Keep Me In | DR3 | BOOK 1

69 - Monaco

you want to talk? lets talk
no more surprises
tonight. 11pm. les jardins.

--

I prepared - no, braced - for the worst. It was the nerves getting the best of me, this much I was conscious of. In fact, it was my preferred way of entering situations in which there was a high chance of me loosing my composure and breaking down entirely. Or a chance that I'd be met with a challenge I wasn't ready to tackle.

One I wasn't done sweeping under the rug. Those crumbs I missed in passing with the broom.

Call it being realistic, or a pessimist, or whatever. But if you looked at it this way, how bad can a situation ever really turn out, if you expect it to end horribly? If you board a plane knowing there was a 99.9% sure chance it would crash, leaving you stranded out in the middle of the ocean.

When you're gathering salty, dampened driftwood mixed in with the silver shrapnel and other various aerial discard, at least you can admit to yourself you knew it would happen. You knew what you were walking into.

On the other hand; if the plane landed, the 0.01% chance of a safe landing coming to fruition with you on board, knowing almost for sure you'd meet your untimely demise?

Well, that would be a cause for celebration. And you'd be left feeling like a million bucks. Because, you'd be the hero walking into the flame and coming out unscathed.

I was quite good at expecting the worst, even though I've learned over the years that the best things have usually come from me being under immense pressure. Being put in an uncomfortable, or unfavourable position. This was why racing always worked out so well for me. It's actually why I feel I was still able to win the F2 Championship back in 2018. I was under some of the worst pressure in my life. It was like someone strapped the Andes mountains on top of me and said, "Hey, you! Move this!"

My gut told me to text Daniel, and my heart screamed at me as soon as I pressed send. My brain was unresponsive, the jiggly pink mush not knowing which side to pick. So it just shut off.

Carlee stayed up with me. Molly tried, though house hunting with Lando had her properly worn out.

She sat, rubbing her belly absentmindedly, not knowing how much she resembled a country fair fortune teller as she looked into the distance and reminded me how I didn't have to go if I really didn't want to. I could text him back and tell him it was a lapse of judgement.

But it wasn't a lapse. I wanted to see him, even if hearing whatever he had to say didn't change our situation at all. Though, part of me hoped it would.

Part of me hoped he'd admit he was wrong for trying to force me to face my demons. That he was ready to be with me, and would take me for who I am now.

But that wasn't what I was bracing for on the seaside walk to the Jardins de Saint-Martin. I was bracing for the worst. For Daniel to demand the truth, then and there. To serve me an ultimatum; I tell him everything, or he'd be gone for good.

Which admittedly, I had already come to terms with the fact that he was gone for good. I love Daniel, and the thought of a life without him burns a piece
of my heart away every time I think about it. Having to move on. Having to see him move on.

So really, the worst part would be hearing him tell me all over again that he's done. And this time, I wouldn't turn on my heel, running with tears streaming down my face. I would stand my ground. I'd pull every ounce of confidence I had out of the bag, and hold my head high. As he made his decision, his lips wrapping around the words "it's over" like a boa constrictor working its prey, I wouldn't wriggle, or put up a fight.