Flat out, p.11
Flat Out, page 11
“You couldn’t have said what I think you did,” my brother continues as if I’ve said nothing.
I roll my eyes at his dramatics.
“I haven’t even finished my Ph.D. yet. How the fuck can you make me an uncle?”
“Are you done?” I ask him, sighing.
“No. Hang up. This needs to be a video call.”
Before I can reply, he’s ended his side of the call. Snickering from Annalise’s end of the line fills my eardrum.
“You do remember that you don’t live that far from me, right? I can be over in less than ten minutes to kick your ass.”
“Try it,” she challenges. “Did you forget I have a three day a week standing kickboxing class? Plus, I’m calling Mom and telling her that you’re threatening me again. You know I’m her favorite.”
“Bullshit. Chloe’s her favorite,” I say of our youngest sister.
“Because she still lives at home. Once Mom hears my voice again, she’ll remember who her favorite is.”
“Anyway, I should hang up and get ready for this video call and watch Tristan lose his shit. I love it when he gets all red—”
Her last word is cut off by Tristan calling with a video request.
Seconds later, I’m staring into the screen at the two faces I know as well as my own.
“Now say it again and this time slower, because I’m certain you blundered whatever you were trying to tell me.”
“Brother, you have excellent hearing. It wasn’t a mistake. Water didn’t get inside of your ears. I’m going to be a father.”
“Of what?”
My shoulders sink, and I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
“Okay, brother mine,” Annalise starts. “What our sweet, never met a corner he couldn’t conquer, handles the straightaways like they’re his bitch, race car loving third is trying to tell you is, buckle up because you are about to be an uncle.”
“I don’t even like babies.”
“This isn’t about you,” I tell him. “Besides, you’ll like my kid. Or I’ll beat your ass.”
Tristan snorts.
“How is this possible? You don’t even have a girlfriend.”
“Did Mom and Dad not have the birds and bees talk with you?” Annalise asks, and then without stopping, continues, “Apparently, while he was alone in Las Vegas … well, he wasn’t quite alone.”
“So some random bro—”
“She’s not random,” I snap.
Out of all of my siblings, I figured Tristan would be the one I needed to be the most patient with breaking the news to, but calling Alyssia random is as far as I’ll let him push me.
“She’s not? And what’s her name?”
“Alyssia.”
His eyes roll upward as if he’s taking it in, considering it.
“Nice name. Is she pretty?”
“Stunning.”
“She’s gorgeous.”
Annalise and I say at the same time.
We both look at our sister. “What? She is. You got lucky there, bro. She also isn’t about to let him walk all over her. Tell Trist how you moved out of your apartment just for her to turn you down.”
I growl. “She didn’t turn me down.”
“Didn’t she? Where is she living now?”
My stomach twists at the thought of Alyssia stubbornly moving into her own apartment in the South of France instead of in my building like I’d chosen for her.
“There’s been a misunderstanding … on her part,” I add.
Annalise chuckles. “No, you misunderstood that a woman who’s capable enough to have her own career and life in New York City wouldn’t be so willing to do as you say and lose her independence totally just because you knocked her up.”
A pensive pinch forms between her brows.
“Gotta say, I like her,” my sister concludes.
“So wait, you moved her to your place?” Tristan asks.
“He tried.” Annalise snorts.
I grind my teeth, glaring at my sister who only matches my stare before I explain the situation to Tristan.
“Now she’s living in France?”
“And commuting to work.” I grunt.
He clucks his teeth as he shakes his head, a disappointed look overcoming his face. My stomach drops.
“It’s only temporary,” I say without thinking. “She’s moving into my apartment. I …” I pause without finishing the I want her close to me.
I’m unsure of how to process that thought, especially as the truth of it vibrates through me.
“And you kept this from me?” Tristan asks Annalise.
“What? Like it’s hard?”
Tristan and I both frown.
“Are you …”
“She’s doing it again,” I say.
“Anna, do not start that bullshit,” Tristan warns.
Annalise has a tendency to cite lines from her favorite early-2000s films.
“So, what you’re saying is I should stop trying to make fetch happen?”
“I’m going to strangle—”
“I’ve already warned Travis about threatening me.”
“Have you spoken to Mom and Dad yet?” Tristan pivots the conversation back to me.
“Calling them as soon as I hang up with you pains in the ass.”
“I’m sure Mom will respond better than this one did.” Annalise motions her head in Tristan’s direction. “Because, you know, she’s not like an ordinary mom, she’s a cool mo–”
“Goodbye.”
I disconnect the call with a shake of my head, before I dial my dad’s number. It’s almost ten at night here in Monaco, which means it’s early evening back home in Williamsport.
Both of my parents are usually finished working by late afternoon.
“Hey, Travis.” My dad’s warm voice puts a smile on my face.
“Hi, Dad. Are you and Mom busy?”
“Never too busy for any of you. Your mom just got off of a work call.”
I snort. “You know this because you were watching her, weren’t you?”
A deep chuckle pushes through the phone. I used to think it was weird the way my father could never keep his eyes off of my mother. Whenever she worked from home, she would leave her office door slightly opened because she knew our dad enjoyed watching her in business mode.
Lately, though, with the amount of time my thoughts continue to stray to Alyssia, I’m beginning to understand it. However, knowing she’s moved into an apartment decidedly not in my building tempers every thought of her with frustration.
My mother’s voice on the other end of the phone brings me out of my straying thoughts.
“Hey, Mom, I need to talk to you and Dad. Can we do a video call, actually?”
A minute later my phone beeps with my father’s incoming request for a video call.
“That’s better,” I say once both of their faces fill the screen. They’re sitting in my dad’s office, my mom on his lap, which isn’t unusual.
Not only can’t he keep his eyes off of her, but his hands as well.
“Is something wrong?” There’s a pinch between my mother’s eyebrows.
“Did you get hurt?” The concern is echoed again in my dad’s voice.
“No. I’m good.”
“If I need to get on a plane, just say the word,” my mom starts. “I don’t like the way Rosenberg clipped you in the last race.” Her face scrunches up.
“He saw you had the overtake and tried to play dirty,” she gripes.
“It was an accident,” I tell her, trying to hide my chuckle. My mom’s always been protective over me. Over all four of us, to be honest. She’s the first one to bitch out anyone she thinks may be a threat to us.
I can’t count how many of my fellow drivers, coaches, and a couple of team principals she’s threatened to take on for accidents or near misses in a race.
“And you’re defending him,” she tuts.
“It’s poor sportsmanship to talk shit about your fellow drivers, Precious,” Dad says, using his favorite pet name for my mom.
Mom waves him off. “You would say that. It’s your fault my baby is a race driver now. I told you about buying all of those toy cars and taking him go-karting when he was just six years old. Now look.”
“Yeah, he’s only one of the best drivers in the world.”
Mom smiles at that but it’s my heart that sinks. I haven’t proven myself as one of the best. Not yet.
I clear my throat, drawing their attention. “Can we get back to my point of this call, please?”
They both sit up straighter. “It’s not just so we can see your handsome face?” Mom asks.
“I’m going to be a father,” I tell them without drawing it out.
There’s silence as my parents look from me to one another and back to me.
“Say that again,” my dad finally says.
“You heard that right. My, uh …” Shit! What do I even call Alyssia?
“I met someone.”
“Obviously,” my mom says.
“One thing led to another. She’s due around the end of summer.”
I watch as the gears in my mother’s mind work. “That’s five months away. You’ve known for four months already and you’re just telling us?” she shrieks.
Without giving every detail, I explain to my parents that Alyssia and I only recently reconnected which is when I found out.
“Then she’s living in your apartment now?” Dad asks.
“Not quite,” I gripe. I tell them how Alyssia basically rejected my place to opt for getting her own.
“Good for her,” Mom says, surprising me.
“How is that a good thing? She—”
“Is choosing to keep her independence. From what you’ve shared with us, you two don’t know one another that well.”
“It’s not like it takes long to fall in love,” Dad cuts in, giving my mom a look.
Since I was a child, I’ve been privy to the fact that my dad basically fell for my mom at first sight. She took some convincing given that she was leery of professional athletes, but obviously, came around.
“She’s not even giving me a chance,” I reply to my mom.
“Not giving you a chance would’ve been her moving back to New York after finding out that you got her the job and apartment,” she counters.
“Still,” I gripe, not liking that my mom is right.
“What do you want?” my dad asks.
To take care of her.
The answer arises as soon as he asks the question. My mind goes back to that night in Vegas, the panicked expression on Alyssia’s face in that elevator. I was met with the same look in her eyes that night at the gala when she told me she needed to get to the hospital.
Never have I had the urge to take care of anyone else.
That’s why I was so damn eager to get her to move closer. Once I found out she wouldn’t do so willingly, getting her the job made the most sense to take care of her without her directly knowing it.
“You’re also in the prime of your career,” Dad says, bringing my attention back to our conversation.
“Yeah?”
He lifts his eyebrows as if I should know what he’s referring to. “Which means your attention will be divided. Have you considered that?”
“And your job is particularly grueling,” Mom adds in. “With your season being so long and you literally flying all over the world for races.”
“What are you two saying?” I ask defensively.
“We’re not saying anything. We’re merely asking if you’ve considered how having a child and potential relationship is going to complicate your life?” Mom says. “Up until now, racing has been your number one priority.”
“I’ve always been able to maintain the most important relationships in my life,” I counter.
“That’s because we’ve made concessions to be there for you, Trav,” Dad says.
“And we’ve always been happy to do it,” my mom quickly adds.
“Absolutely,” my father agrees. “Hell, your sister even decided to work as your assistant.”
I press my lips firmly together. Annalise is literally my right hand when it comes to everything off of the track. Norm might be my agent, but Annalise is who I often bounce ideas off of when it comes to life outside of racing.
She’s knowledgeable enough to be a sports agent herself, but she’s never shown interest in it.
“What we’re getting at is that you take some time to consider how much time you have to these new roles you’re taking on in your life,” Mom says. “We’ll always be there for you and our grandbaby, and by extension, their mother. You know that.”
Her words should bring me a sense of comfort.
They don’t.
Is this how Alyssia feels? Are they right? Just weeks ago, I was telling a crowd of people that my entire focus in life was winning a championship. That’s all I want—wanted.
But a flashback of Alyssia’s face passes through my mind and that urge to take care of her overcomes me again. It edges on crowding out the fire that’s always burned inside of me to win.
CHAPTER 18
Alyssia
I struggle to stuff my gratitude notebook into my leather shoulder handbag. In the confusion and bustle of all of the rest of the passengers stepping off of the metro, I’m unable to fully snap the second flap but it’s not a big deal.
Today’s my first day at the office and I’ve taken an early train in to give myself time to walk around a little before arriving.
While I’m considering which shop to stop in to grab a cup of tea, I feel a presence come up beside me. For a second, I clutch my purse tighter to my side.
“You’re early.”
My shoulders lose their tension from the sound of Travis’ voice.
His smile is easy, and I have to make myself not stare at his lips.
“Sorry, I hope I didn’t scare you,” he apologizes, but the smile still plays at the corners of his mouth.
I glance around the metro station full of people commuting into Monte-Carlo. “Were you waiting for me?”
“It’s your first day and this metro station can be confusing.” He waves a hand around.
This subway and train station is kind of notorious for turning people around, especially those not used to public transportation.
“I made it fine,” I say instead of indulging in the softness that tries to overtake the center of my chest.
“I see.” He extends an arm holding a coffee cup. “Lemon-ginger tea,” he informs me. “There are some conflicting reports on whether caffeine is actually safe during pregnancy. Limited amounts seem to be okay, but well, considering, I thought tea would be better over coffee.” He shrugs. “Also, you had lemon-ginger tea at your place in New York.”
“You remember that?”
His eyes sparkle with something I can’t put into words.
“Thank you,” I say just above a whisper while taking the hot cup of tea from him.
“I’ve got honey, too. The fake sugar isn’t good for you.”
A part of me—the part that loathes being taken for weak or needy—wants to tell him that I’m damn capable of deciding what type of sweetener I can put in my drink.
The other, wiser part of me, takes the damn honey because it’s my sweetener of choice.
“You’re early,” he says as we stride toward the exit. “Thought I had at least another twenty or thirty minutes before you arrived.”
I grin into my cup of tea, for whatever reason. “Why’d you get here so early?” Then I wince because the question sounds bratty coming out of my mouth.
“I mean—”
His chuckle cuts me off. A lump forms in my throat when he slips a hand behind my back to guide me around a couple of commuters and toward the exit.
“I arrived early because you seem like the type who’d come in early.”
“I’m not the only one who likes to show up early,” I counter.
He nods. “You’re not wrong. I have …” He trails off when his phone begins ringing. After pulling it out of his pocket, he quickly sends the caller to voicemail.
I didn’t have time to see the name, but for a second I wonder if it’s another woman calling him. It’s not like Travis and I have an established relationship or anything. And he’s a good-looking guy.
“What was that about?”
I hadn’t even noticed I’d snorted until he points it out.
“Nothing. I’m going this way.” I point toward the opposite street from where he’s still guiding me with a hand at my back. “I want to walk past the marina,” I tell him when he gives me a confused expression.
“Perfect time of day for a walk over there,” he says. “In the afternoons it gets pretty busy. Especially now that the weather’s starting to turn.”
He glances up as if taking in the sun that sits high in the blazing blue sky. My eyes land on his profile, dropping down to his Adam’s apple that bobs up and down. For reasons I can’t quite name, my mouth starts to water.
I take another sip of my tea. That doesn’t quite quench the sudden thirst that’s overtaken me but it’s all I’ve got for now.
“You should see this place during the summers. Obviously, race weekend it’s insane.”
I bristle at the mention of the race, but my eyes dart out, examining the street we’re walking down.
“Are all of the streets in Monaco so windy?” I ask.
“The main one is.”
“And that’s the street you race on, right?” I already know the answer, but I ask in hopes that the answer will be different.
“One of the most challenging tracks of the season,” he says, something like enthusiasm infusing itself into his voice. “Which is what makes it one of the most exciting.”
My heartbeat begins picking up and dark memories start to press against the invisible, mental wall I’ve trapped them behind. It’s been a long time since the panic of those memories has consumed me and I aim to keep it that way.
“Do you like the beach?” Travis suddenly asks right as we come up to the marina.
He’s right, there’s not a ton of people around, though it’s not deserted or anything. It makes the stroll enjoyable.
