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I glance down at my phone and see I have a text from Piper in merchandising. Ooh, this might be about the logos I requested. I tap it open:

Hi, Catherine! I’ve attached the logo files. Sorry I didn’t do this yesterday—I was at the pop-up event in Milan and totally forgot. I’m sorry! Please let me know if you need anything else!

Excellent! I brought one of the outfits I got this week in Monaco, and I want to size and print the logo and play with placement on the garments. Then I’ll take some pictures to show an embroiderer as an idea of what I want.

I also see I have a message from my mum:

Surprise, Catherine! I’m going to be in Monza this weekend!

WHAT? Mum didn’t say anything about attending Monza! She told me she was going to meet us in Azerbaijan in two weeks!

I text her back:

This IS a surprise! I had planned to see you in London next week and then Baku. Is Dad coming with you?

Mum is typing …

No, sweetie, Dad is staying in London. I miss my kids. I want to see my daughter. I will be there tonight in time for the sponsor dinner at the hotel. And I intend to pin both of you down for a chat this weekend.

My radar is up as I stare at her message. Is there a reason why Dad isn’t coming with Mum?

As soon as I think it, I see once again how the past has created that barrier of distrust. Before, I would worry about a comment like this, when it could be as simple as Dad having something else to do. But even if he doesn’t? It’s up to Mum and Dad to navigate their own relationship. It’s none of my business.

Just like I want them to trust me to navigate mine once they know about Mason.

Whoa. I feel like I’ve taken a big step forward. Is it because of my conversation with Mason and hearing his thoughts about how I view my relationship with Mum? Or because I’m beginning to see someone, and now, I’m the one who will have to keep some secrets? Because I’m realising not everything is so clean and tidy as we’d like to think it is?

Hmm. I’m not sure. But it’s growth either way, and I’m proud of it.

I message her back:

Then I will look forward to seeing you tonight at the dinner.

I lift my head, resolution filling me. This is not the Monza weekend I had planned, but I’ll make the best of it. Mum will get my time during the dinner. That’s fair, and it’s not like I can spend a lot of time with Mason anyway. First, he will be busy meeting and greeting our top-level sponsors. Second, it would be strange if I hung out with him all night, and it could give people something to gossip about.

I will also spend time with Mum in the motorhome before the race and in the garage after I’ve done all my duties for Caleb. Like making sure he makes it on time for the anthem on race day, I think. There are fines if you are late, and he’s had to sprint to it more than once to avoid that penalty.

I have to stop thinking about Mum’s messages as some high-level sponsors are brought into the garage, and I’m pulled into visiting with them. Our partnership team manages the guest experiences, and I will always talk with them if I’m available. I share some family stories and behind-the-scenes information, and I know it adds value to their time in the garage, which I like. After all, these supporters are everything to Collings Motors. I want them to be pleased—and proud—of their sponsorship.

I look at my phone. It’s nearly time for Caleb and Mason to hit the track. They get an hour of practice time with this session, then again at five. They’ll go to the media pen for interviews after FP2—a time Caleb always loves—and then it’s time to get ready for the sponsor event.

Just as I glance up, Mason is making his way over to the cubicle in the wall that holds his driver’s gear. I watch as he slips his Driver Comms into his ears for radio communication, then pauses, rakes his hand through his hair a few times, and pulls the balaclava over his head, which protects his head and face from fire. Lastly, he puts on the special helmet he’s wearing for Monza this weekend, with Italian flag colours on top of his silver helmet, painted in a modern art design.

Mason’s visor is up, and before he turns and walks to his car, his eyes lock with mine, unwavering as he looks at me. I feel electricity run straight through me, and then I see his eyes crinkling up in the corners.

He’s smiling underneath that helmet.

He’s smiling for me.

Mason turns and climbs into his car, and his team quickly goes to work to get him situated. Caleb comes over to his cubicle next, going through the same preparation process. I flick my gaze to the monitors in the garage and look at the one showing Mason. He’s got cooling fans on him in the car, and he’s pulling on his black driving gloves now. I put on my headphones so I can hear the conversation between the race engineer and the driver.

And for once, I’m not going to listen to Caleb talk. I’m going to listen to Mason.

His car is humming now. A mechanic signals him to leave the garage, and he pulls out, heading down pit lane to the track entrance.

“Radio check, Mason,” Zach says.

“Yep, good,” he says.