Going For The Gap

Something Indeed

Max drives for blocks before I even work up the courage to speak again.

My phone is ringing off the hook so I do the only thing I can handle right now and slide it off. I'm not ready to answer questions. It'll be a fucking miracle if this doesn't make the press. And it's the Italian Grand Prix this week. The Ferrari party. I'm so overwhelmed I'm spinning.

The only thing I know for sure, "I can't marry him." I lean my head back into the seat with a deep sigh.

"I know." Max replies. Simple and to the point.

Surveying the car, it's a beautiful Aston Martin DB. The top is gone, allowing in the beautiful Italian air in. Classic silver and every inch a vintage beauty. The man has taste in cars, that's for damn sure. "I can't believe his balls, even showing up after Canada."

"Or his stupidity." His tone deadly serious.

"You could say that again," I echo, thankful for the random friend I've found in Max. Thankful to get the hell out of there. "Where are we going?"

"Where do you want to go?" His answer tells me he has no idea either. He was honestly just driving along until I gathered the courage to speak. My heart swells two sizes at just the realization.

Where do I want to go?

That suddenly feels like a loaded question.

I don't know where I want to go.

"Do you want to go see him?" Max asks after my long beat of silence.

Him? Jay? Hell no, surely that's not what he means. "Him who?" I turn to face him, and his eyes never leave the road.

"Charles." He says matter of factly.

Yes.

No.

How does he know? Does he know? I ask my newfound friend the safest question possible "What makes you think I'd want to see Charles?"

"I've known Charles since before our balls dropped" The dutchman can't help but crack a smile at that one, "I know something going on between you guys."

I'm absolutely shocked.

Something indeed.

"Oh, it's nothing serious." I lie.

For the first time since the party, he turns to face me. "You don't have to lie to me. It won't go anywhere else."

And the truth of the matter is, I believe him.

"Yes," I sign admitting I do want to see Charles and that something in fact is happening between us at the same time. "It's nothing serious but... I would like to see him."

"It's serious to him." Max reveals to me. I desperately hope he's right. I don't think he'd lie to me. So when he pulls up at the hotel, gives me a room and offers to wait ten minutes I take him up on it. The last thing I need is another night alone.

Every step feels like the weight of a thousand pounds to his room.

We need to talk.

We have too.

We can't keep avoiding it anymore and I know it, we know it. 

When I finally knock, he doesn't answer.

I freeze, listening and hear absolutely nothing. The answer is clear, he's not even here.

Awesome. Fucking fantastic.

"He's not here," I shrug it off when I get to the car as if the hurt isn't stabbing me in the chest, but can't help but blink back the tears that come. I'm so fucking glad I didn't tell Max to leave. "Will you take me home?"

The offer is clear, "Anywhere you want." We fall into easy silence on the drive, saying nothing but directions.

I'm trying horribly to make up my mind about how to fix this but I see no way out. We finally pull up in front of the beautiful villa of my childhood. The relief hits me like a brick wall. Home. 

All I know is, I don't want to be alone.

"Will you come in with me?" I look over at Max, tears welling up. He thankfully doesn't comment on it, letting me feel what I need in peace. His only answer is the shutting off of the engine and the open of his door.

The only answer I need. Unlocking the door, I head straight for the ice cream and my secret joint stash. Goods secured, we head out to the pool.

"Care if I smoke?" I ask Max who shakes his head as he takes a seat beside me "Max... Do you think I ruined everything tonight?"

He carefully considers the question, allowing me a few tokes first. He does choose to indulge in the ice cream at least.

"No. The people that are meant to be around will stay around." Wise words. I choose to believe them, choose to find some optimism in this chaos.

"I hope so." My voice is hoarse with emotion as I respond.

"It's fate," His small shrug says it all. "And Amelia, just because people will ask you questions doesn't mean you have to answer."

I study his face, taking it all in. I don't want to speak because I don't want to cry.

So we just sit here for a long time, weighing the moments. Taking in the mountains before us. The stars above us. We don't say much, but we don't have too.

"Il mio raggio di sole?" My papa's voice calls his signature nickname from behind me.

"Ciao," I call out as he approaches from behind us, the look on Max's face telling me he's out of here. I keep it simple for him, "I'll never forget what you did for me Max."

Because I won't. He sure as hell didn't have to help me, but he did twice now. His nod and small smile shows his appreciation, and he steps away to greet my papa with an "Evening sir," all that is returned as they swap out shifts with me.

He sit at my feet, and I immediately move to hug him. I grip him so hard you'd think I was attached to a thousand ballons and would fly away without him.

"Mi dispiace," I offer him my apologies as the tears I was holding in start to flow. With them, I let the rest of the story. What happened with Jay, how Charles and Max helped me. How he'd ignored me for months. How he never even said sorry for hitting me. The emotion of all of it. 

My sweet wonderful father just holds me as I break down, promising we'll make it alright together. And I believe him. He would move mountains for me. He hates press, but he would never punish me for what had happened with the whole story. I feel so safe with him. So happy to be home until the Grand Prix.

I feel safe at home, until the race weekend calls for work again. It's hard just to get through the weekend. There's a shit ton of press, but I take Max's advice and only answer a select few. My private life doesn't require public validation. The only bonus is the added swirl around me makes it harder to run into Charles. Who hasn't bother to take any of my calls.

I almost walk into the Ferrari garage at least once an hour to confront him Charles head on. But I don't. I won't. I refuse to allow myself any further hurt. 

The courage is knocked out of me. The wind out of my sails. But it's the last race before summer break, and the home air is fueling me to keep going. To push through. 

One step at a time. Career first, men come and go I remind myself again and again. I'll keep on until I believe it again. I have to.