Crash and Burn

Chapter Eighteen

"Babe?"

As she enters the living room, Charles barely looks up from his laptop, where he's been watching tons of videos of the Austrian GP to prepare for the upcoming race. He's been studying and analysing every little scrap of data he could get his hands on, spending hours in meetings with his engineers to make sure the car was as competitive as possible, and that they had a strategy in place for every single situation that could arise on the Spielberg circuit.

Silverstone had resulted in a DNF and it'd been a hard pill to swallow for Charles. He had a lot of pace, closing in on both Redbulls and having one foot on the podium, when his engine had failed. Watching him from the pits as he parked the car on the side of the track had broken her heart and he hadn't been able to hide his frustration, kicking the tyre in defeat and offering one-word answers in a clipped tone as people shoved cameras up his face.

There was nothing he could have done to prevent it, of course. The team had found a bit of solace in the fact that Carlos had ended up on the podium, but Charles was rightly disappointed and upset by the way the weekend had turned out for him. Even more than what he was letting on. So now, here he was, spending every second of every day working his ass off until the Austrian race.

She sighs a little at the sight of him, eyebrows furrowed and a tight smile. He's overstressed, and she wishes she could do something about it.

Her phone dings and she looks down at the notification. "Oh, my dress is ready. I'll go get it today. Is your tux ready or do you need another suit fitting?"

When he doesn't answer, she moves toward the couch, where lines of data she can't even begin to understand are displayed on the screen of his laptop.

"Charles," she repeats softly as he finally looks up. "When are you picking up your tux?" The blank stare on his face makes her giggle. He's cuteーannoyingly soーwhen he's confused. "For the gala."

"What gala?"

She refrains herself from rolling her eyes. "My gala, you know, the one I've been talking about for weeks? It's not like I go to a gala every week like you do, it's literally the work event I need to attend."

It's an important one at that, a golden opportunity to meet people from the publishing sector and new promising authors. A lot of schmoozing and rubbing elbows, in order to make a name for herself as a new freelance editor.

"When is it again?"

"Tomorrow night, like I've told you at least twenty times. It's in your calendar," she states, a bit annoyed now.

"Oh, right...," he says sheepishly, glancing at his phone as it starts vibrating on the coffee table. She makes out Xavi's name, his race engineer, and she grinds her teeth when she realizes she's losing his attention. He could at least pretend to listen to her when she talks.

"So? Your tux?"

"Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna be able to make it... To your thing, I mean."

Her thing. Her good mood shatters and her whole body goes stiff.

"Excuse me?" Her tight voice betrays her hurt. "What do you mean you can't make it?"

He barely even looks at her. She has half a mind to throw the damn laptop out of the window. Or him. Either would do, really.

"I've got a lot of work to do. We only have less than a week now to prepare and we need to get as many points as we can before summer break. The Redbulls are so damn fast in the straights and we think they're gonna bring a new update that weekend. You know how it is, I can't be distracted."