“Was he angry?”
He shrugs, a smile teasing his lips. “A bit, but I’ve ditched him to come to a car show, not to go out partying, so he can’t be too mad.”
He gives a cheeky grin that makes my erratic heart swell in my chest.
And that makes me take a step back.
“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were coming. If I had, I wouldn’t have come.” I don’t know how true that is. I would have come because I had to see my father’s car. I would have just come when I knew he wouldn’t be here.
“Wow,” he says with an incredulous tone in his voice and a hurt look on his face. “I know we’re in a weird place right now, but you hate me that much?”
My eyes widen with shock. “No. I don’t hate you. Of course not. And ‘weird place’ is putting it mildly, Carrick. You can hardly bear to be in the same room as me. When I said I wouldn’t have come, I meant, for your sake. I know it’s bad enough that you have to see me at work.”
“Jesus…Andressa.” He rubs his forehead with his fingers and then takes a step toward me. “That’s not…I just…fuck.” His eyes blink in earnest at me. “I’m really fucking sorry for the way I’ve behaved lately. The way I’ve treated you…I’ve been a complete bastard.”
I wrap my arms around myself in protection. “You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s me who should be sorry.”
He shakes his head. “I think we’ve both been at fault in one way or another lately. I just…I don’t deal well with rejection.” He shoves a hand through his hair, looking awkward. “When I’m rejected, I act like a total prick.”
“I know. You’ve told me that before. In China, remember?”
“Yeah, and I acted like a prick then, too. No wonder you don’t want me.”
My face drops. “Carrick…I…”
“Sorry. Just pretend I didn’t say that and sound like the biggest fucking loser on the planet. Actually, can we just forget everything and start from the beginning?”
“Start from the beginning?” My brows pull together.
“Yeah. It could be like we just met for the first time. Forget everything that has happened and start fresh.”
“Oh.” I don’t want to forget a moment of anything with him. Even the bad stuff. “Why?” I ask quietly.
He takes another step closer. The space between us is marginal now. I can smell his aftershave…feel him. My body starts to ache with need.
“Because I’ve come to realize that I’d rather have you in my life…than not at all.” He blows out a breath, giving me hopeful eyes. “So, what do you say?”
Even though it stings that he just wants to erase our past like it doesn’t matter, I know I have no right to feel that way. And I can’t turn down the chance to have him in my life again.
I hold my hand out. “Hi, I’m Andi Amaro.”
He glances down at my hand, a smile touching his eyes. When he takes hold of my hand, I feel those familiar sparks I always feel whenever he touches me, but this time, I feel an ache so deep that it burns into my bones.
Somehow, I manage to hold myself together.
“Carrick Ryan,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you, Andi.”
“Actually, call me Andressa.” I smile. “This guy I knew, the best guy ever, always insisted on calling me by my full name.”
Lightness flickers in his gaze. “Sounds like a smart guy.”
“He is.”
“Okay, Andressa it is.”
Slipping his hand from mine, he turns to my dad’s car. Taking it in for the first time, he lets out a low whistle. “Wow, William Wolfe’s car. I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never seen it in the flesh. Fucking stunning. Does it still run? Do you know?”
“I don’t think so.” I sadly shake my head. “They generally take the engines out of these classics to keep them pristine.”
“Shame. Car like this should be driven.”
“I know, right? It’s such a waste for it to just sit around, not being used. He would have hated that.”
Carrick looks back at me, questioning.
And I realize my slip up. Shit.
“I mean, I’m guessing he would have because no racing driver would want to see his car sitting around, not being used, right?” I’m fidgeting, so I fold my arms over my chest.
“Right.” He looks back to the car, staring at it. “This is your favorite type of car, too, right? The Jaguar XK120 M Roadster.”
He remembered.
“Yes,” I say slowly.
“Hmm,” he says.
Hmm. What does that mean?
He’s staring at the car still, and I’m starting to feel a little jittery. Worried that maybe he’s beginning to tie things together.
So, I decide it’s time to make my exit, and really, I should leave him to it. I don’t want to push this too far, ruin this even ground we’ve just found.
Stepping back, I say, “So…I’m gonna go look around. It was great bumping into you…and you know, sorting things out.” I offer a smile. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Andressa,” he calls me back.
My body tightens and yearns to reach for him.
As I turn, he’s already moving toward me. “Do you…” He pauses, rubbing a hand over his hair. He looks nervous, which is odd because Carrick never gets nervous. “Would you mind if I come look around with you?”
I hold my breath as my heart leaps into my throat.
I know I said I didn’t want to push things with him, but him asking to be around me right now is a whole different ball game.
“Of course not.” I press my lips into a sincere smile, ignoring the bumpity-bump in my heart at the sight of his face relaxing into that amazing smile of his.
I’M IN MY APARTMENT, finally home. We’re back for the British Grand Prix, which starts in a few weeks. We arrived in England yesterday afternoon, and I now have five days off work before I’m back at Rybell.
I plan on sleeping for four of those five days. All of the traveling and late nights spent working and partying have caught up with me.
I saw Carrick the night before we all left to come home. I was in the hotel bar on my own. Petra had already left, and Carrick was coming back in the hotel. He saw me, came over, and sat down to join me, and we had a drink together in the bar. I had to stop myself from remembering the last time we were together in a hotel bar.
It wasn’t an easy memory to erase.
But that’s what I’ve been trying to do, just like he asked. And we’re doing okay.
Do I still have feelings for him?
Yes.
Do I still want to rip his clothes off his body each time I see him?
Absolutely.
But that gets us nowhere. So I’m focusing on the fact that we’re talking, and I’m happy to have him in my life again even if there is a sense of awkwardness between us.
At times, it’s almost like we’re treading water, figuring out how to be around one another again.
And it’s like he knows I’ve been thinking about him because my phone lights up with his name.
“Hi,” I answer.
“Hey.” His Irish lilt bleeds down the line, making my belly flip. “How are you doing?”