Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Her words drift and she scrunches her face as if she isn’t quite sure what we’re free to do. It’s adorable. “You and I are free to start our lives together,” I say.
Lara blinks, mouth dropping slightly open. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means we’re together, and we’ve got a lot of stuff to figure out. I have at least one race a month, eleven months of the year. Some months I have three races. I travel all over the world. I have homes in Zurich and Monaco, but I’m never in one of them for long. Which means I live out of hotels—albeit luxurious hotels—and it’s not a very stable life if you want to settle down somewhere.”
Her teeth press down into her lower lip as she considers. “Are you asking me to travel with you?”
“Yes,” I exclaim with a little too much vigor, but she’s finally getting it. “Yes, I’m asking you to travel with me. To be with me. However it works. However we make it work.”
Her eyes search mine, wide and blinking like she’s trying to wrap her head around the speed of it all. “This is wild.”
“I know,” I say, stepping closer, threading my fingers through hers. “But Lara… we’ve been in each other’s lives forever. This isn’t some whirlwind stranger romance. You know me. I know you. And somewhere along the way, this stopped being just history and became everything I want.”
She softens at that—her eyes, her shoulders, her breath.
“You don’t have to say it back,” I add quickly. “But I love you. I mean… I’ve always loved you because you’re one of my best friends and like family, but this is a different type of love. It’s the kind where I want to make our lives together.”
Lara’s eyes well, but she doesn’t blink away the tears. “You’ve always been my person,” she whispers. “Always. And yeah, I’ve loved you for years too—it was just filed under friendship and I never questioned it.”
My throat tightens as she lifts our joined hands and presses her lips to my knuckles.
“I love you,” she says, eyes steady on mine. “And I don’t know what our life looks like or how it works, but I want it. Whatever it is. I want it with you.”
Relief floods me so hard I feel it in my knees. I pull her into my arms and kiss her—slow and sure, the kind that seems like a promise kept.
“We’re doing this,” she murmurs against my mouth.
“We’re so doing this,” I whisper back. “You and me. No matter where the road takes us.”
CHAPTER 21
Lara
It’s not that I didn’t like Monaco—it was lovely and quite opulent. But if I had to pick between it and Zurich, this beautiful city wins hands down. I pressed my face to the passenger-side window watching everything go by as we drove to Reid’s apartment. The streets are charmingly cobbled, the buildings timeless but not showy, and everything moves at a quieter pace.
It’s like this city has nothing to prove and for whatever reason, I’m more grounded, more peaceful, more home.
The people are different too. In Monaco, everyone looked like they were ready for a magazine cover—glamorous, styled, always performing for the next photo or VIP invitation. Here in Zurich, it’s simpler. The elegance is quieter. People walk to work with fresh flowers tucked under their arms or stop at cafés in wool coats and worn leather shoes. They’re not trying to be seen—they just are, and that appeals to me very much.
“From my apartment balcony,” Reid says as we enter his building, “you can see the Limmat River and beyond that, the Alps, but only on clear days.”
His tone is one of excitement and connection, which tells me he likes Zurich better too.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Reid’s home, but when we step inside, I stop just past the doorway.
The apartment is nothing like the sleek, modern edges of Monaco. It’s old-world beautiful—high ceilings with exposed beams, hardwood floors aged to a deep walnut, arched doorways trimmed with carved moldings. A wall of arched windows overlooks the city. Between the rooftops, I can see the Limmat River, the thick window glass framed by gauzy linen drapes. Bookcases flank the living room fireplace, the shelves filled with everything from technical racing manuals to weathered paperbacks.
A worn leather chair is draped with a Matterhorn hoodie. A half-finished puzzle occupies a portion of the dining table. There’s a motorcycle helmet on a sideboard and a single clean coffee mug resting near a drip coffee pot. This isn’t the polished display of Monaco. It’s lived-in and is more like Reid than Monaco could ever be.
I’m immediately comfortable.
“What do you think?” he asks, wheeling our suitcases to the bedroom.
“I love it,” I say honestly. “It’s… real.”
He shoots me a smile over his shoulder, setting our bags just inside the door. “Glad you approve. I definitely prefer Zurich to Monaco, but honestly the tax benefits are too good to give up my place there.”