Page 50 of Racing Hearts
He mumbled a quiet, “Morning,” before disappearing toward his bedroom, and the lump in my throat grew.
I hesitated only a moment before calling after him.
“Luca!”
He paused in the doorway. I wasn’t sure if I should bother him, but I thought back to what I always needed in moments like this. Anxiety was common in the racing community, and I understood what this home race meant to him, the pressure that he was under. Everyone he loved most in the world would be there today, watching him. Expecting him to put on a show that would make Italy proud.
I lifted the carafe. “Want some coffee? There’s enough for two here.”
Luca’s eyes flickered up to the kitchen and then down to his toes, but much to my surprise, he nodded, taking a seat on the sofa. Handing him a cup, I sat down next to him on the plush maroon couch, letting the silence fill the room as I watched the ripples in my coffee.
Should I say something?Sometimes just having someone near me was enough to calm my anxiety. I knew this more than anyone, how comforting it was to just sit next to someone when the world felt so impossible and heavy on your shoulders.
After a few more minutes of sipping our coffee in silence, Luca finally spoke up. “I’m surprised you take your coffee black.”
“I would never insult a coffee roaster by adding cream and sugar,” I gasped, pretending to feign offense, although I was slightly offended on behalf of coffee everywhere. That earned me a small chuckle. He took a sip, hands wrapped tightly around the mug. “You feeling okay?”
Luca’s eyes darted to the window, before settling on the floor. “Just a lot on my mind. After yesterday’s qualifying, Henri had to take a penalty, so he’s starting at the back of the grid.”
Which meant today—for the first time—Luca would be the number one driver at Hermes. He would finally get the prioritization he deserved. But it also meant expectations. The kind that crushed you before you even got behind the wheel.
“I’ve never had so many eyes on me,” he said. “Family, team, fans… Italy.” He swallowed. “No Italian has won Monza since my dad. And now they all think I might.”
Words kept spilling out of him, as if the load on his mind lightened with each passing breath.
“Sometimes I feel like it’s all too much. It would just be easier if someone crashed my car, so I wouldn’t have to face the possibility of completing the race but not making it on the podium. The possibility of disappointing my father.”
I smiled at him softly, taking a moment to process and appreciate his vulnerability. “The only person that you can let down this weekend is yourself,” I said finally. “You don’t owe anyone anything, including your father. You drive foryou, and only you. You’re going to drive this weekend with the same amount of passion you have for your country, and I think it’ll transpire into something you’ll be proud of. You have immense talent. If you want this win, then fight for it today.”
“I just—”
“No,” I cut him off. “You’re many things, Luca, but you’re not a coward.”
A faint smile ghosted across his lips.
“Plus, you have a real opportunity to comesecondin this race, assuming that pesky driver starting pole doesn’t run you off the track.” He actually laughed, the sound low and real.
We sipped in silence again for a few more moments. A strand of hair fell over my face, and Luca reached over, brushing it back, fingers lingering against my cheek. His lips slowly parted as if he was about to speak, but he said nothing, his eyes instead flickering down to my lips as a familiar spark of butterflies surged. My breath caught as he closed the space between us.
Wednesday’s gala had been teasing and fun, fueled by one too many champagne glasses from each of us as we both fought to dominate the other. But this? This was something else entirely.
His lips hovered over mine, our foreheads brushing. Luca’s thumb traced the corner of my mouth like he was memorizing it. The sun was rising outside. Warm light spilled across the living room floor, and for a moment, the entire world fell away.
All I saw was Luca. The one behind the headlines. The one who made me laugh. The one who got it, who understood the pressure, the performance, the fear.
I likedthisLuca sitting next to me. Leaning in, I found myself drawn to the charming dimple on his left cheek. Our lips were now only inches apart, and I couldn’t deny the growing desire to feel them against mine.
“Georgia, you there?”
Loud banging on my hotel room door caused us both to jump, startled by the interruption. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he looked a bit embarrassed by our near-kiss.
Groaning, I got to my feet and cracked the door open. “Lily? You alright?” Lily and I were close, but it was unusual to hear her knocking on my door at seven thirty in the morning.
She nodded timidly as she fidgeted from side to side, biting her lower lip. It wasn’t until she entered that I remembered Luca was sitting on the sofa—shirtless—wearing some skimpy, soft athletic shorts as pajamas, which became evident by the cheeky smirk on Lily’s face.
“Oh,” Lily snickered quietly. “Am I interrupting something?”
I gave her a withering look, one I hoped communicatedNot one word of this in the garage, or I will sabotage your car. She gave me a sweet smile and plopped herself into the nearest chair.
