My smile faded. “She was okay with it?”
“She said she already knew,” he said, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Said she was just waiting for me to stop pretending she didn’t.”
“That’s good.”
“She made it easier. My dad… didn’t. He asked whether I was sure. Told me it might complicate sponsorships, family reputation, inheritance. Said it would be better for everyone if we didn’t talk about it outside the house.”
“And you agreed?”
“I wanted to race. And I thought that meant I had to trade pieces of myself away to keep the rest.”
He looked at me then, raw and honest.
“Until I realized I couldn’t keep doing that.”
He stopped walking. “I’m not telling you this for sympathy,” he said quietly. “I just want you to understand how I learned to live.”
I felt a sudden rush of gratitude for how different my own parents had been. “I came out to my family because I was tired ofthe hiding, of all the effort it took to make up stories about who my friends were, what activities I took part in.”
“How did your parents take it?”
“Surprisingly well. One of my father’s best customers was a gay man with a high-end Land Rover who was one of the plaintiffs inWhitewood v. Wolf, the case that legalized same-sex marriage in Pennsylvania. Hearing him talk about the guy and how he just wanted to make his relationship legal gave me the courage to open up, and compare myself to his customer.”
Jonathan nodded slowly, like he was filing the story somewhere careful.
I smiled, watching the boy flicker through the man, the same mix of arrogance and joy that had once terrified and fascinated me in equal measure. The night air was cool, but something in my chest felt warm, dangerously so.
Two journalists pushed out of the hotel ahead of us, still arguing in low voices about a rumor they couldn’t quite confirm. The wordsembargoandsourcedrifted back on the air.
Jonathan’s expression sharpened.
“Transparency,” he said, kicking a small stone ahead of us as we walked. “That’s what he’s suggesting. Full disclosure to the people who matter, then working twice as hard to prove the relationship doesn’t compromise either of our jobs.”
Michael’s proposal had been surprisingly pragmatic. Rather than demanding we hide the relationship or end it, he’d outlined a strategy that acknowledged reality while protecting our professional integrity.
“Think Thea will go for it?” I asked.
“Elena will. She’s already figured it out anyway.” Jonathan glanced at me. “Your editor’s the wild card. How doesApexhandle conflicts of interest?”
I thought about Thea Blackwood’s reputation for ethical journalism and her intolerance for anything that mightcompromise the magazine’s credibility. “She’ll want safeguards. Other editors reviewing my Jonathan-specific pieces, maybe rotating me to cover other drivers more heavily.”
“Dad’s right about one thing. You interviewing Hamilton and Leclerc more often would strengthen your position. Shows you’re not just the American driver’s personal press secretary.”
We reached the highway, where the steady whisper of traffic became louder.
“Are we making a mistake?” I asked. “Your father made it sound manageable, but the scrutiny, the questions about every article I write…”
Jonathan stopped walking, turning to face me under the pale glow of a highway lamp. “Waldo, three months ago I was a midfield driver hoping for points finishes. Now I’m qualifying on the front row at Silverstone, fighting for podiums, with a real shot at race wins. You think that’s coincidence?”
“The car’s improved,” I said.
“The car’s part of it. But having you here, having someone who understands what this means? It’s made me braver. More willing to push the limits when it matters.”
I studied his face in the sodium lighting, seeing the certainty there that had been building since Monaco. “And if I write something critical? If you have a bad race and I analyze what went wrong?”
“Then you write something critical. That’s your job.” His smile was soft but confident. “Besides, if you’re not holding me accountable, who will?” He laughed. “That is, besides my father.”
We resumed walking, heading back to where he had parked his rental car.
