Page 69 of Speed Crush

It’s about knowing I don’t want to waste any more time pretending I’m not already halfway gone for her.

And maybe it’s fast. But it’s real. So, I take a breath and ask anyway.

"Would you be okay if Juniper comes with me to Italy this weekend? To visit Fagioli HQ."

The room goes dead quiet.

Mack blinks. Vicky’s head tilts, just slightly. June freezes beside me.

Then Mack’s voice drops low. "My Juniper? Your team needs more mechanics? Don't you have a full staff of engineers?"

I sit up straighter, feeling the weight of what I’m about to say land in my chest first.

Then I look Mack in the eye.

"No, sir. You misunderstood. I like your daughter. I’m asking because I want her with me. That’s all."

Vicky’s eyes widen. Mack stops breathing.

June practically launches out of her seat. “We’ll be right back,” she says, grabbing my arm and hauling me through their house, toward what I think is the den.

No one stops her.

I think everyone—including me—is still catching up to what I just said.

I should’ve led with coffee. Or pancakes. Or anything other than asking to fly off with their daughter.

And yeah, maybe I could’ve eased into it. Played it smooth. Kept it casual.

But I meant it.

And if I’m serious about her—and I am—I’m not backing down now.

She doesn’t say a word until we reach the den.

Then she shoves me—gently, but with purpose—down into the worn leather armchair by the window.

“What the hell was that?” she says, arms crossed, eyes wild.

I blink up at her, still winded from the last two minutes of my life.

“You mean breakfast?”

She narrows her eyes. “Noah.”

Yeah, I deserve that tone.

I run a hand through my hair, lean forward with my elbows on my knees.

“I meant it,” I say. “Look—about this weekend—I have to ask if your parents are okay with you leaving with me.”

She hesitates like she wasn’t expecting me to double down.

“Do you even have a passport?” I ask, suddenly realizing I shouldn’t have assumed anything before asking Mack.“So… do you?”

She crosses her arms tighter, brow furrowed. “Yes. I have a valid international passport. But Noah… this is crazy. You didn’t even ask me.”

I sit back, exhale. “Well, I’m asking now.”

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