LILY
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
It's still dark when I slip out of our warm, cozy bed at six in the morning. Even though it's Miami, it's still a little chilly because it's February, so I go to the walk-in closet and throw on a pair of fuzzy socks, along with my favorite pink sweatshirt and a pair of pink-and-white flannel shorts.
As I'm padding out of the bedroom, Max's voice hits my ears.
"Babe? Why are you getting out of bed so early?"
I return to the bed, leaning down to kiss his neck. His smooth skin smells faintly of his cologne and warm, sleepy man.
"I'm making something special for today."
He reaches for me, trying to pull me back on the mattress. "What's today?"
For a second, I think he's serious and I'm about to reprimand him, but when he laughs softly, I realize he's merely joking.
"You know what day it is," I tease, nibbling on his neck. "Now let me go cook. Go back to sleep."
He lands a playful swat on my butt as I climb out of bed and head into the living room. The morning sun is about to break over the horizon of the Atlantic Ocean, and a soothing, dusky, blue hue illuminates the sky. It's warm glow reflects off the other skyscrapers nearby, the light bouncing off the cold steel and glass.
My first order of business is the most important: making a pot of coffee.
Then, as I check on my plants, I repeat my new mantra. It's a new one, different than what I used to say each morning in my old job, and during those crazy weeks when I ran Dad's Formula World team.
First I say a little prayer silently to the universe, then to the people I love, and finally, to myself. The worry beads live in my home office, near my desk. These days I only touch them when I'm bored on a phone call. The morning mantra works just fine, now that my life is in balance.
May I be happy, may I be healthy, may I be safe, may I live with ease...
I take a spray bottle off the shelf and squirt a fine mist onto the giant green leaves of my Monstera plant. It survived — barely — my Mom and Dad's stay here last summer.
I rescued it from a certain death when I came home that August, a few weeks after Max's terrible crash. When his shoulder was finally stable, he flew here too, and along with the plants, I dedicated myself to nursing him back to health.
First, we found Miami's best sports injury clinic and got him into physical therapy. I won't lie: those initial couple of months were difficult. Although he recovered from his concussion quickly and without any lingering memory issues, his shoulder was another problem altogether.
Max was in a ton of pain, and we both worried he'd never regain use of his right arm again.
But because of Max's fierce determination, he persevered with his therapy. Now he has almost full range of motion in the arm, although sometimes he still is in some pain if he overtrains. He made the decision to retire from the sport, and insists that he has no regrets about the timing of his exit.
We also learned what it would be like to live together, after years of him being on the road as a driver. He annoys me when he doesn't put the toilet seat down, and I annoy him when I leave mail stacked on the kitchen counter.
But other than minor issues like those, we're like peanut butter and chocolate: meant to be together. During the weekdays, we're busy with our respective projects. He's working on launching the new electric race car circuit that's going to have a season opener next year in Miami.
I thought he'd miss driving more, but surprisingly, he doesn't. When he wants a fix, he takes his Porsche to a local track and drives like a bat out of hell for an hour. That seems to satisfy him. I also expect that we'll fly to see a few races this coming season and hang out with Dad's team. As Max told the media during his official retirement press conference:
"My entire identity since I was a teenager has been as a racecar driver. It's time for me to step into a new identity. Several, even. A partner to my beautiful Lily. Perhaps, if she agrees, an identity as a father."
He'd looked at me when he spoke those words, and I was so surprised — and charmed — that all I could do was press my hands to my heart. We're a ways away from children, because we're enjoying our life right now.
I'm also doing something racing-related. Not long after Max's crash, a publisher contacted me and asked if I'd like to work with a top racing photographer on a coffee table book, writing profiles of pioneering women in motorsport. I've interviewed everyone from drivers to pit crew team members to my friend Savannah Jenkins, who now owns a team. It's been inspiring listening to such incredible women, and it's making me wonder if I should truly be more involved in Dad's team.
Dad, and Max, are giving me the space to work that out on my own. I'll reach a decision sometime this year, but for now, I'm ecstatic with the life Max and I have built in Miami. We're talking about adopting a dog, and we've found a circle of friends together, people with ties to the racing world.
Anh is one of them — she's dating an older, retired automotive engineer, a true genius. He looks like a silver fox, with a goatee and silver hair, and I don't think I've ever seen her so happy. She's bought a beach condo and we're seeing each other more than ever.
Another couple who is getting along are my parents. Although they're still their weird, bickering selves, they've been under the same roof since Dad's heart attack. They even invited Max and I up to their home for Christmas. A few days after, we flew to Germany to be with his family for New Year's. Dad's let go of the team, a little, and this upcoming race season, Jack will be more in charge.
Once I'm finished with the plants, I go into the kitchen. It's Valentine's Day, and I've been planning to make Max's favorite: Apfelpfannkuchen.
His mom taught me her recipe when we visited in Germany, and I thought today would be an excellent day to surprise him with his favorite dish. Of course, we have reservations for dinner tonight on the beach, but romance can't start too early, can it?
I assemble my ingredients and am almost finished arranging the apple slices when Max comes out of the bedroom. He looks yummier than breakfast, wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants. Now that we're living together, I can be a little more open in my ogling of his body in those sweatpants, something he's always teasing me about.
He gives me a little grin as I pour him a cup of coffee, then asks if I need any help with cooking.
"Nope. You relax."
It takes me a little while to fry several pancakes, and while I'm doing that, Max streams some jazz music on the wireless speaker. The soothing strains of a bass and piano waft through the morning silence, giving the atmosphere a perfect lazy Sunday vibe.
We eat at the kitchen island, talking about where we're going to adopt the dog, then we shift to the sofa. This is our weekend routine, snuggling and reading on our phones, sipping coffee, just taking it easy in ways we weren't able to in our previous lives.
Max is still fitter than many athletes — old habits die hard — and now that his shoulder is better, he's training for a half-marathon. He wanted to run a whole, but his doctor and I convinced him to scale it back.
"You going for a run today?" I ask.
"Mmm, I think I'll take the day off. I'd like to go back to bed." He slides a glance at me and grins while waggling his eyebrows, and my face heats into a blush. His obvious lust for me still thrills me to my core.
The sun is almost entirely over the water now, a sherbet-colored ball that makes the blue water shimmer. I'm reading my emails on my iPad and Max is staring out at the ocean. We're sitting close enough on the sofa that I can feel the heat of his body on mine.
"I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful sunrise," he says.
I set my iPad down and look out the window, straightening my glasses. It really is a gorgeous sunrise, and I smile and rest my head on his shoulder.
Max takes a sip of his coffee and sets it on an end table. He kisses my temple and shifts off the sofa. "I'll be right back."
His absence means the cool air hits my bare legs, and I pull a warm, pale green throw over my lap. I love Sunday mornings like this, quiet and peaceful. Romantic in the best way to describe these moments, and they're everything I'd hoped for when we decided to live together.
I zone out for a few minutes, watching the ocean waves ebb and flow while sipping my coffee. Max has been gone a little while, and I'm wondering what he's doing. Finally, I hear the slap of his bare feet against the wood floor in the hallway, and he comes into view.
He shifts the coffee table a little to the left and stands over me while clearing his throat. I look up, confused.
"Did you want to rearrange the furniture today? Maybe go look at some new stuff? We probably should replace this fluffy rug if we're going to get a dog." We'd also talked about getting new living room décor recently.
"No."
I frown and untuck my feet from the blanket, placing them on the floor. Why is he standing there, all awkward, shifting from one foot to the next? Then he kneels at my feet and my heart rate kicks up so fast that I'm suddenly dizzy.
"I was going to do this tonight at dinner, but I think it's better I ask you here, in our home. I didn't want to wait because patience isn't in my DNA." He reaches into his sweatpants pocket and brings out a small, black velvet box.
I gasp so loud that he fumbles and drops the box, which rolls a few inches toward my foot.
"Oops. Sorry. I'm really nervous." He's trembling as he reaches for the box, then opens it.
Inside there's a glittering diamond solitaire ring, and I gulp in a breath. The ring is set in platinum, and the stone large, but not massive. Simple and elegant. Exactly what I would've picked for myself. I can't tear my eyes from it because it looks like it's dipped in fairy dust and something from my girlhood dreams.
"Lily, will you marry me?" His voice cracks as he asks the question. "I love you."
I nod, still unable to speak or breathe.
He exhales. I exhale.
"Oh, thank God." He's still shaking as he takes the ring out of the box. "Um, I need your hand."
"Yes. My hand. Yes. I'll marry you." A little nervous laugh slips out of my mouth.
He pushes the ring on my finger and all I can do is slide down to the fluffy white rug on the floor, onto his lap. I wrap my arms around him and we tumble back, onto the floor, kissing.
I sit up while straddling him. "You thought I wouldn't say yes?"
"I don't know what I thought. I was so nervous the second I woke up. Couldn't wait until tonight. And I figured you wouldn't want a big, showy proposal in public."
He knows me so well. I extend my hand in the direction of the window, and the diamond shimmers like the morning ocean. Then I reach for Max's face and cradle it in my hands. His hair is the color of spun gold, and his blue eyes no longer look icy and cool. Instead, they're warm and familiar.
Like home.
"I love you," I whisper, leaning down to press my lips to his, as the morning sun bathes us in its light.
— THE END —
THANK YOU for reading my book! You are all so wonderful with your comments and likes. BURN is undergoing editing now, and will be published in paperback and ebook from W by Wattpad books in March 2024! The edited version has been expanded and improved, so be sure to check it out when it's published — and when the final version is posted here on Wattpad! xoxo