“Have you spoken to Mom and Dad yet?” Tristan pivots the conversation back to me.
“Calling them as soon as I hang up with you pains in the ass.”
“I’m sure Mom will respond better than this one did.” Annalise motions her head in Tristan’s direction. “Because, you know, she’s not like an ordinary mom, she’s a cool mo–”
“Goodbye.”
I disconnect the call with a shake of my head, before I dial my dad’s number. It’s almost ten at night here in Monaco, which means it’s early evening back home in Williamsport.
Both of my parents are usually finished working by late afternoon.
“Hey, Travis.” My dad’s warm voice puts a smile on my face.
“Hi, Dad. Are you and Mom busy?”
“Never too busy for any of you. Your mom just got off of a work call.”
I snort. “You know this because you were watching her, weren’t you?”
A deep chuckle pushes through the phone. I used to think it was weird the way my father could never keep his eyes off of my mother. Whenever she worked from home, she would leave her office door slightly opened because she knew our dad enjoyed watching her in business mode.
Lately, though, with the amount of time my thoughts continue to stray to Alyssia, I’m beginning to understand it. However, knowing she’s moved into an apartment decidedly not in my building tempers every thought of her with frustration.
My mother’s voice on the other end of the phone brings me out of my straying thoughts.
“Hey, Mom, I need to talk to you and Dad. Can we do a video call, actually?”
A minute later my phone beeps with my father’s incoming request for a video call.
“That’s better,” I say once both of their faces fill the screen. They’re sitting in my dad’s office, my mom on his lap, which isn’t unusual.
Not only can’t he keep his eyes off of her, but his hands as well.
“Is something wrong?” There’s a pinch between my mother’s eyebrows.
“Did you get hurt?” The concern is echoed again in my dad’s voice.
“No. I’m good.”
“If I need to get on a plane, just say the word,” my mom starts. “I don’t like the way Rosenberg clipped you in the last race.” Her face scrunches up.
“He saw you had the overtake and tried to play dirty,” she gripes.
“It was an accident,” I tell her, trying to hide my chuckle. My mom’s always been protective over me. Over all four of us, to be honest. She’s the first one to bitch out anyone she thinks may be a threat to us.
I can’t count how many of my fellow drivers, coaches, and a couple of team principals she’s threatened to take on for accidents or near misses in a race.
“And you’re defending him,” she tuts.
“It’s poor sportsmanship to talk shit about your fellow drivers, Precious,” Dad says, using his favorite pet name for my mom.
Mom waves him off. “You would say that. It’s your fault my baby is a race driver now. I told you about buying all of those toy cars and taking him go-karting when he was just six years old. Now look.”
“Yeah, he’s only one of the best drivers in the world.”
Mom smiles at that but it’s my heart that sinks. I haven’t proven myself as one of the best. Not yet.
I clear my throat, drawing their attention. “Can we get back to my point of this call, please?”
