In a sense I feel free to hold on to Elaine’s memory when Tessa is by my side because I know she wouldn’t judge me for it or get worried like my sister would.
Everyone told me time would make it better.
And I believed them.
But it didn’t and everyone who says so, hasn’t lost the love of their life. There is something beyond repair inside you when your soulmate dies.
And I know Tessa feels the same.
Her way of living is a love letter to her lost one.
She doesn’t even try to hide it like I do.
She screams her love for him every time she drives too fast or jumps off things.
Not that I’ve seen her do so, but I’ve heard enough from the guys.
They couldn’t shut up about it and if I don’t live that life anymore, if I can’t condemn her or support her, I can see the pain she’s trying to heal by doing so.
Everyone deals with grief differently and if the idea of her jumping off a cliff frightens me to death, who am I to judge her if that is what she needs to repair her heart?
She wasn’t wrong in what she told me.
Every word resonated with me.
It isn’t up to me to tell her how to live her life as it isn’t up to anyone to tell me how to live mine.
Like I always say, if you don’t like something, you should walk away.
And that’s what I’m trying every day.
Even the days she wears a skirt riding up her legs like today and slurps her coffee loudly making the most indecent noises.
My dick is ready to explode but I’m ignoring him.
I’m ignoring anything making me want to fuck her through the car seat.
She isn’t mine to fuck, to hold, or to have, I chant to convince myself.
I take a sip of the coffee she got me and wince burning my tongue in the process.
What is that shit?
It tastes like someone has poured a whole bag of sugar in it.
“Do you like the coffee I picked for you today?” she asks. It’s cute and a few butterflies tickle my stomach. As I told her I didn’t care what coffee she picked for me every morning, she’s making me try every drink on the menu.
A new one each day, day after day, so I wouldn’t have to say I don’t care anymore.
So, I could have an opinion on my drink of predilection and choose for myself once in New York.
Unnecessary as I don’t like coffee, but I didn’t want to tell her.
“It’s okay,” I answer, mastering the art of small talk while keeping my eyes on the road.
“Only okay… Got it, we’ll try something else tomorrow.”
Her voice falls flat at the end of her sentence and I know she has something on her mind, but I prefer her to tell me than me asking what’s the matter and having her feel obliged to tell me.
“Speaking of tomorrow…” she starts. I smile knowing I was right.
“Yes?” I say taking a sip of the coffee I dislike more and more.
“I won’t be able to pick you up in the morning.”
My smile falls at the idea not to spend a little time with her.
“It’s okay, I’ll take an Uber.”
“My time at the track has been moved and I need to be there early to have a chance to work with the team I want.” She tells me. She didn’t need to give me any explanation and I really didn’t need to hear so.
I grunt my disapproval.
It’s not about her activity but about us not having our ten minutes together.
I do everything I can to stop my leg from bouncing and to ignore the discomfort lodging in my chest at the idea of her racing.
“I know you disapprove,” she says with a hint of sadness in her voice.
I want to interrupt her but like she did before, she speaks faster than I can put words together and goes on. “You think it’s dangerous and knowing what you went through, I get it. I’m not going to tell you it’s not, but what I will say is what I’ve told everyone else. I know what I’m doing. I’ve been driving cars and testing their limits for a while. I’ve loved cars all my life. Please trust me.”
I can’t stop my legs from shaking and the anxiety from rising thinking of her dying the way Elaine did. But then I remember the lies I told and the one I live, and the pit I’ve felt in my stomach for the last five years feels deeper than ever. I’m a fake who believes in his own lies.
I fetch my phone to text Naomi that I need to talk to her and Aito but Tessa puts her hand on my thighs, and slowly my worry fades away and everything goes back to normal.
My leg stops bouncing.
I swallow the void I’ve lived with for five years and let it fill with a warmth I didn’t think possible to feel ever again. And I forget the obsessional need I have to speak to my son and make sure he’s alright.
“I trust you not to take unnecessary risks,” I tell her with a shaky voice filled with an emotion I can’t control. And then I make the mistake and look at her.
She’s even more beautiful than the first time I saw her.
I take a moment to appreciate her dimples and the wrinkles grief has sculpted on her face.
Feeling that I’m watching her, she looks back at me for a second and smiles.
It illuminates her face and her eyes fill with appreciation.
As much as I love to feel as if I’ve given her the moon, it breaks my heart.
Has anyone trusted her with her own life since her guy died?
She looks back at the road and squeezes my thigh and the heart I felt falling apart two seconds ago is now beating faster than the throb in my dick.
And for
