“And you’re studying accounting? How interesting.” His dad shoots me a weak smile.
I grimace. “About as interesting as talking about it.”
They both laugh at my half joke, half truth.
His mom shows me a genuine smile. “We hear you like art. Any plans with pursuing that on the side?”
“To be honest, I recently got back into painting and drawing. Thanks to Liam, actually.”
“Our son has a soft heart and can be thoughtful, even though that’s not what the media says about him. He wants the best for people despite his poor executions lately,” his dad chimes in.
“Bad decisions are expected in a sport where racers make a living off rash choices. We can’t fault him for the habit spilling over into the rest of his life,” his mother adds.
Kind of like an impulsive decision of sleeping together despite how it’ll ruin our friendship? Sounds about right.
Our conversation continues until sportscasters announce the start of the race. We all watch together inside of the garage, the kids going crazy as Liam speeds around the track. Their screams bounce off the pit walls. His car zooms across the pavement, a blur of gray and black as he holds on to his second-place position.
A home race tends to be a big deal. German fans come in droves, decked out in McCoy gear, flags, and posters with Liam’s name on them. Liam has a lot of pressure to perform well, and he does so, holding on to his second-place position throughout the first ten laps. His car inches up on Noah’s and leaves little room for error. Screeching tires ring through the overhead televisions as cars run down the straights, with Liam’s gray car rushing at high speeds.
I barely pay attention to Bandini’s rankings. For once, I want the opposing team to win. This is an important race for Liam, with him needing to prove himself to his German fans and McCoy.
Blurs of colors pass as Bandini and McCoy compete against one another. The crew prep for Liam’s pit stop, with the mechanics running around carrying spare parts and wheels. Adrenaline courses through me at the prospect of Liam winning. He flies through another lap, clocking in the fastest time yet.
Liam rides Noah’s tail as they race through the track. My body pulses with energy, wishing the best for Bandini while wanting Liam to overtake Noah. The two of them, a haze of red and gray, fight for first place.
Liam’s car hums as he takes down the track. With a few laps left, Liam’s window of opportunity to overtake Noah is closing. Noah hits top speeds as he drives through the narrow straits of the German track. McCoy’s vehicle is best equipped for sharp turns, which makes Noah vulnerable during the next curvy section of the track.
Liam presses on the accelerator early during one of the turns and his car inches ahead of Noah’s. He pushes past Noah before cutting in front of him. The move closes Bandini off from the first-place position. Liam’s family and I go wild, jumping around as the pit crew whistles and claps.
Liam expertly defends his position against Noah for the final two laps. He passes the finish line, clocking in the fastest lap and the German Grand Prix winner title in one go.
“We’re so proud of him. That’s our baby boy.” His mom pulls me in for a hug. I still in her arms, not used to this type of affection.
Liam’s family beams, their smiles bright and their eyes shining as they watch Liam complete his victory lap. They pull me in for a group hug. I’m not accustomed to such a large family unit, but I can’t help loving how it feels to be welcomed and included.
The whole Zander experience is another chip at my heart. I accept their affection because, why not, I’m already committed to seeing this through straight to my demise. There’s nothing quite like pairing heartache with unattainable wishes. If my relationship with Liam wasn’t torture enough, he had to add a sweet family into the mix.
Well, damn. I really screwed myself over this time.
28
Liam
Rick and I set up a meeting in Brazil to discuss logistics and offers because I rarely hear from him nowadays. It’s been weeks since he called me on my birthday. His job keeps him busy as he handles me and a few other clients, instead preferring to discuss contracts once we could meet in person.
We sit together in a McCoy conference room. He scatters papers around the table, some with Excel sheets and others with transcripts of his conversations with other teams.
“Any word on McCoy’s thoughts about my counteroffer?”
“He’s willing to look past you associating with any Bandini workers.”
I only care about one Bandini woman. “And Sophie?”