They say actions speak louder than words, but Jack’s words are saying one thing, and his actions are saying something entirely different. As we settle into a cuddle, I become surer and surer that wasnotfriends-with-benefits sex. It was anything but.
The Dutch Grand Prix afterparty was two whole months ago. Could he have… changed his mind? I did it, would it be so impossible for him too? Bottomless wanting wells up inside me, exacerbated by his soothing hand drawing shapes on my back.
‘How was today?’ I ask.
He takes a moment to respond. ‘Ackland were looking really strong in practice. And Volare – god knows what breakthroughthey had before Silverstone, but that car’s a bloody thunderbird. It’s going to be a fiery quali tomorrow, that’s for sure.’
He doesn’t want to talk about Luca. Makes sense. ‘What about Mart?—’
‘I saw Tom coming out the garage in his race suit,’ he says, voice suddenly distant, ‘and for a split second I thought it was…’
I hold him tighter and rest my nose against his chest. Luca used to drive for Martinelli.
We lapse into silence for the longest time, so long I think he’s drifted off to sleep.
‘It was the Champions League semi-final,’ he says, and I start a little. ‘Juventus/Chelsea, in their stadium in Turin. I think Luc and I were… fourteen? I had such blind faith in my team I bet him an overtake. If Juventus won, he got to overtake me in the next race, and vice versa.
‘My first mistake was he agreed and I didn’t get alarm bells. I should’ve known better. See, I was all balls and bravado with nothing behind it, and Luc was softly spoken and quiet, but he had the confidence of Ronaldo.
‘So match day comes and it’s like Christmas on steroids. A once in a lifetime pairing. The stadium was something else. Made Stamford Bridge look like a Division 1 ground. I had to watch the match from Juventus hospitality – but I didn’t eat any of the food or use the toilets.’
I want to laugh. He’s so freaking sweet.
‘Luc barely watches it,’ he continues. ‘He’s off flirting with this pizza vendor while I’m chomping my nails down to stubs.’
‘Chelsea lost,’ I mumble. I don’t follow football but even I know where this is going.
‘Chelsea lost,’ he repeats grimly. ‘Luc walks out with a win, an overtake, and an eighteen-year-old’s number. His dad was weeping tears of joy.Weeping, Roberts. I’d never seen a grownman do that. At Chelsea, men only cry when police bring out tear gas.’
‘Did you let Luc have the position?’
He nods. ‘I nearly lost my seat at Pagari. Team principal almost strangled me. I don’t know how he knew, but I wasn’t as stealthy as I am now.’ I catch his wink in the darkness, and he starts laughing under his breath. ‘We were the worst for each other.’
I kiss his chest. ‘That’s what best friends are for.’
‘I miss him, Minnie,’ he says, barely audible. ‘I miss him all the time.’
‘I know you do.’
‘But you… you make it better.’
I hug him as tightly as I can and throw all my energy into trying not to take him to heart. But I fear that ship sailed long ago.
Chapter 44
MINNIE
SURREY, ENGLAND
‘Minnie, can you come down here please?’ Mum calls from the kitchen. There’s a veiled threat behind it, not like the dogs are getting snappy with each other or she doesn’t know how to delete her Instagram comment.
‘Yes?’ I say, trying to stop catastrophising and bring my heart rate down as I walk in.
She’s squinting at the phone in her hand – my phone. My heart stills. ‘Why is anat Sir C Roberts 1974wishing you luck in São Paulo?’ Her voice is deadly calm. When she looks up at me, her eyes are no different.
There was never going to be a good time to tell her but halfway through putting my hair in rollers for my flight definitely isn’t how I imagined it. I try to scramble together all the excuses, context and explanations I’ve been concocting for months, but right now, standing in the kitchen in my panda slippers, Coco humping Maggie’s bed in the corner, it all seems so feeble. She’s going to go ballistic however I spin it.
I suck in a fortifying breath. ‘I went for coffee with Dad.’
