“Sure it is. You’re already managing her routine here. Do the same thing in Singapore. Austin. Brazil. Wherever.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from shaking sense into her. “You’re already with her twenty-four seven.”
“In a house. With facilities. Not bouncing between hotel rooms and airports.”
“First-class everything. Private cars. Whatever you need.”
“Griffin—”
“Three months. That’s all I’m asking. Until the end of the season.”
Her arms tightened across her chest. “You’re asking me to uproot her entire life.”
“I’m asking you to bring her with me so I don’t have to leave her.” My throat tightened. “I can’t do another four days. I won’t.”
“You’re a racing driver. Travel is part of the job.”
“And she’s my daughter. Being there has to be part of it too.”
Violet studied my face for a long moment. “You really can’t handle this.”
“No. I can’t.” My throat tightened. “I hated every second. Every briefing, every lap, I was thinking about what she was doing. Whether she’d smiled. Whether you were managing. Whether she missed me.”
She chewed her lip and I rushed on, uncaring of how desperate I sounded.
“She’d changed when I got home from Monza.” I swallowed hard. “What if I come home next time and she doesn’t recognize me? What if I become the stranger who shows up between races?”
“That’s not how babies work.”
“Isn’t it?” I pulled my hands free, flexing my fingers. “You said it yourself. Attachment matters. Consistency matters. What if I miss the window?”
She rolled her eyes, but the fight bled from her posture and I had no idea what to do with it. People didn’t respond like this. They told me to toughen up, get over it, remember what I was paid for.
“You’re making it worse than it is.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Probably.” I exhaled. “But I’d rather be dramatic than miss everything important.”
Silence stretched. Her gaze dropped.
“I don’t know,” she said finally.
My chest tightened. “That’s not a no.”
“It’s not a yes either.”
“I’ll take it.” Relief crashed over me. “Just think about it. Please.”
I’d spent my entire career refusing to beg for anything. I’d earned every seat, every contract, every ounce of recognition or, I’d walked away. But this? I’d have gotten on my knees if she’d asked. And the terrifying part was how little I cared about the humiliation.
“How much time do I have?”
“Friday.”
Her head snapped up. “That’s three days.”
“Flight leaves Saturday morning.”
