Page 52 of Formula Freedom
Lara bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over. I chuckle and hand him a beer.
“Told you,” I say.
Carlos sips furiously. “I am personally attacked by this experience.”
“Welcome to Australia,” Lara says, grinning. “Next up? Tim Tams. Those, you’ll like.”
Carlos waves a hand dramatically. “I’m going to need emotional support before I try anything else.”
CHAPTER 16
Lara
Sunlight pours throughthe wide windows over the kitchen sink and the scent of bacon and fresh coffee makes my stomach rumble. Mum hums under her breath as she flips pancakes on the griddle, while Reid stands nearby squeezing orange juice like he owns the place.
He kind of does, in a weird, nostalgic way. Reid grew up a street away but was over here at my house as much as I was at the Hemsworths’. We never knocked when we visited, just walked in and called out a greeting. I wonder how that might change going forward, especially since I don’t know that I want to walk in on Lance if he’s visiting his parents. That’s one of many examples when a wave of sadness hits me for everything that’s been lost, and I understand all too keenly that’s the chance you take when friendships turn romantic.
Carlos left early this morning to head back to Monaco, where he apparently lives. Reid explained that a lot of the FI drivers live in Monaco because it’s ridiculously safe, dripping in luxury, and perfectly positioned in the middle of the European circuit. Add in the fact that there’s no income tax, and it’s easy to see why half the grid calls it home.
It was a very fond farewell I gave to the charming Mexican driver, and I already miss his easy presence, the way he lightened everything without making it seem trivial.
Reid sets out the carafe of juice just as Mum calls out, “Breakfast is ready!”
We gather around the big wooden table, Mum and Dad on one side, Graham and Leanne on the other, Reid and I tucked in across from each other. The parents got back mid-morning and Mum insisted on brunch together. While it’s not odd for the Candlish and Hemsworth families to share meals, this feels a bit contrived. Like they’re forcing normalcy on us in a very not-normal time. However, I appreciate the sentiment behind it and suspect it’s all for my benefit to show that no one is upset with me for calling off the engagement.
Despite the dark cloud that persists it’s also weirdly ordinary, and I assume that comes from years and years of love and trust between our families.
Reid and I listen while our parents talk about their adventures in Melbourne—high tea at Hopetoun, shopping along Collins Street, and the theater production they saw at the Regent. Leanne raved about the costumes and my dad couldn’t stop talking about the chocolate soufflé they had afterward. It’s all so… normal. Like the past week hasn’t been a whirlwind of crashing emotional waves and the quiet beginnings of something that presents itself a lot like love.
Of course, that’s a secret between me and Reid for now.
As I sip my orange juice, Reid catches my eye and gives the smallest nod.
Right. Time to rip off the Band-Aid.
“So,” I say, stacking two pancakes and keeping my tone casual. “Reid invited me to travel with him over the next week and I accepted.”
Mum pauses mid-pour of maple syrup and the table goes silent.
Reid jumps in smoothly. “It will be good for her to get away from this and since she works remotely, she’s free to travel.”
Dad arches a brow. “Where will you be going?”
“Monaco for a few days to handle some press, then on to Zurich for race prep.”
“I think that’s wonderful,” Leanne says as she spears a strawberry. “And you’ll go to the race in Suzuka?”
I hedge a little, just so it doesn’t look like I’m overly committed to traveling with Reid. I don’t know why, but it makes me uncomfortable, as if we’re asking for permission. “I figured the space might do some good but I’m not sure I’ll make it to Suzuka. We’ll see.”
Graham clears his throat. “Sounds like a positive change of scenery.”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” my dad says, reaching over and patting my hand. “You’ve been through a lot. You deserve to see something beautiful.”
My stomach twists. Not guilt, exactly—more like a tight awareness of what we’re not saying. We’re not telling them that Reid and I have already crossed a line. That we’re sharing rooms, not just travel plans.
But they don’t need to know that. Not yet.
“You will talk to Lance soon, right?” Mum says gently, bringing the inevitable topic forward. “I know he’s not handling this well.”
