and I also wanted the world to know how proud I am to be yours.”
Jesus Christ.
My next breath rattled in my chest, and rather than kiss her, I grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into my chest, holding her tight to me like the embrace was the only thing that would stabilize me.
“I love you so fucking much, mo chridhe.”
“You are my everything, mon amour.”
I pulled back, brushing my knuckles against her jaw.
“Try to keep up out there,” I murmured.
Her lips quirked. “Try not to cry when I overtake you.”
I exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking my head as I backed away. And then, for the last time, I walked to my car.
The grid felt different tonight.Louder. Brighter. Final.
I inhaled deeply, fingers flexing against the wheel, feeling the weight of twenty years in this sport, of five championships, of this moment.
One more moment.
The last time I’d experience sitting on a grid with nineteen other drivers. With the love of my life.
Callum Fraser versus Aurélie Fraser on the front row.
And the whole world knew it.
We weren’t just drivers anymore—we were husband and wife. Teammates in legacy. Rivals in myth.
The lights above flickered.
One.
Two.
