Heard it through the grapevine

Chapter 8

On Sunday, Helena had left Charles' hotel early enough for it to go unnoticed by anyone. He'd still been sleeping, but she'd woken him up by slightly shaking his shoulders, whispering his name in his ear, as to let him know that she was leaving. 

He'd reached out and wrapped a hand around her lower thigh to have her closer to him, and it had given Helena butterflies in her stomach. He quietly mumbled to text him later, once she was back in Monaco and she let him know that she would. She ran her hands through his hair one last time, and he'd quickly fallen back asleep again.

Charles had come back to Monaco on Monday afternoon, and he'd texted Helena pretty much right away. She'd invited him over to her place, and he'd been there within half an hour with dinner from the local Italian down the street. 

She felt like an idiot for needing him close this soon after leaving Zandvoort. But she was scared that she was addicted to the feeling and the butterflies in her stomach every time he looked at her with his intense blue eyes. 

But now here they were, sitting in Helena's kitchen in Monaco eating take away and talking about everything, yet neither of them seemed to mention work or anything Ferrari related. It had been nice for a change. 

"How's your mom doing?" Helena had asked him in the middle of eating. "She's doing great, she mentioned something about seeing your mom the other day actually". Helena's brows furrowed and she looked at him with a quizzical look. 

"My mom? I didn't know they knew of each other." Charles looked at her with a look that said 'come on'. 

"You really thought that two women of their age in Monaco, with such similar lives, didn't know of each other?" When he put it like that, she wasn't sure why she'd assumed otherwise. From what she'd heard from other people and seen online, Charles mom was a lovely woman who always looked out for everyone. The kind of person who immediately offers their help if the notice that you are in need of something. Given how similar their lives had been, both having been widowed within recent years, she imagined they would probably get along pretty well.

Charles was quiet, but Helena could feel him looking at her from the other side of the table. "What is it?" She said, looking up at him, sensing that there was something. She was confused at what was going on. He'd shook his head, chuckling to himself, shooting her a goofy smile in the process. 

"It's nothing, you just have pasta sauce right there." He pointed to the side of her mouth, and she tried to get rid of it but failed. Charles reached his arm across the table, wiping it away with his thumb and sucking it off his own thumb afterwards. He hadn't realised anything until seeing Helena's face blushing. 

She was blushing and potentially looking a little shocked at his actions, thinking it had been rather intimate. "Thank you," she told him, giving him a shy smile. He just told her it was nothing, and they continued eating, as if nothing had happened. 

As they were eating, Helena thought about how this was the first time they were spending time in a non-work and non-Ferrari related setting, and at first, it felt weird seeing Charles standing in the middle of her apartment. It was as if two worlds had collided that were normally kept separate. 

But now, seeing him hunched over her kitchen table, making himself feel at home, it felt completely natural to have him here. He looked comfortable in his grey sweater and linen pants. It wasn't particularly cold outside, but with the amount of time she'd already seen Charles in sweaters, she figured that the heat generally didn't bother him much. She thought that the temperatures now were probably also a lot cooler than the ones he'd experience when sitting in a racing car.