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What future achievements are you working toward? How can you make strides today?

Well, 112 people RSVP’d for my Monaco watch party, so I’m proud of myself for taking steps to keep and grow my listenership. I’m nervous, though. I’ve never hosted more than three people at my apartment. Granted, that’s because I don’t have enough chairs. Note to self: buy better furniture after my next big sponsor deal.

W ith bottle-blond hair and dark roots whipped into a tornado, objectively too much blue eyeshadow and a metallic chrome motorcycle helmet under one arm, Mia’s aunt Judy was the first person through the door of Arena Ale for Mia’s Monaco watch party.

“You’re here!” Mia exclaimed, half out of excitement and half out of surprise. It was seven-thirty on a Sunday morning—there was every reason to expect her aunt to still be in bed.

“Of course I’m here. This is the culmination of years of me indoctrinating you into this sport. I had to come.”

Mia laughed and soaked up all the goodness of her aunt’s warm embrace. Judy’s hugs hit differently than those from Mia’s mother. They came with zero unspoken judgment.

“So? Will my sister be here?” Judy asked, stepping back and wiping her hands on her dark jeans.

“Mom? No. I mean, I invited her, but just to be nice. There’s no way she would come. It combines the three things she hates most in the world—a bar, sports and my podcast.”

“Don’t forget me.” Aunt Judy raised a demonstrative finger. “She hates me most.”

Mia’s heart broke a little more every time she was reminded of this fact. And she’d made zero headway after the Miami GP when trying to urge her mom to mend fences. “ Hate is such an ugly word.”

“But accurate.”

“I love you both, but I’m begging you two to get past whatever caused so much unhappiness.”

“Tell my sister that.”

“She said you weren’t there for her when she needed you.”

“Maybe that’s true. It’s also not my job to do everything she wants me to do.”

Mia hated how much this topic only traveled in circles. It never went anywhere. “You should just show up at her office one day and take her to lunch. Talk it out. Like grown-ups,” Mia suggested.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Judy replied.

A small group of people Mia did not know came through the door, swiping off sunglasses and looking around the bar. In truth, they seemed a bit lost, but Mia knew they were in the right place. One of them wore a Not So Fast T-shirt. Up until that moment, Mia had never seen one out in the wild. This was real—people were coming here to watch the race. But they were also here because of her podcast. Because of her . The sense of pride she felt was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She’d built this on her own, and it was all coming together.

“Are you Mia?” the woman in the T-shirt asked.

“That’s me,” Mia managed, grappling with an abrupt case of nerves.

“You tend to these folks,” Judy said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Help people find their tables? Make sure they know to order with the QR code.”

“I’m on it.”

Mia had never been so thankful for help. Why in the world had she ever thought she could handle this on her own? Five minutes in and she was already feeling overwhelmed.

“You can put your stuff down at our table. We’re up front. You’ll see our names.”

“Don’t worry. It’s a party. Have fun.” Judy started for the front of the room, flirting with one of the waiters as he helped her find a suitable place for her helmet.

Mia turned back to her guests as even more came through the front door. “Welcome, everybody.”

“Oh, my God,” the woman in the T-shirt said with a surprising squeak of elation. “I can’t believe I’m meeting you. Can I give you a hug?”

Luckily, Mia was a big hugger. “Of course. What’s your name?”

“I’m Sam. This is my best friend, Angel. And my boyfriend, Chase.”

The towering man with Sam raised his hand. Yet more people streamed in through the door. A line had formed. People were waiting.

“Your podcast is the whole reason I finally relented and started watching F1,” he said. “I fought it for a long time.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “He’s so stubborn. Can we take a photo together?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Mia didn’t want to be rude, but she glanced at the clock on the wall and realized there was no way she could have this sort of interaction with everyone and work her way through the whole line before the race started. She posed for the photo, even though she did not like having her picture taken, and was starting to feel panicky, then sent Sam and her group to find their table.

More people arrived and now the hallway that led into the restaurant was jam-packed. She should’ve thought this through better. She grabbed a chair from one of the tables and climbed up on it so everyone could see her.

“Good morning,” Mia called between cupped hands. She was not used to commanding attention in person. Most of the time, she was sitting behind her podcasting mic. “Welcome, everyone. I’m Mia—”

That was as far as she got. People started clapping and hooting and hollering. Mia made a mental note to learn how to do one of those cab-hailing whistles. Or at least bring an air horn next time. She waved her hands, waiting for everyone to calm down. Someone near the back of the line shouted, “Shut the fuck up! She’s trying to talk!”

Mia took a deep breath and smiled. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’m super excited about today. But the race starts soon and that’s the main event.”

“No! You’re the main event!” someone interjected.

A nervous laugh left her lips. “Um. Thanks. As I was going to say, everyone has an assigned table. Go ahead and sit and take a look at the menu before the race starts. I’ll come by and say hello to everyone. And we’ll have tons of time to talk after the Grand Prix.”

Thankfully, her guests began filing by as she climbed down from her chair, all while offering kind words.

I just had to tell you that I love you.

You’re so pretty in person. I’m so excited to meet you.

Will I be able to get your autograph later?

Mia smiled and said thank you about one hundred times, feeling overwhelmed. Her mind flew to Xander, how he sometimes had to hide from fans and how it was hard to have any real privacy. Of course, thinking about him only made her heart heavier and her stomach churn. He’d done okay in qualifying, but not great. Not like at Monza. She really hoped he’d have a good race today.

As soon as the crowd filtered into the bar, Mia took a breath and surveyed the scene. There had to be at least thirty people wearing her T-shirt or baseball hat or carrying one of her tote bags. This was officially nuts. And she needed to remember to be thankful. This was what she’d always wanted—a career where she could not only have success, but excitement, too.

She was about to walk up to her table when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see her mother.

“Mom? You came?”

“Well, of course I did. You invited me.”

Oh, this had been a serious misstep on Mia’s part. “Right. Okay. Great.” Mia rubbed her hands together, again glancing at the clock on the wall. She had about five minutes before the formation lap.

She scanned the room. “I guess we need to find a place for you to sit.”

“Where are you sitting? I’ll pull up a chair at your table.”

“Well, things are a little tight over there.”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t take up much space.”

As soon as her mom said it, Judy’s loud and distinctive laugh rang through the bar like someone clanging a cowbell. Across the room, her aunt stood at one of the tables, holding court.

“What is she doing here?”

Judy caught sight of Mia and her mom and strolled toward them.

“I invited her.”

“You invited both of us? Is this some sort of trick? Why would you do this to me?” her mom asked, about as unhappy as Mia had ever heard her.

The guests closest to them were taking note of the disturbance just as Judy walked up to them.

“Amy. Good to see you,” Judy said, waving her hand then folding her arms across her chest.

“Don’t start with me,” her mom said, her tone sharp.

Mia grabbed them both by the arm and did her best to be inconspicuous as she dragged them to the back of the room, away from her guests.

“I love you both, but you cannot do this here. There are people in this room who flew to Austin for this. So you both have to be civil to each other. The race is ninety minutes. You can watch it and keep your mouth shut. Have a mimosa.”

Mia’s mom pursed her lips. “I’m leaving. I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Typical Amy. Always has to play the victim,” Judy said.

“Come on, you two. I’m serious.” Mia wanted to stomp her feet. Now she truly understood what parents with toddlers went through. Except these were grown-ass women.

“It’s okay. I’ll leave. I don’t want there to be drama. I just wanted to be supportive.” Her mom leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Love you, honey.” She sneered at her sister, then walked away. A few seconds later, she was out the door.

Mia exhaled through her nose. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But are you? Really?”

“I am. I don’t want it to be like this. But she’s making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Across the room, Mia saw that the formation lap was starting. “Come on. It’ll look bad if I’m not playing host.” She wound her way between the tables with her aunt behind her. “Is everybody good?” Mia called out. “Everyone excited? Who do we think will take the win today?”

From somewhere in the crowd, someone yelled, “Are you rooting for Xander today, Mia?”

“Sure,” Mia answered, turning to face her guests and feeling put on the spot. “But I root for all the drivers. I know it’s impossible, but I want everyone to have a good race.”

Mia took a seat with her aunt at their tiny table near the front. Up on the screen, the drivers started lining up on the grid.

“I’m so excited to be here,” a woman at the table next to them said. “Thank you for hosting this. It’s so awesome to meet other fans. I can’t wait to talk with you later.”

“Thank you. I’m so glad you came.” Mia smiled and willed herself to relax. This event was a good thing, and she couldn’t let the kerfuffle between her mom and aunt ruin it. Still, she felt overwhelmed by the pressure of everyone wanting a piece of her. The pressure of feeling like she needed to fix things between her mom and aunt.

She looked up at the screen as Xander pulled into his starting position of twelfth place. In a race like Monaco, where it was an immense challenge to overtake on the circuit, twelfth was as good as last.

Part of her hated that she couldn’t be there to support him. Another part of her wondered what in the hell was going on between them since one thing she’d never thought to put on her life’s bingo card was phone sex with Xander Bishop. Unbelievably, they’d done it three times. Mia was getting kinda good at it. Of course, they’d talked a lot, too, about everything from her new T-shirt designs to the interviews he never seemed to want to do. A few times Mia had tried to bring up his troubles on track, but he always changed the subject. He was working on it, he’d said. And who was she to doubt his answer? She wanted to respect his boundaries. She might know a lot about the sport, but she didn’t know what it was like to be Xander Bishop.

“I decided to come back.” Mia’s mom pulled up a chair and sat on Mia’s left-hand side.

Her aunt Judy leaned closer. “Did I ever tell you two that I once had a one-night stand with a Formula One driver? In the late ’90s. Very hot.”

“Oh, good God,” Mia’s mom blurted. “Do you see what I’m dealing with?”

Great. Just fucking great.

Why had Mia ever wished that her mom and aunt could find a way to be in the same room? Also, she had about five thousand follow-up questions for her aunt about that one-night stand, but there was no time for that. The lights above the starting line came on—one, two, three, four, five. Then out. And Mia braced herself for a race during which she was certain anything could happen.

* * *

By lap ten, Mia was juggling too much—trying to play referee between her mom and her aunt, all while watching the race, keeping track of where Xander was, and entertaining her guests. For someone who simply wasn’t super outgoing, this was a lot.

Her mom leaned into her. “I still can’t believe you invited her.”

Mia glanced at her aunt, who might not have heard that, but was probably figuring it out, anyway. “Mom. She introduced me to the sport.”

“And now we know why. She was some sort of race-car driver groupie.”

Some people might call me that, too.

“She listens to the podcast. She’s supportive of what I do. And I think you should talk to her.”

“That’s not happening.”

Mia turned to focus on the TV, something she’d been struggling to do for the entire race. People kept coming up to her and trying to have a conversation. She was incredibly thankful, but it was draining, and Mia knew there would be more of it later.

* * *

“Keep on the offensive, Xander. And mind your tires. If you can,” Xander’s race engineer said.

I can do one or the other, but not both , Xander wanted to scream. “Understood.”

Twenty laps in and his race was sheer misery. Stacked behind other cars. No opportunities to overtake. And a car that was finicky as fuck. Understeer was no longer the problem. Now he was stuck with oversteer. It was like driving on an ice rink. Maybe it was a good thing Mia hadn’t come. He certainly didn’t think he’d have anything to brag about today.

* * *

The announcers hadn’t said anything about Xander in several laps, but Mia could tell from the driver lineup on-screen that he was still in eleventh place. He’d moved up, but only one position, and only because another driver had a reliability issue and had to retire from the race. She was sure he was disappointed. She was sure he was longing. And how could he not? Monza had gone so well. He thought he was on a better trajectory. She stared at the screen, willing something good to happen. He was so close to being in the points and only a few more laps to go.

Come on, Xander. Just one car to pass. It’s Hubbard ahead of you. Piece of cake. You’re such a better driver. I believe in you.

* * *

“Tell me I can do this,” Xander said to his race engineer.

“Keep on Hubbard. You can close the gap in the tunnel. Take him at the chicane.”

Sounded simple enough, but of course, Xander knew it wasn’t that easy. He was about to have his chance, but the opportunity would last only a second or two. If he couldn’t manage the move, he’d have to wait one more lap. And he was running out of laps.

He drew in a deep breath through his nose. Focus. Positivity. Be one with Charles. Let the race come to you. Do what you did in Monza.

The problem was that Monaco was not Monza. It was almost impossible to overtake another car. He took the turn at Massenet a little too tight. It was like he could feel the barrier through the car. That was close. There was no time to lose focus. He took turn four at the casino perfectly. He kept his eyes glued to Hubbard’s rear wing. Through the winding hairpin of Mirabeau. He was right on Hubbard’s ass. So close.

And then. Just like that. He was spinning.

* * *

“Oh, my word!” the TV announcer with his booming British accent proclaimed. “That’s a massive shunt for Xander Bishop! His race is surely over!”

Mia saw it all in slow motion. Everyone in the bar gasped. Mia bolted up out of her seat, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes darting back and forth across the screen. She’d never felt more helpless. Ever. Xander wasn’t moving.

“Are you okay?” his engineer asked as the team radio feed was broadcast on television.

A grunt came in response. Mia knew by now—that was Xander’s grunt. He made similar noises when he was…in the throes of phone sex. She blew out a breath. At least he was alive.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” he finally said.

Mia dropped down into her seat. “Oh, thank God.”

“He’s the driver who flew you to Italy, isn’t he?” Aunt Judy asked.

“Well, that’s it for Xander Bishop’s race today,” the announcer said. “And we’ve got a safety car coming out, which will make things quite interesting when we restart the race. For the moment, the marshals need to get that car out of the way.”

“I’m going to go,” Mia’s mom said. She leaned over and kissed her cheek. “See you later.” In a flash, she was gone. Mia was relieved. And worried sick about Xander.

One of Mia’s guests, wearing a black Not So Fast T-shirt, rushed to her side. With short, white-blond hair and bright green eyes, she was already memorable. “I can’t believe that happened to Xander. I hope he’s okay.”

Mia looked up to see him climbing out of the car. She was filled with the most bizarre mix of feelings—relief that he was okay, but so much worry. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Can I get a photo with you?” the woman asked.

This was the last thing Mia wanted to do. “Uh. Sure. Absolutely.”

“I’m Heather, by the way. I was hoping I could talk to you about something if you have a minute.”

The timing was horrible. All Mia wanted to do was talk to Xander. But she needed to focus on what was right in front of her. After all, Xander was halfway around the world. She couldn’t do anything to help him.

“Sure. What, exactly?”

“I want to start a Not So Fast fan club.”

* * *

Well, fuck.

If that wasn’t a complete kick in the teeth, Xander didn’t know what was. Why did this sport have to be like this? One moment, a glimmer of positivity was in sight. The next, absolute disaster.

He climbed out of the car, feeling mostly okay, except for the absolute rage of frustration that coursed through his body. He wanted to punch something. Or at the very least, toss back a stiff drink. For now, he had to walk back to the garage while everyone else on track continued their race. There would be a winner and drivers who earned points today, but it wouldn’t be him.

When he got back to the garage, he stopped to talk to the Mega Racing team principal, Jaime Newton.

“I think that was bad luck, but we’ll look at the data,” he said. “Hopefully, the car isn’t too bad off.”

Xander knew the undercurrent of the comment—it was most likely that Xander had made a mistake on track, and even an accident that wasn’t too bad could still end up costing the team hundreds of thousands, not to mention countless hours in repairs back at the factory.

What an absolute shit show.

He met with the medical team, which cleared him after the concussion protocol, then he went back to his driver’s room to decompress. He nearly lunged for his phone the moment he glimpsed it, but to his great disappointment, there was no text from Mia. He was positive she’d been watching the race—her watch party was the entire reason she’d declined to come to Monaco. Unless she was merely being nice about it and didn’t want to come. He didn’t think that was what was going on, but doubts crept in so easily after a bad day on track.

Hey. Terrible race, obviously. I’m relatively unscathed though. Would love to chat when you have the chance.

He sent the text, then stared at the screen for quite some time, willing her to respond. “Mia. Darling. Come on…”

A knock came at his door. “Xander. It’s Isabel. Race is over, so I need to take you over to media.”

Xander groaned and got up from his seat, opening the door just a crack. “Maybe I just pay the fine for a no-show. I crashed. Tell them I haven’t been cleared by medical yet.”

“Medical already announced you were cleared. You have to go. No one is going to blame you for that shunt.”

“The naysayers will. And so might Jaime. And the sponsors. And every mechanic who has to rebuild the car.”

Isabel carefully looked down the hall in both directions. “Come on, now. Put on your big-boy pants. Let’s get this over with.”

Xander grabbed his team baseball hat, tucked his phone into the pocket of his suit and dutifully joined Isabel as they went to the media pen. She followed along as his minder, recording every question and answer so no newspaper or magazine could ever misquote him without being called on it. Honestly, Xander struggled to stay in the moment as he answered question after question about whether his season would improve or even continue. It felt like his career was collapsing. His dream was evaporating into nothing. And the person he most wanted to talk to about it—Mia—was nowhere to be found.

“Do you think there’s any chance the team will replace you this year?”

How the fuck was he supposed to answer that? He didn’t know what he didn’t know. But if he had to place a bet on it, the chance was certainly there.

“The team and I are working incredibly hard to turn things around. Today was just a bit of bad luck.”

“What exactly happened before the crash, Xander?”

He didn’t know the answer to that, either. It simply happened. One hundredth of an inch too far into the corner and it was all over.

“We’ll have a look at the data and the onboard to see precisely what happened. I don’t want to make any assumptions.”

This continued for at least another twenty minutes, all while the drivers around him were talking about the race they’d managed to finish. That included Dirk, who’d had another great points finish and hadn’t so much as asked if Xander was okay after his shunt.

Meanwhile, Xander couldn’t help but notice that his phone was not buzzing. Mia was not texting him back. Had he misread what was happening between them? They’d had so many intimate phone calls… But maybe he’d been all wrong. He and romance weren’t a great mix. He always managed to bungle it. He’d always put driving first, and although he still didn’t regret that choice, he could admit it put him at a disadvantage in any sort of romantic relationship.

He and Isabel were on their way back to his room when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. A text from Mia. An emoji-filled, panicky, wordy text about the accident. Followed by I thought I sent that an hour ago. I didn’t hit Send! OMG! I’m so sorry. Can you talk?

“I need to make a call. If you don’t mind.” He clutched the phone to his chest.

“Someone special?” Isabel asked.

“No,” he answered, a little too defensively. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re smiling, Xander. And there’s nothing to smile about today.”

His face went dry and hot like pavement in the sun. “Leave me. Please.”

“Of course.”

Xander ducked into his room, closed the door behind him and dropped down onto the couch, fumbling his phone, but managing to place the call.

“Oh, my God, Xander. Are you okay?” Mia asked, seeming frantic.

“I am.” He exhaled and sank back on the couch. He deeply disliked the fact that he’d questioned whether she cared. Clearly, she did, on some level. “So much better now. Hearing your voice is nice.” In truth, it was a salve for his ragged nerves.

“I am so sorry about the text. I typed it right after the accident. I thought I hit Send.”

“I didn’t see the three dots, so I wasn’t sure.”

“I think those only stay on your phone for sixty seconds. Which is great for me. It makes me nervous to think I’m building anticipation with someone by typing a message.”

He laughed quietly. Only Mia would think that way. “It’s okay. No worries.”

“I could’ve sworn I hit Send. But there were so many people at the watch party and they were all trying to talk to me. Honestly, it was a big blur.”

“It means a lot that it was your first instinct to text me. Even if it didn’t work out that way.”

“You’re sure you’re okay? You’re not hurt? Tell me everything.”

He was such a bloody fool to worry about Mia’s concern for him. There it was, plain as day.

“Pretty run-of-the-mill shunt, honestly. And I’m not hurt since the car went into the barrier sideways. If it had been a front or back end collision, it would’ve been much worse.”

“I’m so sorry. You were so close to scoring points. I could tell you were trying to get past Hubbard. I really thought you could get him at the chicane.”

He had to laugh. Half a world away, she knew precisely what had been happening on track. “I thought I could, too. But that’s this sport. One minute you’re up, the next you’re out.” Of course, it was more like one minute he was in the middle of the pack and the next minute he was sucking rocks. “Tell me about your event. How did it go?”

“People are still here. I ducked outside for a minute so I could talk to you. I probably need to go soon.”

“Good turnout?”

“Amazing. We ended up with a fantastic crowd. The bar is super happy. They sold a ton of food and drinks. And I got talked into doing another event on the Wednesday of Austin race week.”

“ We ended up with a fantastic crowd? Weren’t they there for you, Mia? Didn’t you end up with the crowd?”

She sighed. “It’s so weird , Xander,” she pleaded. “People were wearing the T-shirts I designed. They wanted to take pictures with me. They asked me for my autograph. I’m nobody. One woman is starting a Not So Fast fan club. How does this even make any sense?”

“And to think it all started because you told everyone I was driving with my dick in my hand.”

“Oh, God. I’ll never live that down, will I?”

Xander laughed. “I don’t want you to live it down. I love that you owned it that first time I met you. I want you to keep owning it. It’s done fantastic things for you, darling. You should run with it as far as you care to go.”

“Darling?”

Xander was surprised he’d let that slip. But it had. “Well, now you know how I feel.”

“That’s sweet. So sweet. Especially in your adorable accent.”

“Some people think I sound pompous.”

“Not me.”

Quiet fell between them and he felt such a profound ache right in the center of his chest.

“Can I tell you something, Mia?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“I want to see you. Desperately.”

“I want to see you, too.”

He sucked in a deep breath and wondered if what he was about to say was the right thing. “Come to England. I have ten days until the race in Austria. We can spend time together. We can get to really know each other.”

“Get to know each other through talking? Or is this more of a transatlantic booty call?”

“There will be talking. Of course. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want a second chance at that kiss.”

She was quiet on the other end of the line, ramping up his nervousness. It wasn’t easy to put himself out there when he already felt like he couldn’t get anything right.

“It’s okay to tell me no. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I can probably only come for a few days.”

“I understand. You’re busy.”

“And we need to keep this quiet. Some of my listeners were not happy when they found out you paid for my trip to Monza. They expect me to be a regular fan like them.”

Xander wanted to say she shouldn’t care what other people thought or said, but he lived in the public eye, too. He knew it wasn’t that simple. Still, he might have to point out, eventually, that she wasn’t just a fan. Not anymore.

“I understand. We’ll keep a low profile. For both our sakes.”

“Okay, then. When should I come?”

“Can you leave tomorrow? You’d land in England Tuesday morning. Does that work?”

“Sure. I can do that.”

He wasn’t entirely sure of the timeline he’d suggested, since he would need to race home from Monaco and get the house ready for a visitor. But he was prepared to stay up all night to make that happen. A jolt of energy coursed through him. The prospect of seeing her soon gave him something to look forward to.

“Brilliant. I’ll book your ticket as soon as we get off the phone.”