I used to think being in the cockpit of my car was the best place I would ever be. But here, now, watching Alyssia fall asleep in my arms, I’ve utterly revised my thinking.
CHAPTER 31
Alyssia
“What’s this?” I ask Travis, a week later, as he holds the rental car door open for me.
We’ve just driven from London out to Silverstone. A huge, mostly glass building looms over the car, casting a shadow over us.
“The Silverstone F1 and Motor Racing Museum,” he answers as I allow him to help me out of the car.
My entire body stiffens as I stop walking.
“Why are we here?”
“This place showcases the history of my sport.”
I begin shaking my head before he’s completed his answer. Images of cars flying down racetracks flash through my mind but are soon replaced by bent metal, broken glass, and shattered bodies.
I start to raise my hand to my shoulder, to massage the tingling that starts there, but Travis’ hand takes mine, stopping me.
“Why would you bring me here?” I try to pull my hand away, but Travis tightens his hold. “I don’t need to learn more about motor racing.”
Despite the fear and mounting anger washing over me, my heart strings tug at the sadness that invades Travis’ eyes as soon as I say this. I know it’s completely unfair, and even hurtful, to willfully reject someone else’s passion. Especially when that someone is the man you’re falling in love with, who also happens to be the father of the baby you’re carrying.
My breathing shallows as the different realities of my life begin to collide.
“Alyssia, listen to me.” Travis’ voice is calm, steady, but holds a raw emotion that pulls my gaze back up to his. “I brought you here to show you that my driving isn’t nearly as dangerous as you think it is.”
I part my lips to ask how he would know but he’s quicker than I am.
“What happened to you and your parents was the result of some low lives who had no respect or consideration for other people. Their recklessness stole from you—all of you, but that’s not Formula 1.”
He squeezes my hand.
“You know … about the accident?” I’ve never gone into full details about the accident with him.
“I found some articles and …” he drops his gaze to my shoulder, even though it’s covered by the short sleeves of my sundress, “pieced it together.”
I glance away, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“The people who pioneered and work in Formula 1 have spent millions of dollars, exercised enormous brain power, and gathered years of science and technological innovation to make this sport as safe as possible. Let me show it to you.”
The fear still courses through me, but it’s the pleading in his voice that finds me granting him a short nod.
We’re met at the door by our own person museum guide, Scott.
I do my best to stay out of my own head and focus on the information being shared. Sometime between the part where Scott shares that the sport of Formula 1 was pioneered by former World War II veterans, and the displays of what look like oversized tin cans (which were some of the first F1 cars), I force myself to look at this from the angle of market research.
Instead of personalizing or imagining Travis behind the wheel of these very unsafe cars with nothing for a helmet save for what’s tantamount to a leather cap, I hone in on the numbers and facts that Scott shares. The developments from one year to the next of the sports equipment.
Doing my best to look at it from an analytical or depersonalized point of views, makes it easier to bear.
“You’re in luck,” Scott says, suddenly even more animated. “We just opened up our Severino Ferreira exhibit this week.”
That last name sounds familiar. I try to place it.
“He was one of the greats,” Scott goes on. “What he accomplished in this sport, both on the track and off is nothing short of gold. I highly recommend checking it out,” Scott says to me, then looks over at Travis.
