Yet she’s still anxious for me.
“There was an unexpected hairpin turn. It was sharp. To the right. Came up on me so quickly, I took it too fast and spun the fuck out. He pulled past me and won. He was going slower because he knew that turn was there and I didn’t. He knew he couldn’t take me on a straightaway. I was fucking good, Charlotte. So good. Until that race. It messed with my confidence. I gave up after that.”
“Were you hurt?”
“Just—scared.” It was hard to admit that. How terrifying that moment was. How my life flashed before my eyes when I lost complete control of the car. Like an idiot, I worried first for the Chevelle.
Then I worried for me.
“How about the car?”
“It had some minor body damage.”
She frowns. “How come?”
“I swung the back end into a pole. A streetlight.” Once that happened, and after Ernie won the race, everyone bailed. Even my own team. No one wanted to get busted by the police. I couldn’t blame them for scattering like cockroaches, but damn.
I had to deal with the repercussions that night all alone. I couldn’t even call my family. I didn’t want to freak them out or worry about me. More than anything, I didn’t want any of them to give me a lecture and tell me what to do.
“Was the damage bad?”
“Fixable.” The server appears with our dinner and I make conversation with the guy, needing the distraction.
I don’t like thinking about that night, and what happened.
It reminds me that I’m mortal. And that’s the last thing I want to remember.
Chapter Seventeen
Charlotte
Perry was quietfor the rest of our dinner. Not necessarily in a bad mood, but rather pensive. In his head. He didn’t eat much but drank plenty and seeing him like this made me lose my appetite too.
My husband isn’t feeling so great. I can see it in his eyes, and the faint strain around his mouth. The tightness of his jaw. Telling that story about his racing days put him in a foul mood and that is the last thing I want for our last night here.
But there’s no getting him out of it. I try to joke. I try to flirt. I fail miserably at both things, and eventually, I give up. I may think I know him, but I don’t. Not fully. We still have a long way to go before I can feel confident around this man.
On the walk back to our villa, I contemplate the many ways I could possibly seduce him. Something I’ve never really done before, but I’m willing to put myself out on a limb for my husband. So far, everything I do he seems to like. Even when he’s furious with me, he still wants me, which is kind of hot.
Twisted and a little sick, but still hot.
He’s not mad at me tonight though. He’s lost in his memories and quiet. Maybe even a little bit down. I refuse to be one of those women who asks,what’s wrong?That gets you nowhere. I’ve witnessed that enough between my parents, when my mother would repeatedly ask my father that question until he finally blew.
No, thank you.
Someone needs cheering up though.
I reach for Perry’s hand, interlocking our fingers and he doesn’t let go. I sway our locked hands so our arms swing and he glances over at me, his brows lowered. “You okay? A little drunk maybe?”
I shake my head, deciding to be truthful. “Trying to cheer you up.”
“I’m in a shit mood, huh.” He squeezes my hand.
I squeeze back. “A little.”
“I don’t like thinking about that night.”
I appreciate his honesty, and I feel bad too.