WAIT. What about a whole tray of food??
My skin itched at the mention of my ex boyfriend, like bugs under my skin. I knew he came to events during the season, but I usually only visited a few times unlike this year, where I was at every race. I chastised myself at the anxiety bubbling up. Ishould have seen this coming, should have mentally prepared. But there was no time for that. My anxiety waned at the thought of Lucia brought to violence in her want to protect me.
Nicola:
Not surprised he’s here but ugh.
I love your viciousness. I’m so proud.
Lucia:
Love YOU!
By the silent auction table
Alex said not to cause a scene but if you want me to I will gladly
“Nic!”
I heard my name first, then the familiar timbre of Carlos’s voice. He appeared through the crowd, steady as ever, his hand hovering at my back before tipping his chin in a silent cue. ‘Come with me.’
I followed him through the throng and into a quieter alcove at the edge of the ballroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows loomed, their doors cracked open to a balcony outside. The cool night air rushed over me like a balm, soothing the spike of my pulse.
“Stai bene?” Carlos asked, his accent curling over the words, so much like my own.
But my mind was elsewhere, already drowning in memories I didn’t invite—sharp edges of a relationship that had imploded back in January, right before the season began. I’d told myself to be ready, to expect him at some point, to prepare for polite hellos and colder silences.
I exhaled, shoulders tight. “Nathaniel is here.”
Carlos hummed low, leaning forward onto the railing. His suit pulled at the seams as he settled, unbothered.
Of course he knew. We all knew Nathaniel. His family’s empire stretched across Formula One like greedy fingers. Big energy money, sponsorship deals, backroom power plays. I’d been foolish to hope this year might be different, that he wouldn’t attend events. But it had only taken a few months for him to resurface, as bold and smug as ever.
“I know it’s stupid,” I muttered.
“It’s not.”
“It’s been almost a year,” I pressed, dragging a hand across my forehead. “And yet here I am, flustered over a stupid man.” My voice pitched, sharp with irritation, but Carlos’s lips twitched like he was seconds away from laughing. I caught it. “No offense.”
“None taken; men suck.” His shrug was easy, used to my antics. “Don’t let him mess this up, Nicola. This isyournight. Don’t give him that power. He doesn’t deserve even the corner of your thoughts.”
A reluctant smile tugged at me. “You know, you do have flashes of wisdom every now and then.”
“Few and far between.” His grin broke wide, warm, before he draped an arm around my shoulder. “Now come on. You need another drink, kid.”
“You’re literally two years older than me,” I shot back.
He arched his brow. “And who bailed you out when you tried that awful fake ID at sixteen? Who covered when you snuck out of boarding school to see that band you were obsessed with?”
I groaned, throwing a hand up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it. What would I do without you?”
Carlos barked a laugh, nudging my shoulder as we turned back toward the ballroom.
“We need alcohol. Now,” I announced, draining the last sip of my wine.
“Something stronger than wine,” he agreed, steering us back into the light and noise.
Carlos and I were well into our second round of vodka sodas when he was snagged by a group of late arrivals. He gave me one last look over his shoulder, lips jutting into an exaggerated pout before disappearing into the crowd. I snorted into my drink, nearly spilling it, the laughter bubbling easy. That was Carlos—always able to pull it out of me. He’d had tunnel vision even back then, talking about engines and tracks. He always wanted to be a racecar driver, following his own father’s footsteps.
