Lilly & Leclerc ~ [CL 16]

24. 3 Words

Strap ya selves in!! It's a big ride!!!

Spa went so fast, the race day filled with its usual chaos as I hid out in the back corners of the Ferrari garage. My hair tied back in a ponytail, headphones that Charles had passed my way tucked over my ears to hear everything that's going on. Throughout the race Arthur flashed his eyes at me the same way he had last time I was here. Following my earlier conversation with Amber I was left braver, lighter and I found myself waving back to Arthur. What's the worst that could happen by admitting my relationship status to other people? Arthur waved back, our interactions drifting no further than that, something I was grateful for considering the TV camera which was shoved in his face at various intervals.

It didn't take long for us to leave when Charles climbed from the car. He was disappointed with his P6 finish, the restart after the summer break not exactly being what he wanted it to be. He needed to get away. The pair of us were strapped into a plane back to London within two and a half hours. It's what he needed.

From there we slipped back into our new routine of the last four weeks.

I went back to work, spending most evenings with Charles where we'd explore London or snuggle close and watch movies on days where it rains. No matter what we fell into bed together, ending each night with gentle kisses before mumbling dreamy 'goodnight's'.

Charles sometimes disappeared on early Thursday mornings or late Wednesday nights on the weeks he had to race. He always returned with something. If it wasn't a trophy it was flowers, or Merch or a needlessly expensive item of jewellery. Each time I try to think of ways to repay him and fail epically, settling for cooking Charles dinner and holding his hand tightly as we watch TV.

On the weekends he was missing Maddie and I watched the race on the sofa, cocktails in our hands to ease my nerves or calm my temper at the decisions made. In the case of Monza in particular they were needed.

Charles was going to win.

A mess up by George meant he was going to win the race. He needed the win. In the three races leading up to his trip to Italy I had seen his excitement for the team fade (for the second time in knowing him), the rest from our summer together no longer able to provide him with the fire he needed to be enthusiastic. Then, as the safety car was still guiding him around the track they called him into pit for a change of tyres, nobody else joined on the stops instead deciding to push through the final laps on old tyres.

The decision dropped him to P3. His car stuck behind Pierre's until the end of the race.

It was a good result, but we both know (everyone knows) what he could've had if that decision wasn't made to pit when he did. He would've been on top of the podium instead of Daniel.

When Charles had arrived back at the flat in the early hours of Monday morning I'd sleepily declared "This flat is a Ferrari-free zone. They don't deserve you baby." Charles just laughed at my words thanking me as he held me in his arms, his tshirt smelling of stale plane air as we drifted off to sleep. Together.

The routine was nice. Having Charles here all the time (with the exception of three races, and that one day he went to visit his mother in Monaco) was nice. Nice feels like an understatement, maybe fantastic is the more apt word. Charles always hated the word nice anyway.

Slipping out of the routine is what's scary.

Charles going away for a whole two and a half weeks is devastating.