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Overthinking in situations like these is my specialty. Any situation really.
“Hello?” I answer the phone, holding my breath while I wait for her to talk.
“Nevaeh, how are you?” she asks, and we small-talk for a moment about my trip back to Monaco and how she’s been. “Listen, there is something I need to discuss with you,” Ms. Martin starts, making my hands shake uncontrollably.
“Am I in trouble?” I can’t help but ask. Not knowing what she’s going to say is killing me.
Uncertainty is poison for a person with anxiety.
Ironic because the antidote isn’t always certainty either.
“That depends, and I’m sorry to have to ask, but are you involved with Mr. Romana? It has been brought to my attention that the two of you have been growing closer.”
My heart drops into my stomach.
“What has prompted this line of questioning?” I ask, my heart racing and a cold sweat breaking out across my back. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Mr. Fender has mentioned seeing you and Mr. Romana sharing a hug on Sunday after his crash.”
Of course,hementioned it.
“Mr. Romana and I have been growing closer, as friends and only friends. I have also been growing closer to Ms. Romana, Mr. Biancheri, as well as Ms. Romana’s race engineer, and many other people I’m working with. Formula One is a community with caring and kind people. It’s difficult not to befriend them,” I reply, hoping it will convince her that I’ve been doing everything right.
I hate lying, but it’s also not fun that my job is controlling my life.
“I understand. Just remember the rule,” she reminds me, even though it’s not necessary. I’ve memorized this rule.
“I will,” I promise and wipe my face.
My Omi used to say, “Promises, promises. They’re as thin as paper, but, sometimes, they can tie you to a decision for a lifetime.”
I didn’t understand what she meant at the time, that a piece of paper could hold so much power. As I got older, learned about contracts and marriage certificates, the meaning became a lot clearer.
I don’t want to be tied to this promise when I have no intention of keeping it.
“Now, for the good part of this call, I wanted to tell you how wonderful your article was. It will be published tomorrow. I’m just waiting for Mr. Biancheri’s team to approve it,” she says, and I smile brightly.
“Gabriel loved it, so I hope they do as well,” I reply and stand up to stretch my legs.
My apartment looks so empty, it irritates me. Luckily, Val is picking me up to go bed and mattress shopping soon. I can’t sleep on the floor tonight, after all. It’s my first night by myself in the apartment, and, as excited as I am to have independence and freedom, I’m also a little scared.
“You sent it to him before giving it to me?” Ms. Martin asks, pulling me back to the conversations.
“Yes, of course. I believe the driver should have a say first, considering this is a very intimate article and interview that we do,” I explain, my finger trailing over my window sill.
“That’s very thoughtful, Nevaeh. I’m proud of you.” A smile grows on my face at her praise.
We hang up soon after, and I make my way downstairs to meet Val at three o’clock, just like she told me to. A pick-up truck stands in front of my building, and I cock a brow at it before looking for my friend’s car instead.
“Get in,” his familiar voice fills my ears.
Sunglasses cover his light eyes, and the way he sits in the truck, one hand on the wheel while the other lies on the middle console, has my knees a little weak. He’s annoyingly attractive.
“I’m taking you mattress shopping,” he says, and I shake my head.
“No, thank you. I’m waiting for Val,” I reply and pull out my phone to call her.
If she let him come instead of her and didn’t tell me, then I have a bone to pick with her. We had a girl’s day planned.
