Page 96 of Downforce

Save for a handful of times after that collision between Travis and I, she’s always been nothing short of cordial.

“Pretty well, Mrs. Townsend. I hope you’re enjoying Monaco.”

“I certainly am. One of my favorite places outside of home. Mainly because two of my favorite people live here.” Her loving gaze falls on Annalise.

Pure love shines in her eyes for her daughter.

“Mom,” Annalise says, her tone somewhere between a scold and a whine.

“What? You know I hate how far you and your brother live away from home.” She holds her hands up in defense. “I know. I know. You have to be here for your careers. And now with Lucky and Alyssia, our family is growing and you’re all so far away. Maybe your father and I should⁠—”

“Okay, well,” Annalise cuts her mother off, “I have a few more things to do before I can head out to an early dinner with you guys.”

“And you, Max?” Her mother’s gaze skirts over to me. “Would you like to come to dinner with the family?”

“What?” Annalise asks.

“Really?”

Mrs. Townsend throws her a confused look. “He’s your brother’s teammate.”

“Rival,” Annalise corrects.

I spot the tension in Annalise’s voice, and though I want to say yes just to get her reaction, I don’t want to be an added source of tension for her right now.

“Thank you for the invitation but I have plans with my family this evening.”

Mrs. Townsend’s smile widens, and for a second I think she’s going to tell me to invite my family along but she doesn’t.

“Maybe another time?” The invite sounds genuine.

“Definitely,” I agree, ignoring the panicked look Annalise throws my way. Though I plan on asking her about it later.

Someone from Amato calls Annalise, which has her telling her mother she’ll meet her out in a half an hour to leave for the day. Her mother gives me another look before wishing me luck in the race and heading back to the front of the paddock.

A huff of laughter escapes me when I think that Travis’ mother has shown more grace toward me over this race than my own mother. One would think that as the years pass, things like that wouldn’t get to me.

At least that’s what I tell myself as I leave the paddock, cap brought down low on my forehead and a plain white button-up and trousers, with the hope that no one will recognize me. I’ve always known that the country becomes swarmed with fans, teams, and sponsors and businesspeople looking to connect their brand to one of the F1 teams, among other people during race weekend.

But living here and seeing the difference from the normal day-to-day life to race weekend is eye-opening. I know many who live in Monte-Carlo throughout the year but leave during the Grand Prix to avoid the crowds.

Wish I could.

The thought comes to me as I wind my way around the busy streets, keeping my head tucked to avoid eye contact.

“Excuse me,” I say as I bump shoulders with an older man. I reflexively reach for him when he stumbles.

When he looks up at me, his eyes widen and my stomach plummets.

“Are you⁠—”

“Hotel worker.” I dip my head in the direction of the hotel behind us.

“Right.” He nods. “Right. Thought you were someone else.”

“Happens all of the time.”

After that exchange, I decide to stay off of the main roads and find myself winding my way through the streets that take me to higher ground, walking for hours. It’s not the smartest thing to do the night before qualifying but the last place I want to go is my flat.