The crowd was on their feet now.I could see them in my peripheral vision, a blur of motion and color as I powered past the grandstands.My throat felt tight, tears threatening behind my visor through each curve.The checkered flag waved in the distance, and I crossed the line with my fist pumping the air.
“P1, Lily!P1!Silverstone winner!Brilliant drive!”
The radio erupted with cheers from the entire team, but I could barely hear them over the pounding of my heart.I did my cool-down lap in a daze, waving to the grandstands, letting the magnitude of it wash over me.
Silverstone.Winner.The two words I’d been chasing my entire career.
And this time, no ride height was going to take this from me.Felix had checked the margins himself.
I parked in the P1 spot, the number-one board waiting for me like a promise finally fulfilled.My hands shook as I disconnected my radio headphones from the steering wheel and hauled myself out of the cockpit.The moment my feet touched the ground, my knees nearly buckled.
The team swarmed me, hands slapping my helmet and my shoulders, voices shouting congratulations.I pulled off my helmet, gulping in the sweet English air, tasting victory on my tongue.
Then I saw him.
Henri was pushing through the crowd, still in his race suit, having apparently abandoned his own post-race obligations to get to me.With his helmet off, his hazel eyes were bright, that devastating smile breaking across his face as he closed the distance between us.
“You absolute maniac,” he said, breathless.“That defense through during lap thirty-two—”
“—was perfectly legal,” I shot back, grinning.
“Was brilliant,” he corrected.
Then his hands were cupping my face, and he was kissing me right there in front of everyone—the cameras, the team, the hundred thousand fans in the grandstands, the millions watching around the world.I melted into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, the rest of the world fading to background noise.
When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine.“Your home win,” he murmured.“You finally got it.”
“Our home,” I corrected softly.“We both live here now, remember?”
His smile widened, and there was no trace of the haunted look that had plagued him a year ago.Therapy had helped.Time had helped.Racing together, supporting each other through the highs and lows, had helped most of all.
“I don’t care how cute you look winning this race, I’m coming for you in Hungary.”
“I’m counting on it,” I replied.
Because that was the beauty of it, wasn’t it?We could love each other fiercely and still race each other harder.Could celebrate each other’s victories and mourn each other’s defeats.Be partners off the track and rivals on it, and somehow, impossibly, that made both parts stronger.
My media officer was frantically waving me toward the cool-down room, where the podium ceremony awaited.I kissed Henri once more, quick and fierce, then pulled away.
“See you up there.”I grinned.
As I jogged toward the cool-down room, my Silverstone win finally secured, the Championship lead building ever so slightly, I couldn’t stop smiling.But the World Driver’s Championship was far from over.The battles with Henri, on track and off, would continue.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
