Domi and Nicolette have been staring at my computer screen for the past few minutes, looking through the photos of the apartments I’ve chosen. They both have a sad look on their face, but we all know it’s time I move out. The only reason I stayed was to make sure Jean was okay, and he is.
I need my own space where Valentina and I can have privacy, where I can finally have that art studio I’ve always dreamed of. With the baby on the way, they will need my room to convert into a nursery anyway.
“You sure this is what you want?” Domi asks, a tear slipping down her cheek. I wipe it away and take her hand in mine.
“I’m sorry it has to be now, but we all know it’s for the best,” I say, and Nicolette gives me a reassuring smile.
She’s been on my ass to move out for a year now, telling me to live my life and stop worrying about everyone else. This will be easier for her than for Domi.
“But, what if we need you to help out with the baby? You won’t be here,” she points out, and I feel worse than I did before when more tears stream down her face.
“I’ll always be here, Domi,” I promise, and she stands up to hug me.
“He’s moving ten minutes away from us, Dominique, it’s not the end of the world,” Nicolette says, earning herself a frown from her wife.
“He’s my little racer,” she says, and I smile at her.
She’s called me that since I was ten years old, when she met me for the first time at a karting race. Damn… that was a long time ago. The realization almost makes me shudder.
“It’s going to be hard not to have him here when he isn’t away winning Grand Prixes.” She settles down on her chair again, letting Nicolette hug her.
“I know, ma colombe, but he needs his space, and we can use his room for the baby,” she says, kissing Domi’s cheek and rubbing her stomach. “It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Nicolette adds with a smile that reveals how happy she is.
I shut my laptop and push it to the side, settling down in the seat across from them.
“Alright, baby names. What have you got so far?” I ask to change the subject.
Their faces light up, and we spend the next hour or so discussing what would fit best in our family. Eventually, Nicolette stands up to braid Domi’s coily hair, something she’s trying to get better at, and I make them a cup of tea.
“What about, if it’s a boy, Maxime Guillaume,” Domi suggests, and a pain shoots through my chest.
It’s been a while since I’ve heard my father’s name.
“If it’s a girl, maybe we could name her Vivienne Juliette,” she goes on, and I fight the urge to walk away from this conversation.
Vivienne was my grandmother’s name, Juliette my mother’s. What Domi is trying to do is wonderful and kind, but it rips my heart into several pieces. More pain crosses me, and I struggle to breathe.
“Those are perfect,” I reply and get up, grabbing my phone to dial the number of the only person that can put my heart back together right now. “I have to get some work done, but I’ll speak to you both later.”
I kiss their cheeks before sprinting upstairs and shutting my bedroom door. The phone rings against my ear, and she picks up soon, her soft voice coming through the speaker.
“Bonsoir, mon soleil. Est-ce que je te manques?” she asks, and I enjoy the way the French falls from her lips.
“I do, I miss you more than anything,” I reply, the grip on my phone tightening as I try to calm my heart.
It’s getting more difficult to be apart from her, especially since the last time we were together was almost a week ago. I tried to visit her, but I had to do some photoshoots for the new sponsor my team got.
“I miss you the same, Gabriel, but I can hear there’s something else bothering you. Do you want to tell me about it?” Valentina asks, and I realize for the millionth time I’m going to marry her.
One day, I will put a ring on her finger because she’s the love of my life, and nothing will ever change my mind.
“Domi and Nicolette were choosing baby names, and they decided on some that honor the family we’ve lost. I don’t know why it hurt me.” The control she has over me is dangerous. I’d never share this with anyone who isn’t Val because it’s too personal.
“I can’t hear any name of the people I’ve lost without feeling pain. If I had to hear it every day… the thought would hurt me too,” she says, and I sink to the floor, holding onto my knees while I listen to her soothing voice. “But I think it would also help me move on, in a way. The name would be given a different meaning, a happier one. It could be beautiful,” Val adds, and I can sense the hint of a smile on her lips.
“When are you coming home?” I ask because I’m starting to feel homesick.
With my schedule, I won’t be able to fly out and see her, but I’m hoping Valentina will be back in a few days.
“I don’t know, mon amour. Andrea is pushing us past our limits since they have to decide who to give the spot to in a couple of weeks. Tomorrow we’ll be setting our final simulator times, which they will use when they make the decision.” Nervosity slips through in her voice, making it crack with the last word.
“You’ve been kicking Christian’s ass for the last four weeks, ma chérie. You got this.” And I have no doubt she does.
The day he gets the seat over her is the day Adrian can walk past a mirror without fixing his hair and admiring himself.
“I hope so, but there are more categories I have to beat him in, one isn’t enough,” she reminds me, and I nod before realizing she can’t see me.
“You were born to be an F1 driver, tournesol. One way or another, it will happen,” I reply, and she sighs into the phone.
“Never stop dreaming with me, okay?” she asks, and I smile to myself, standing up and walking over to my bookshelf to look for something to distract my mind once she hangs up.
“It’s not a dream, it’ll be reality, and I need you to start believing it too,” I say, almost scolding her.
Val laughs into the phone, the soft sound sending another wave of homesickness over me. My heart misses her, my head misses her, my entire existence misses her.
“I will believe it when it happens, not a moment before,” she says, shutting down any further discussion on this subject. “Now, tell me, how is the apartment hunt going?” she asks, shifting our focus to a lighter topic.
“Pretty good. I’ve found a few places I like, but we need to see them together when you’re back,” I explain, grabbing one of the books I bought for Valentina.
“Why? You want to put me in different positions there and see if it looks good?” she teases, and I can’t hold the chuckle back.
“Come on, baby, we both know you could make a dumpster an appealing place to live for me if you spread your legs on top of it,” I reply, making her go silent for a brief moment.
“I’m going to ask Andrea when we next get the chance to go home. I hate this distance,” she says, and I click my tongue in response.
“It won’t be like that for much longer, you’ll see.”
My optimism is probably annoying her, but I can’t turn it off anymore. Valentina is so close to getting everything she’s worked for her entire life.
“I’m going to read one of your new books tonight,” I say when she doesn’t respond.
“Read it to me?” she asks, which is exactly what I was hoping she’d say. The only reason I picked it up was to hear this question.
“Always, chérie.”
