SCAFFOLDING
Apex Headquarters,Shoreditch
The London office felt different in August, quieter, half the staff already on holiday, and Formula 1 on pause until Zandvoort. Jonathan was in Germany with the team. I was in London, working through the assignments Thea had laid out: driver profiles, a feature on Nat Siripanit’s rise, and a comparison of team upgrades since Monaco. I was doing the work not just to meet deadlines, but to prove something, to myself and to Apex.
Because the contract still wasn’t finalized.
It was drafted, printed, sitting in a red folder on the corner of Thea Blackwood’s glass desk. Senior Correspondent, Global Motorsport.
Base salary: double what I made in Philadelphia. Travel budget: enough to follow every race. Start date: January 2026, covering the full next season.
“How’s the revision to the American motorsport piece coming?” Thea asked, appearing at my desk with coffee and the kind of focused energy that made Apex successful. “The Pocono analysis was brilliant, but we need broader context for the print feature.”
I pulled up my draft, scrolling through 2,800 words comparing European and American racing culture. “Almost there. I’m working on the conclusion about whether F1’s American expansion is sustainable long-term.”
“And your conclusion?”
“Depends on American drivers succeeding consistently. Netflix brought curiosity, but sustained interest requires sustained success.” I paused, choosing words carefully. “Someone like Hirsch winning races helps, but one or two drivers aren’t enough to build a permanent fanbase. You need multiple American drivers competing at the front.”
“Speak of the devil,” Thea said, nodding toward the television mounted above the features desk. Sky Sports was running a summer break special: “Championship Contenders,” featuring extended interviews with the title fight’s main protagonists.
Jonathan appeared on screen in a professional studio. He looked rested and confident, wearing a perfectly tailored navy suit that made his eyes look impossibly blue.
Very different from the exhausted, doubting man who’d left my hotel room at Spa.
“The championship fight is closer than anyone expected at this point,” the interviewer was saying. “After Spa, you’re third in the standings, forty-three points behind Verstappen. How do you assess your chances going into the second half of the season?”
“I’m focused on our own performance rather than the standings,” Jonathan replied with diplomatic precision. “Spa was frustrating. We had the pace for a podium but couldn’t execute. But we’ve won twice this season, and the team’s making progress. The points will take care of themselves if we keep doing our jobs.”
I found myself studying his body language, the way he carried himself with practiced confidence. This was his publicface, the one that didn’t show doubt or fear or the questions he’d asked me in private.
“Any truth to the rumors about your personal life affecting your racing?” The interviewer’s tone carried the subtle probing that characterized British motorsport journalism.
“My personal life is exactly that, personal,” Jonathan said smoothly. “What happens on track is all that matters for the championship.”
Thea glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “Interesting non-denial.”
I tried to look professionally curious rather than personally invested. “Tabloids always speculate about drivers’ relationships. Comes with the territory.”
“True. Though speculation becomes news when it’s accurate.” Thea’s smile suggested she suspected more than I’d revealed. “Just remember our conversation about transparency. Applies to everything, not just race coverage.”
After she left, I stared at the television where Jonathan was discussing technical regulations and tire strategies with the kind of detailed knowledge that separated champions from merely fast drivers.
My phone buzzed with a text.
JONATHAN:Watching Sky Sports?
WALDO:Unfortunately. You look very sexy in that suit.
JONATHAN:Elena chose it. Says I need to look “championship caliber” for these interviews.
JONATHAN:What are you working on?
WALDO:Why American motorsport is different from European racing. Riveting stuff.
JONATHAN:Miss you.
Those two words hit harder than they should have. We’d been apart for eight days since Spa, maintaining contact through texts and occasional phone calls, but the physical separation wasmore difficult than either of us had expected. Especially with the unresolved tension between us.
