Page 113 of Tipping Point

And yet, here it was, front page news.

Wait. I scramble upright. Had I actually asked him about it?

Why me? I think for the thousandth time. Why had he insisted that I do the interview?

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I had this thought that he…I don’t know. That he had something to say to me. And he did, he apologised. I might find a way to forgive him, especially after he recounted the accident. His pain had been evident, a millstone about his neck. And for a wild moment I had thought that he…

That he what? That he would ask me for another chance?

I glance down at my phone screen, the headline still displayed.

He wouldn’t. So many times he had said it, that it had become his mantra.

“You can’t be a race car driver and have a life,” I say out loud, to the empty room. He had accepted this offer from Delta Victor days ago. He never intended to ask me for a second chance.

He had made it explicitly clear that he would never have a legitimate relationship while he was a driver, wouldn’t expect someone to live with the fear of losing someone they loved.

I had tried to tell him so many times, and he never really understood what I meant.

Angrily, I pack up. It’s time to leave, to move on.

A soft knock at the door startles me.

“I’m coming!” I scramble around for a hair tie and give up. Straightening my wrinkled clothes, I open the door.

My stomach swoops. It’s Finn.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” I narrow my eyes. “How’d you know which room I’m in?”

“Dixon.” He shrugs. “Concierge wasn’t helpful at all.”

“That bastard.” I brush my curls away, and he smiles. Unsnaps a hair tie from his wrist, hands it over.

I turn it over in my hand. It’s mine.

For some reason it makes me want to cry. I turn away from him, tying my hair up.

“Congratulations on the new contract,” I say, my voice thick. “Why didn’t you say you accepted it yesterday?”

“You didn’t ask.”

I turn back to him, but I can’t look at him. The five o’clock shadow on his jaw, the full bottom lip. His brown eyes.

“Guess I’m not a very good journalist.” I laugh.

He doesn’t join in. “Why didn’t you though? Why didn’t you ask?”

I’m trying to think back, but yesterday is still so raw. Hope’s tears when Finn recounted the story, how he had turned to her when she spoke, as if she was his peace.

It’s why I suggested the foundation in the first place. A way to tie them together, a way for him to keep her close.

And suddenly it’s clear. “I didn’t ask, because I didn’t want you to lie to me.”

“Camille.”

“Don’t. You know what I mean.”

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