Crash and Burn

Chapter Eight

She's always been aware of what being in the "Wives and Girlfriends F1 Club" really entails. No matter how long you've been together, no matter how much you loved each other, you would always come second to your driver. Racing was their number one priority. Their main focus. She wasn't the first one to get badly burned by that fact, and probably not be the last one either, but it still hurts.

Emily felt angry. Disappointed. Betrayed, in some ways. She'd always been proud of the way they could talk about anything, the good, the bad, the ugly, the non-important stuff. She truly believed it had been one of the strengths of their relationship, but apparently, she'd been wrong. He had hid it all from her and for what? Because he was afraid. Because he didn't trust her. Somehow, that was the part that she had a hard time accepting.

Of course, the reasons he had mentioned for the break up are utter bullshit. Not that she doesn't believe him一she does一, or because she thinks he isn't being honest一he is一, but because he had actually managed to convince himself that this was the right move to make. 'Want to win a championship? Break up with your girlfriend.' She should get that printed in a t-shirt, she'd make a shit ton of money.

Money. Right, she can't afford to put work aside any longer. She picks up her phone, adjusting herself on the bed, wincing as the pain shots up in her body. Scrolling through her emails, she quickly reads through them, putting them in the right folders as she goes, from Spam to P1, which to her meant Priority One. Working from her phone isn't ideal but her suitcase is still in the living room, along with her laptop and she needs a bit of time to reflect on the last days events, without having to face Charles.

For the next two hours, she buries herself into work, catching up on what she's missed. It hasn't always been sunshine and butterflies, especially lately, but she truly loves what she does for a living. Literature had always made her feel happy and safe, and she was lucky enough that it had become such an important part of her life. During her last year of college, she'd found an internship in a small publishing agency and had worked there for two years, learning everything there was to know about the industryーfrom reading manuscripts to spending hours proofreading the final copy of a book, or meeting with the author and marketing team to figure out what the best selling strategy should be.

Her job was challenging but she loved every second of it. She'd recently taken a big risk by becoming a freelancer, which allowed her more freedom in terms of schedule and the authors she wanted to collaborate with. It was tougher than expected, and not something she'd planned on doing so soon in her career but, after her break-up with Charles, she had needed a bit of a challenge. Though, she really missed having a stable, reliable income every month.

She could read dozens of manuscripts a day and never complain, convinced that somewhere buried deep in that never-ending pile of folders in her desk一or on her laptop, since files were mostly digitized now一, there might be a diamond in the rough. She loved meeting new authors, hearing them talk about the stories they wanted to tell, and be the one to support them as they took that terrifying leap of faith and put their work out there. Writers were known for being difficult to work with, but she had grown up surrounded by racing drivers and big egos, so that didn't really phase her anymore. Once you figured out what made them tick, it could truly be awesome. The relationship between an editor and an author was similar to a romantic one: if you had trust, respect and good communication, it would blossom.

The knock on the door startles her and, for a second, she debates getting up. Charles must have been expecting it, since he knocks again, and opens up the door just enough to stick his head into the room.

"Sorry, I didn't know if you were awake or not..."

"It's alright, I was just catching up on some work."