He looked pained, his brows hanging low on his face, the wrinkles growing across his forehead. “I want to help now. I wanted to help then. Your mother moved you across Europe.”
“You worked across Europe!” He followed another motorbike racing championship. Every time MotoBike raced in England, I waited patiently for some communication, staring out the window, waiting for him to appear unannounced.
He never did.
“Please,” he begged and stepped forward again. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“And now you do?”
He shook his head. “Still don’t. Just know I want to try.”
Try. Fuck off.
“Trying isn’t good enough.”
“Let me prove myself,” he said, back in his mother tongue. “Zsófia, just give me achance.”
My mind raced. He was right — there would be reports. And with how technical the machinery was, I may need his help with some of the lexicon.
And he would be there in the pit box, on the grid, on the pit lane every race.
But I’d given him a chance only six years ago, and he’d thrown it back in my face by standing me up.
“Don’t tell anyone I’m your daughter,” I demanded. “I have a different last name. No one needs to know.”
He winced but nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is. We can talk in person, but don’t expect Sunday breakfasts.” Every Sunday, we would have breakfast together. He made the best palacsinta—pancakes like I’d never had from anyone else.
“We’re throwing a team party,” he said. “In Hungary. It would mean the world to your nagyi if you’d be there.” My granny. Four years ago, I found out about my grandad’s death two months after the funeral because no one had reached out.
Imre meant for it to be sweet.
It just enriched the guilt in my chest, my breathing hitching.
I’d been an awful granddaughter.I should let it all go. For them.
It wasn’t Nagyi’s fault her son had abandoned me.
“It’s next month,” he added. “You could stay. She’d love to see you. You can bring your sister too.”
And what about my brothers?It was a spiteful thought, because they couldn’t come seeing as the eldest was fourteen and my parents would most definitely not be welcome.
I was surprised enough that Everly was invited.
“If that would make you more comfortable,” he added. “And Zolt will be there.”
“Okay?” I retorted quickly.Why did he add that?It didn’t matter if he was there or not.
But his shoulders relaxed, and he almost went to hug me.
I realised what I’d said.
I had agreed.
And the people pleaser in me couldn’t take it back now that his face suddenly looked twenty years younger than the fifties he was in.
“Thank you,” Imre said, his voice wobbling with sincerity. “Your nagyi will be so happy.”
