Chapter 83

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nobody talk to me; the f1 season is over so i am sad

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nobody talk to me; the f1 season is over so i am sad

(lots and lots of comments will cheer me up a little fyi)

over 6k words so you're in for a treat (and potentially some lando content ;) )

~***~

I nestled my head deeper into the crook of Max's neck. In my hands, my fingers twirled the shiny new key attached to the bunch I had already accumulated over the years. Whilst every key was significant in some way, whether it was used to unlock the jewellery box on my dresser or used to unlock my childhood home, none of them was as special to me in this moment as the key to mine and Max's new shared home. We had stopped by on our way to the airport to take measurements and photos so that we could plan our daughters' room on the sixteen hour flight to Singapore, an attempt to keep myself distracted from the impending swarm of media without Damien around and to prepare ourselves for their birth.

"How about this one for the walls?" Max asked, holding a light rose paint swatch up to the screen of his laptop. Even in the dim aeroplane light of our shared first class compartment (the Wednesday sun had long since set), I could tell that the colour wasn't right. "Girls like pink, right? I mean, you do."

"I don't want to force such silly gender stereotypes on them from the moment they're born," I told him with a roll of my eyes. "Not every girl likes pink, babe, and choosing it for their bedroom just because their girls isn't a good enough reason. The main reason I like the colour is because it's my brand, and the electric pink I have going for me at Mercedes doesn't feel suitable for a wall."

"So what do you suggest?"

I paused for thought, taking the paint swatches from his hand. From an earlier trip to a DIY store, we had collected many different colour ideas for different rooms in the new house. If it were up to Max, the walls would stay the same shade of white throughout the house, and I just couldn't let that happen. My fingers lingered over a delicate peach colour before I plucked it out and held it up to the screen. "This is pretty, and it's a shade of orange, too."

I looked up to Max. His eyebrow was raised and a small smile played at the corner of his lips. "So because I'm Dutch I must like orange?"

"Orange is one of your top three personality traits," I said with a shrug. He opened his mouth to protest but quickly closed it. I smiled victoriously. "Exactly."

"Until they're old enough to pick their wall colour themselves, I'd say it's a pretty strong contender," he declared, picking up a pen to draw a small heart in the top right corner of the swatch.

"It'll match with me at McLaren next year, too," an amused voice spoke from behind us. I jumped away from Max at the sudden new person joining in on our conversation, however my startled features settled when I realised it was a familiar and much loved person. Daniel Ricciardo's grinning face was peeking through the gap about the chairs. I had absolutely no idea he was on our flight, and my surprise made his words take a moment to register.

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