Flat out, p.9
Flat Out, page 9
By the time the parade ends, and Skyland and I make it back to our Amato Racing garage to suit up for the race, I’m mentally ready for the next two hours. And for the first time in a race ever, I slip my hand into the right pocket of my suit, feeling the picture that I now keep there.
It’s the ultrasound image Dr. Slosher gave me after our first visit.
“How’re you feeling?” Annalise comes up behind me.
“Flat out,” I reply, to which my sister frowns.
“Strategy,” she replies.
“That too. But I’m winning this race,” I tell her. “Did you take care of everything?” I ask, changing the subject.
“This is what you want to talk about before your first race?”
“Did you?” I ask.
“Of course.” She sighs. “Éléanor’s confirmed that your mystery woman has accepted the position.”
“And the apartment?”
“The movers have already readied the apartment. Now do you want to tell me why you made the huge decision to move out of your apartment, which you love, so this mystery woman can move in?”
I’ve played things close to the vest over the past couple of weeks. Not out of shame, but because I didn’t want to put any more pressure on Alyssia. Once I tell my family about the baby, I know they’ll be all in.
Alyssia, on the other hand, is a different story. Thinking back on how much of a protest she put up when I talked about moving to Monaco, makes tension roll through my shoulders. She’s so damn adamant about not taking what I offer, I’m still pissed about the way she hung up on me when I told her I paid her rent for the next two months.
Pissed, but my lips twitch thinking about it.
Fine, I might be amused by it but it’s still frustrating. She should at least understand that being closer to me, allowing me to provide for her and the baby financially is what’s best.
I shove my hands into the arms of my racing suit and zip it all of the way up, not answering my sister.
“Hey?” She shoves at my shoulder. “I’m speaking to you. You’ve never done any of this for a woman before.” She snorts.
“And never in the two years I’ve worked for you, have you ever asked me to run any sort of interference for you when it comes to a woman.”
I glance down at her.
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
“There is,” I finally say after a beat of silence. I pull the ultrasound picture that I’ve carried around with me every day since it was taken out and show it to my sister. “I’m going to be a father.”
“Holy shit!” she shouts, but then flinches as she looks over her shoulder at the gazes she’s drawn from the rest of my team.
“Are you serious? Wait, you joke about a lot, but you’d never joke about something like this.” Ana’s having a conversation with herself at this point.
“What the fuck, Trav?”
“It’s a long story.”
“You think?”
She stares at the ultrasound pics again. “You haven’t told Mom and Dad yet, right? And I know you haven’t said anything to Tristan or Chloe yet. They’re gonna flip out,” she says of our third and younger sister.
“I can’t believe you. How old is this picture? When did you find out? Who is this woman? You—”
“Have a race to win,” I interject.
She pinches her lips together, probably biting back the demand for a deeper explanation.
“I’ll explain everything once I win.” I take the ultrasound photo from her and carefully place it back inside my pocket.
I hold up my hand for our special pre-race high-five. We clap hands then connect elbows, turning our forearms until our palms meet that bottom, high-fiving again.
“Go kick ass,” she encourages, slapping me on the back as I pass.
“Will do.”
Minutes later, I slide my helmet over my head and climb into my bright red rocket on four wheels.
“Let’s do this,” I murmur to the car while running my hand along the steering wheel.
“Fuck yeah!” I yell into the intercom after my first-place finish.
I raise my fist and salute my team who all hang out of the fence that separates our staff from the racetrack.
“Well done, Travis,” my team principal tells me.
For a little extra, once all of the drivers have completed the race, I do a donut in my car to the roar of the crowd, before pulling into my team’s garage.
I greet their cheers and high fives with high fives of my own.
The next hour passes in a blur of post-race interviews, a celebration with champagne on the Grand Prix stage, and me lifting my new trophy above my head.
There are some reporters who ask about last year’s loss and if today’s win feels like redemption. I ignore those questions.
They’re trying to get me to say something that’ll feed their next headline. It’s too early in the season to dredge up bullshit.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” Ferreira’s voice comes in behind me as I enter the main paddock area.
“Keep your congratulations,” I tell him. “You’ll need all of the good words you can get if you dream of ever getting a podium this season.”
His grin drops to a frown.
He and I both know he has a shitty car this year. His team, Krämer, a luxury car brand, may have an esteemed history in F1 but they’ve been shit over the past decade.
“Max!” someone shouts, catching his attention. It’s another person from his entourage. “Excellent job as usual!”
I roll my eyes right before I’m tackled from behind by Annalise.
“Amazing,” she says, making me chuckle.
“Did you have any doubts?”
“Not one. Tristan, on the other hand …” She waves her cell phone.
I take it from her and grin at the message from our third. He often gets up in the middle of the night to watch the ending of my races.
“Thank you for not wasting my missed sleep with a loss,” he says. “He’s such an ass.”
“Hey.” Annalise snatches her phone out of my hands. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”
“I’m your favorite,” I remind her.
“I don’t have favorites,” she retorts.
“If you say so.” I go to noogie her, but she slaps my hand away.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Language, sis.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.” She nods toward the table. “Grab your stuff so we can head out. Your workday isn’t over yet. I’m going to run to the bathroom.”
I go to retrieve my belongings, but as I lift the clothing I wore earlier, a piece of paper slips out, falling to the floor.
I unfold the paper thinking Annalise must’ve written something down for me to see. It’s not her handwriting.
Nice win today. Hope your season doesn’t end like last year.
I stiffen as something ugly and dark rolls down my spine. The ending of last year’s season comes back full force, squeezing the air out of my lungs.
Red, the color of my car, flashes in front of me.
One look around the room and my eyes land on Max who’s in the corner chuckling with two other guys.
“What the fuck is this?” I ask, getting in between him and the other guys.
A stunned look passes over his expression before his eyes narrow in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.
“Bullshit.” I hold up the note. “You want to threaten me with subtle digs?”
I hold the note out of his reach when he tries to grab it. He looks between the note and me.
“What is that?”
“Pathetic liar,” I throw back at him.
Max’s face contorts into a mask of anger and bitterness.
“You and I both know what a sore fucking loser you are.”
His face hardens for only a moment. “You don’t know a bloody thing about me!”
“How about we all calm down, huh?” a guy from his group asks.
I glare at him but turn back to Max.
“I didn’t send you anything,” he tells me, a serious expression on his face.
“What’s going on?” Annalise’s voice breaks up the tension.
“Nothing,” I reply. “Let’s go.” I snatch the rest of my belongings from the table and storm out of the room, Annalise trailing behind.
No matter what, nothing is getting in my way this season.
CHAPTER 14
Alyssia
“As you can see, the living room is expansive with a beautiful view of the marina,” Isabelle, the real estate agent hired by my new employer, explains as she holds her arms out in the entryway of my new apartment.
Life has moved fast in the three weeks since my interview. Once I told Éléanor and the organization that I would take the position, it’s been non-stop.
My new employer was gracious enough to hire a moving company that practically ensured I didn’t have to lift a finger, even when it came to all of the paperwork for my work visas.
Now, I’m working hard to keep my jaw off of the floor as I look around the absurdly spacious luxury apartment Isabelle shows me.
From the entryway, we enter into a living room that could host a party of twenty people, comfortably. The hardwood floors lead to a plush cream couch in the living room, which extends the length of the wall, curving to make room for the floor-to-ceiling window.
There are at least a dozen pillows lined along the couch.
The mirrored coffee table sits on top of a white carpet and brings the look of the living room together.
Nothing comes close to comparing to the view from the sliding glass doors. Beyond the view of the palm trees and tropical plants, stone buildings, and winding stretch of road, is the sea as far as the eye can see. A breathtaking sight of cerulean water flows until it turns azure and kisses sky in the distance.
The view is incredibly … romantic.
I shake my head of that thought and turn to stare at Isabelle.
“Are you sure this is right?”
Isabelle’s face contorts into an expression of confusion. “If this is too small, there is an apartment—”
“Too small? You’re kidding, right?”
More pinched brows of bewilderment.
“There’s no way the Jacqueline Reed Foundation can pay for this and my salary.”
“The Jacqueline Reed … they are not—” She’s cut off by a knock on the door, leaving me to guess at what she was about to say.
“Annalise,” Isabelle greets the woman standing at the door.
I know that name.
“Hey, Isabelle, sorry I’m late,” the second woman greets.
When Isabelle steps aside, I come face to face with a woman about my same height at five-seven, light brown almost bronze skin, freckles, and dazzling red hair.
“I can take it from here. Thank you for everything,” she tells Isabelle.
I squint as the pieces of this puzzle start to come together.
“Hello, welcome.” Annalise turns to me, a reserved smile playing on her lips. “I’m—”
“Travis’ sister,” I reply. I shake the hand she offers. “And assistant.”
“My reputation precedes me.” She nods toward the living room. “I’ve come to relieve Isabelle. Well, honestly, I would’ve been here earlier, but I had a few calls I needed to take on behalf of Travis.”
“I bet,” I mumble.
She frowns.
“Then this whole thing,” I wave my hand around, gesturing to the apartment, “is because of your brother?”
Annalise pauses, giving me an assessing once over, before pushing out a heavy breath. “He didn’t tell you?”
I let out a laugh that lacks humor. “I should’ve known.”
I turn to the stare out of the sliding glass doors at the glorious view. However, I don’t see the palm trees, stone buildings, or the windy road that crawls around the entirety of the country.
What I see before me are flashbacks from New York when Travis had casually insisted that I move to Monaco, like it was a move from one city block to another. After I told him that would not be happening, he got deceptively quiet.
“Has he been planning this for a month?” I ask at the same time I recall him mentioning the OB-GYNs that he’d found here in Monaco.
Annalise doesn’t say anything, at first, as she comes up to stand beside me.
“What I’m gathering from the annoyance in your voice is that he never mentioned this is his apartment,” she confirms my suspicions.
I pivot to her.
“I’m not living here.”
There’s no way I can live in this man’s luxurious apartment.
“Does he really expect me just to move in with him? We’re practically strangers.” The words feel foolish coming out of my mouth.
Travis and I aren’t strangers, not anymore. That was destroyed the moment we sat in Dr. Slosher’s office and he held my hand as we listened to our baby’s heartbeat.
Still, we’re not a couple or in any sort of relationship beyond the concerns of our child.
“Is that what you think?”
The question surprises me.
Not so much the question itself but the fact that it’s in response to a comment I hadn’t meant to say out loud.
When my eyes meet Annalise’s again, I can’t help but to think, for a split second, that I’m staring into Travis’ eyes. His sister’s eyes are hazel whereas his are seafoam but there’s an unmistakable similarity. Something inside of my chest shifts, and I suddenly wish that it was Travis standing here in front of me, not his sister.
“Travis’ flight from China was delayed,” she tells me. “He wanted to be here, but doubted he’d make it in time, which is why he had me stay back for this race.”
Though she doesn’t speak fast, it still takes my brain time to catch up.
Travis’ second race of the season was in Shanghai this past weekend. We’ve talked a few times and texted frequently as I updated him on my move. As soon as I got the job offer from Éléanor, I told him about it and that the job would require a move to Monaco.
He’d been happy but not once did he cop to the fact that he’d gotten me the job in the first place. Nor did he tell me that the apartment I thought the company was renting for me was, in fact, his apartment.
“I’m not doing this,” I say.
“If this place isn’t big enough for you—”
“Why does everyone keep thinking I’m referring to size?”
“He said you don’t like tight, confined spaces,” Annalise easily answers.
I blink, and blink again.
“He’s right, but that’s not the point,” I say more defensively than I want. “It’s not about the size.”
“If you don’t like the view, we can fix that. My place isn’t too far from here, but it’s not directly on the street. It does tend to get loud and crowded here during race weekend.”
“Race weekend?” I ask.
“The Monaco Grand Prix,” she answers. “Race weekend is huge here. Most Monegasques actually leave that weekend because the influx of visitors and tourists becomes overwhelming.”
She gestures toward the glass door.
“You know, because the country’s not that big.”
I’ve only heard about half of what she’s said since she mentioned the race. I look out and down at the road that creeps like a snake around the front of the building. The main road that traverses the entirety of the country. A lump forms in my throat when I think about the twists and turns.
“Travis races on that?” I don’t know where the question comes from.
“You mean the street?” She nods. “Monaco’s the only country where the drivers race around an entire country in an afternoon. Pretty cool, huh?” Excited sparks in her hazel irises.
I’ve done my best to steer clear of finding out about the world of motorsport. But the idea of racing at ridiculously high speeds on that twisty road fills the pit of my stomach with nausea.
“I can’t live here,” I say, my voice barely audible. I repeat myself, this time more forceful.
“There are a few other options. My parents actually have a place here, too. They come often to visit us both and to stay for the European races. I don’t think they would have a problem with switching places.”
Again, it takes a while to process her words.
“No,” I say quickly. “I am not staying in any apartment that Travis or his family owns.” I hold up my hand, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded.”
Annalise folds her arms and observes me.
“What I meant to say that Travis should’ve spoken to me before he up and decided where I was going to live. That wasn’t his choice to make.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’ll find my own place.”
CHAPTER 15
Alyssia
“Hey, baby girl,” my Uncle Theo answers.
The sound of his deep voice comforts me in ways that I didn’t know I needed, as I pace my hotel room.
“I’m glad we finally got ahold of you. How’re you doing?”
My lips spread into a small smile. We’ve been playing phone tag for the past couple of weeks between the move and everything else.
Uncle Theo is my mother’s older brother. After my parents and grandmother died, he retired from a twenty-five-year career in the Army.
“I’m well … How’s Uncle Owen, first? Are you two still enjoying your life at sea?”
There’s some crackling on the line. I pull my cell from my ear.
“Uncle Theo? Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m still here, baby girl. We’re docking today in Cozúmel.”
“You two love Mexico.”
Uncle Theo and his husband, Uncle Owen, both retired from the military and married not long after they took me in. A year and a half ago they both made the decision to rent out their home and spend most of the year living on cruise ships.
