“Splendid. We find out the sex soon. Your dad doesn’t want to know, but I do,” Adelaide replies. “I’m all over the place with names and knowing will help me focus.”
“Charles if it’s a boy. It’s what my dad would have called Lucia or me if we’d been one,” I tell her. “It was his dad’s name.”
She shakes her head, then brushes back a strand of hair that’s fallen from the side of the French braid. “He said that was for him and Mirabella. He doesn’t want to use it now, with me. I respect that.”
I take a shaky breath at the mention of my mother. “He’ll be a great dad.”
“He already is.”
I nod. “And you’ll do a bang up job too.”
She smiles. “Thanks.”
My dad barges back onto the terrace. He sits down and we finish breakfast in a heavy silence. Then he scoops the blazer with the Mirabella crest off the back of the chair he was in and slips it on. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”
He doesn’t mention Lucia, and so I don’t either. He holds Adelaide’s hand all the way down to the lobby, where he climbs into his car after her, and I climb into my car alone. Nick puts the car in gear and pulls into traffic. “I saw Lucia storm out, so that went well.”
“Dad knocked…” I pause and realize I don’t want to refer to my impending sibling that way. “Adelaide and Dad are having a baby.”
I watch his eyes widen in surprise through the rearview mirror. “That’s… well, I mean… congrats.”
“Yeah. I know. It’s a dramatic shift to say the least.”
“And you and Lucia are still questioning Adelaide’s motives, so I can see where a fight might have happened,” Nick replies. I nod.
“I don’t think I’m questioning Ade’s motives anymore,” I reply as I watch the world whiz by outside. “I really do just want him to be happy. And I don’t hate the idea of a sibling. I hope it’s a boy.”
Nick smiles. I can tell by the way his eyes crinkle in the corners in the rearview. “There’s nothing a male child could give Bash that he doesn’t get from the two of you.”
I smile back at him through the mirror with gratitude.
“So… I take it you’re also not questioning Billy James’ motives anymore?” Nick asks quietly as he pulls to a stop at a red light. “Judging by the way he didn’t leave your room after ten minutes last night.”
I purposely look out the window to avoid him reading anything I’m not willing to say on my face. “I have new information that has changed my perspective on him and our past. He wasn’t using me to get to my dad.”
“And now?” Nick pushes. “Is he using you now?”
“No. I mean…” I bite my bottom lip. “Well, maybe, but in the same way I’m using him.”
I glance in the mirror and see Nick’s eyes cloud with confusion. “Sex,” I clarify. “We were using each other for sex.”
“TMI Frankie.”
“Yeah, because you don’t know anything about bed buddy life, do ya Nick?”
His eyes slide away from the mirror, away from me. “This isn’t about me,” he replies, ignoring my reference to him and my sister. “And I noticed you used the word were. Youwereusing each other.”
“Because it’s over. It’s run its course,” I say airily like I’m talking about why I’m donating clothes that have gone out of style. Oh, if only it was that simple. My heart begs to differ. “I’m his boss, technically, and under way more scrutiny than any other Team Principal may be in the history of this sport. So I need to not be caught naked with my driver.”
“Since when have you bowed to the patriarchy?” Nick asks as he flashes his credentials at the gates to the track, and we pull into the VIP lot. “Didn’t Bash raise you two to give the patriarchy the middle finger instead of worrying about what box they want to put you in?”
“Mom taught us that. Dad backed her up,” I clarify and fuss with my hair. It sounds stupid, but I worry about how I wear it. I hate wearing it back or up because it is so thick and heavy it makes my head hurt and I’m always fussing with loose ends, but I wore it down to the first few races and the press—and assholes on the Mirabella Racing Instagram—made comments. Nasty shit like ‘Oh, princess got a new blowout for the occasion’ and ‘Well if you’re going to tank a race team, you might as well look good doing it.’ So now I’ve been trying to look more business, which I’ve equated with less feminine. Which suddenly angers me.
I get out of the car, not waiting for Nick to walk around and open my door like I usually do. I open it myself and push my shoulders all the way back, which makes my shirt feel tight. So, I unbutton the top button, which I’d stopped doing. I’ve been shamed by trolls on social media, and I’ve been letting them win. Nick is right. I can be a woman, whatever version of woman I want, and not have it alter my qualifications or abilities. And anyone who thinks otherwise can go fuck themselves.
I walk with Nick toward the paddock. Lucia’s race should have already started. I hope she got her head clear enough that she can do well. I don’t begin to understand Lucia’s brain. She is an athlete through-and-through, so she is nothing but adrenaline, focus, and passion. She’s so hyper-focused in racing it’s bled through to everyday life. Everything is black and white to Lucia. Right or wrong. Yes or no. And change… and things like unexpected siblings, are a harder adjustment for her than me. I know my dad will realize that when he calms down.
The look of determination she gets in her dark eyes when she is about to climb into that car, I’ve never seen on anyone else. And yeah, I guess Billy and Antonio and the other drivers get that too, but even they don’t reach the level of intensity Lucia does, and that’s because they don’t have to. They’re men.
