Page 59 of Not So Fast
“I did. Cloud Sports has already aired it.”
“That’s fantastic. What did you talk about?”
“You. F1. My podcast. The usual.”
“Bloody hell. That’s brilliant. Good for you. You’re going places. I tell you.” He shook his head in disbelief, but he was smiling wide. It felt like the sun was shining right on her, which was a pleasant distraction from the sting of hateful social media comments.
“Yeah, well, my fans hate me for it. Some of them at least.” Mia picked up her phone and showed the posts to Xander. “Look.”
“Wankers. The whole lot. They’re just jealous. That’s all that is.”
Mia blew out a cleansing breath. “It pisses me off. Why does everyone think they’re entitled to police me?”
Xander cocked one expressive eyebrow at her. “Welcometo my world. Everyone has an opinion and they’re dying to share it.”
Her gaze was instantly drawn to his. “Like my opinion of you a few months ago?”
He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“One thing to be grateful for is that the internet has basically exploded with the news of Florian and his new girlfriend. So maybe that gave us a reprieve this weekend?”
“I think you might be right. Does that make you more or less likely to say yes when I ask you to stay one more week for Silverstone?”
Mia had wondered if that invitation might be coming. She was thrilled at the prospect. She’d always wanted to attend that race, plus it meant more time with Xander. But even that last part came with a little too much uncertainty—she was attached to him already and just like the situation with her career, she had reason to be optimistic, but there were zero guarantees. “I think I can make that work. I’ll need to record more podcast episodes at your house, of course.”
“Whatever you need.”
“And I’ll need to do laundry.”
“We can make that happen.” He leaned in and kissed her softly. “That’s a good idea, anyway. You’ll want to be presentable when I take you to meet my family.”
“Your family?”
“Well, yeah. We’ve been doing everything else together, we might as well really take the plunge.”
Twelve
What are three things you are exceptionally good at? How can you use these strengths in your daily life?
LOL. The answer should be fairly obvious—overthinking, asking questions and I’d like to think I’m very good at listening. Although if Xander were asked this question, he might say I’m exceptionally good at sucking his cock. As for how I can use those strengths in my daily life, I already do. For example, all I can do right now is ask myself what’s next. Xander and I had a lovely time in Austria and no one figured out we were together. He had a great race and I just recorded a killer episode of Not So Fast. But now what? I have to go home at some point, right? I have to go back to my real life.
“You are not going to believe this, but the media gave Florian and Emma a couple nickname,” Mia announced as she walked into Xander’s living room. “Spoiler alert, it’s atrocious.”
He was sprawled out on the couch, reading. He placed his book on his chest and looked up at her. She marveled at how normal this all had become, the two of them occupying the same space. Somehow it felt real andunreal, all at the same time.
“Don’t tell me.”
“Flemma. Florian and Emma equals Flemma. How terrible is that?”
He sat up. “Wow. That’s about as bad as it could possibly be. God forbid the media treat them like normal people by referring to them as individuals.”
“All famous couples must have their names merged. It’s like a rule.” Mia inched closer to Xander. “So, I’m mystified by British laundry detergent. What’s the difference between Persil and Fairy? I’ll be honest. Fairy sounds way cooler. That’s definitely the direction I’m leaning, but I’m not sure and I’m about to start my laundry.”
“Hold on. I have a few things to go in as well.” He hopped up from the sofa.
“You want to mix our stuff together?” She followed him, noticing how her body registered mild panic.
“We’ve mixed everything else, why not this?” Xander grabbed a canvas drawstring bag he’d had at the motorhome, then began tossing in his dirty clothes, willy-nilly.
