Peter shields himself from Darien’s pillow with a shriek. With a wave of his arm, Darien mobilizes the army, and soon it’s all of us pelting the veteran driver with hotel pillows until he caves at last. ‘Cowboy romances,’ he yelps. ‘I swear on my mum!’
Smirking mischievously, Darien tosses his pillow aside and bounds right off the bed. He tips an imaginary cowboy hat, meeting my eyes slowly. The tension between us is simmering, at least until he cracks a smile, and the silliness of it all takes over. ‘Howdy, pardner,’ he says in the world’sworstSouthern accent.
‘Stop it,’ I laugh, and he flops so hard onto the mattress next to me that my entire body is off the bed for a split second. Both of us giggle uncontrollably, and I try to stifle my hiccups in his shoulder, laughing so hard my stomach hurts, and it’s as if noone else is in the room, both of us caught up in our own bubble of stupidity. Somewhere in the distance, Diana croons a loving ‘Awww,’ and Henri pretends to gag, but it doesn’t register for us. When I’m with Darien, nothing else registers; only a part of my heart that I thought had been closed off for ever last year.
This time, the weightlessness lasts much longer than a mere moment.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Darien
For what might be the first time in history, I get up with the sun the day after a race. It’s a bright Monday morning in Imola, and I kind of want to sleep in for another hour, but the sun is too startling for that. I hurdle over Henri’s legs and pad over to the coffee machine in the kitchen to get myself caffeine. I check the clock – it’s seven a.m., but there’s no going back once I have coffee in my system.
Once I’ve brewed my cup, I head out to the balcony, where Shantal and her iced coffee have already beaten me to the punch. She leans against the rail and sips from her straw, the light breeze tousling the curls peeking out from her two low buns of hair.
‘Morning,’ she hums around a gulp of coffee.
‘Morning,’ I reply with a yawn. ‘What a weekend.’
She nods, tracing a smiley face in the condensation of her glass, and looks up at me with a twinkle in her eye. ‘You did it. Proved everyone wrong. Came back with a win.’
‘I …’ I shake my head with a small chuckle. ‘I don’t think I could’ve done it without this team, though. Without you.’
‘Me?’ Shantal tilts her head as if trying to scope out what’s gotten into me. ‘I didn’t do all that much.’
‘Shantal, when I was in the car …’ I set my mug down on the flat railing, purse my lips as I prepare to recount what was one of the freakiest moments I’ve ever experienced on a track. ‘I couldfeelmy arm starting to give out. Like, I was coming up on Alex, I think, to overtake him, and everything was just falling apart. Couldn’t feel my hand for a minute. I lost focus, man. It would’ve been a mess for me if …’ I almost roll my eyes at myself, at how weird and tacky I probably sound. ‘I thought of you, Shantal, I thought of you in the garage, and I don’t know … you brought my strength back.’
‘You thought of me?’ she echoes. Her eyes widen like she can’t believe the things I’m saying.
‘Yeah, I … yeah. And when you were there with that flag, Shantal, it …’ I can’t do much other than let out a sigh, try to find the right words. ‘I can’t even tell you how it felt.’
She places her glass next to mine, and she gazes up at me with those big eyes of hers. ‘How did it feel?’ she whispers.
‘When you win a race once, you just … you wanna keep winning more. It’s an addiction.’ It must be the way she’s looking at me that prompts the admission to come on so easily. ‘But when I saw you holding the flag, it wasn’t just an addiction, Shantal. I wanted to be there for ever, park my car in front of you and … and see youhappy. You make winning more than an addiction for me. You make me want to turn it into a habit, just so I can see you smile like that.’
‘Like what?’ Shantal’s voice is so quiet it’s almost as if she’s mouthing words, and I have to concentrate on every movement of her lips.
‘Like someone’s finally given you those damn flowers you deserve.’
She laughs, and this sound isn’t quiet at all. It echoes over the balcony. It’s so beautiful that a part of me hopes it echoes all through Imola, so everyone can hear the same melody I do. It’s in that moment that I realize I’ve finally, possibly, done it. I’ve made her forget, even just for a second. I commit every note of that laugh to memory.
‘Do you remember …’ She takes a tentative step closer to me, one that doesn’t escape my notice, because my heart is thundering in my chest. ‘Before Henri came and told us Cristo Montalto was losing his mind, before that, you said something. About how you should focus on the Championship, and this stress we are under to make this season perfect. Except you can’t focus.’
I think back to the moment with a guilty smile. ‘Yeah, that Cristo thing didn’t help. That wasn’t my smoothest of moves.’
‘Oh, my god.’ I think Shantal actually holds back a laugh. ‘Well, the thing is … I’ve triedsohard to focus. So hard. And yet I end up here. Completely and utterly distracted by you.’
‘By me?’
Now it’s my turn to go wide-eyed and pleading andwow.
Distracted by you.
This is definitely happening.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Shantal
