“Yes, but I’m the one who has been living at home because covering high school tennis tournaments doesn’t pay the bills,” I remind her. “You’ve been a legit adult since you graduated, with your own apartment.”
“I would have lived at home with my parents if it meant moving to London and going to Monte Carlo for work.”
“Yes, but you hate motorsports.”
“I’ve reconsidered since I watched the race this past weekend.”
I snort. “Wrong. You’ve reconsidered since you saw Xavier Williams.”
“I stand behind my change of heart. Along with his millions of fans on the World Wide Web.”
“World Wide Web? Did you really just say that?” I laugh.
She shrugs. “I felt like bringing out a nostalgic term nobody uses anymore.”
“Watch him inLights Out, that racing reality show. They have lots of good footage of him. Although Caleb warned me alot of the content is, quote, ‘rubbish’ and played up for dramatic effect.”
Hadleigh quirks a brow. “So lots of hot footage of Xavier, with bonus fake drama?”
“Yes.”
“I think I have a new series to binge,” she declares wickedly. Then I spot that mischievous look in her eyes. “What about Caleb? Do they have good footage of him?”
“Footage? Yes. Good interview material from him? Nope.”
Then a thought hits me. Oh crap. Once it gets out that we are dating, we could be a whole freaking subplot for the show.
Fabulous.
“He doesn’t seem to do good interviews for anyone else unless they are namedIsla,” Hadleigh says.
I feel my face grow warm.
“But seriously, Isla? What an amazing new adventure you’re about to go on. I’m jealous. But I’m so happy for you because you’ve worked so hard for this.”
“Some people will say Caleb did it for me,” I remind her.
“You said it yourself. He opened doors, but you were the one who not just walked through them, but kicked them down with your talent. Who cares what they say? The Downforce Network gave you a contract. What some troll online thinks about that doesn’t matter.”
She’s right. It doesn’t matter.
I look over at the peonies on my nightstand. It’s time to take a chance on something that does matter, even if I have to risk everything I’ve gotten so far to do it.
Which means boarding a plane tomorrow night for France.
And seeing a certain F1 driver in Monte Carlo on Thursday night.
Chapter Sixteen
This is one of the most incredible places I’ve been in my life.
I stand in front of the historic Casino de Monte-Carlo, simply staring at it. The Belle Époque facade of the building is iconic, and it beckons with a promise of nothing but opulence to follow once you step inside its hallowed doors. Palm trees rustle with the breeze coming in off the Mediterranean Sea, and the temperature is a perfect sixty-five degrees. Luxury cars are parked in front, and I watch as a gorgeous woman in designer clothing leaves her car with the valet.
As I turn to the left, I see the famous Café de Paris, where people sit outside under umbrellas, eating or sipping coffee, with petunias tumbling out of flower boxes along the terrace railing. To my right is the posh Hotel de Paris, which overlooks Casino Square. And when I turn around and face the front of Casino Square, I’m provided a sweeping view of the breathtaking Maritime Alps.
I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that this is my life.
Yesterday I boarded a plane in Miami. Today I landed in France.