“First of all, Luke didn’t say it,” I inform him and I sound unreasonably annoyed at his misquote, I know. Really, it’s the way this team ignores Gabriel that annoys me. “Princess Leia Organa says it about Obi-Wan Kenobi. In a hologram message.”
Gabriel's eyes dance with bottled-up laughter. "I didn't realize I committed to aStar Warsnerd.”
“You didn’t. It’s basic common knowledge,” I say and shake my head. “Whatever. It’s also irrelevant. This is a big deal, you’re fucking fifth. More than just that guy should be here to congratulate you.”
“That guy is Adam,” Gabriel explains and Adam waves when he hears his name. “He’s the lead mechanic on my car so he doesn’t have a choice. And the humbling truth of my seat here at Mayflower is that they only gave it to me because my father invested. No one expects me to win and no one is going to bother patting me on the back. If they could get rid of me, they would.”
“But you’re doing well,” I argue as we walk out of the garage together. He’s sucking on a water bottle and I’m really glad the sun has dipped low in the horizon, behind the towering buildings of the strip, because if I could clearly see his full mouth wrap around that bottle I would get hard. “I’ve watched rookie drivers go a whole season without placing in the top ten. You almost scored points.”
“Almost is didn’t. They’re the same thing,” Gabriel says. He stops just short of the press tent. All the other drivers are already there. His dad stayed back in the garage so it’s just the two of us. “I appreciate your indignant wife routine here, and that you’ve got my back, but I knew what I was signing up for when I got my seat this way. The thing with the assistant, and the paternity suit earlier, none of that helped. But I wasn’t going to be respected even if those things hadn’t happened. It’s fine. I am not crying myself to sleep at night. You can stay over tonight and make sure.”
He winks at me before walking off to do his interviews.
I sigh and watch him go and then make my way back to the parking lot. I’ll meet him at the hotel. My phone buzzes again and I whip it out. The name Cordy illuminates my screen.
“Do not freak out,” I say flatly instead of hello.
"You are fucking married?" Cordelia screeches so loudly that I think she may have perforated my eardrum. I immediately move the phone a few inches from my ear. "Married! To your boss's son? What the ever-loving hell Axel Hemming!"
“Okay well, don’t believe everything you read,” I tell her, holding the phone with just the microphone by my mouth so if she starts yelling again my eardrums aren’t in danger.
What’s left of the sun has streaked the sky gold and pink, and the warm, acrid air swirls around me with hints of oil and gasoline and burned rubber. It’s not actually all that unpleasant. It feels a bit like home because it reminds me of Gabe. I touch my thumb to the band again and interrupt Cordy as she calls me every synonym for stupid that she can think of.
“Relax, okay? Will you just shut up and listen to me?” I bark and she finally gets silent. “I didn’t marry him. We were drunk and we had a commitment ceremony. It was a lark. And funny. And not that big a deal.”
“So why are there photos of you all over Instagram at the Qualifying wearing a fucking wedding band, Axe?” Cordy demands. “And why is an F1 blog reporting that Gabriel is going to be fined for not taking off his wedding ring before going out in the car?”
“How much is the fine?” I ask.
“Why? You gonna pay it for him?” Cordy snaps. “This guy going to swindle you too, like the last one?”
Ouch. Well, that was definitely below the belt.
I stop walking. The pavement under my feet is so warm it feels sticky. I can see waves of heat rising up all over the parking lot. I want nothing more than to be in an air-conditioned hotel room, lying naked on the bed, waiting for Gabe, but I'm also kind of sick of my sister's judgment. "You know what, Cordy, that was a fucking asshole thing to say."
She huffs out a frustrated breath and it takes her a minute but she finally says something. “I’m sorry, okay? I just… I worry about you. You let that asshole Eric take more from you than he ever gave you. I never understood why. And I just… I mean, I want you to get back on your feet. I’m trying to help you by selling your loft. And in my humble opinion, you need to take a break from dating after the train wreck that was half a decade with Eric. Not marry your billionaire boss’s son. Does Louis Allard know?”
“Yes.”
“How is this going to affect your career trajectory?” she demands. “I mean, if you hurt Gabriel, Louis will fire you. I guarantee it. The world knows he lives for his kid. And if Gabriel gets bored of you… he can have you fired. Daddy does whatever he wants.”
“It’s not as bad as it seems,” I reply because looking back over what I’ve seen with Gabriel and Louis, yeah, it’s sort of how Cordy sees it. But there’s more to it. There’s an actual respect and partnership between the father and son. Louis is more like Gabriel’s manager. And I don’t think he would pick his own dad to be so up in his business but he wants to be the good son. “And you know, this thing with Gabriel… Louis is on board. Will he always be? Probably not. But I also have seen enough of both him and Gabriel to know that they’ll handle whatever happens next with professionalism and respect.”
“What are you not telling me, big brother?” Cordy asks sharply.
“Can you just trust me?”
“I trust you. I don’t trust your judgment though.”
Another punch, this time to my ego. Nice sis. “You’ve made mistakes too, Cordy. Remember that kid who worked at the surf shop? The one who played you all summer long until you brought him to the family barbeque and he spontaneously started auditioning for Dad over the potato salad? Or what about your date for the Oscars that one year. The one who wanted to shag Mom?”
“Oh fuck, Axe,” she snaps. “First of all Cordy dated those losers, and this is Delia you’re talking to.”
“Must be nice to have a split personality.”
“Ha!” she barks out loudly. “And second of all, Axel, I dumped both those idiots on the spot. Erased their numbers, blocked them on socials, and I would have burned their houses to the ground if someone had given me a match. You, on the other hand, took Eric back every single time he did something to hurt or gaslight you. Every fucking time for six years. So I am very sorry if I’m worried about this new boyfriend-slash-commitment ceremony partner. I’m not convinced you’ve learned from your mistakes.”
“I have.”
