“Then you relocate to London by Christmas, and we build something significant together.” Her smile carried quiet confidence. “But Wally, understand what you’d be committing to. This isn’t just career advancement, it’s becoming a specialist in a very narrow field. Formula 1 and motorsports would become your entire professional identity.”
When I got back to the apartment, I texted Jonathan to ask when we could talk. “I’m flying to Philadelphia tomorrow afternoon,” I added. “Want to talk about what Apex has offered before I put a whole ocean between us.”
He replied that he would FaceTime me later that night, and the chime happened shortly after nine o’clock. The tile flickered on my phone: his face framed by a high-windowed apartment, the hum of night traffic in the background.
I told him what Thea had offered.
“So,” Jonathan said, voice gentle. “London by Christmas. What do you think?”
I held the phone steady. “I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in.”
“It starts with you,” Jonathan said. “First and foremost, it’s your career and your decision. What do you think? You loved making a difference with your work in Philadelphia. Could you give that up for a niche like motorsports?”
“I wrote a good environmental piece on Silverstone this week and touched on environmental concerns with Lando Norris. And I could always freelance on the side, in between traveling to races. It’s a lot of money, Jonathan. And the travel budget means I could keep up with you.”
“I know you worry about the financial difference between us, Waldo. But that should be low on your list of priorities.”
“I love the idea that we could travel together on the Formula 1 circuit,” I admitted. “This would be a way for us to keep building whatever we have between us.”
“What we have is love, Waldo,” Jonathan said gently.
“I know. But I’m worried that I’m moving into your life. What if we break up, and we’re still joined at the hip? Or if something happens and you have to stop racing, and I’m stuck covering motorsports?”
Jonathan blew out a deep breath. “I understand you’re trying to predict the future, but no one can do that. All we have is now. What does your heart say?”
“That’s easy. That I want to be with you.”
“Then take the job and meet me in Hungary for the rest of the European circuit, and we’ll see what happens.”
I exhaled, the day’s adrenaline finally fading. “And if I say no, and go back to Philadelphia?”
His eyes didn’t waver. “Then I’ll chase you across time zones. Because it’syou, not the area code that matters to me.”
He yawned. “I’ve got to get to bed. Early practice tomorrow. Think about what you want, Waldo. And if you can, think about what we want as a couple too.”
The screen went dark. I stared at my reflection in the glass for a long moment. The offer was no longer just about journalism. It was a crossroads.
26
THE TRICKY TRIANGLE
Two WeeksLater - Philadelphia
I spent the first week back in Philadelphia handling practical matters, lease negotiations with my landlord, coffee meetings with colleagues at the Inquirer, visits with my parents to explain the opportunity without revealing the personal complications that made the decision difficult.
“London,” my mother said as we sat on my parents’ back deck, sharing a beer while my father worked on a customer’s BMW in the garage. “That’s a long way from home.”
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Mom. The kind of job I dreamed about but never thought I’d get offered.”
“And there’s nothing going on besides the job?” Her tone suggested she suspected there was more to the story than career advancement.
“I met someone,” I said.
Her eyebrows lifted immediately. “Youmet someone,” she repeated, savoring the phrase. “That sounds promising.”
“Yes,” I said, and was surprised by how certain it felt. “But it’s complicated. Our jobs overlap more than is probably wise. His name’s Jonathan Hirsch. We dated briefly at Penn, and we… found our way back to each other.”
“And?”
