By the end of the race, Penelope's nerves were shot.
Sitting in the paddock, surrounded by mechanics and team bosses as they cheered and gasped at each corner, Penelope had never felt so out of place. As Charles battled with Verstappen for first, it dawned on her just how much things between them had changed recently. Last race, she'd relished in the thrill of the danger, but now she just wanted him to come back to her in one piece. It was scary, to be so attached to a person and have to watch them put their life on the line every time they let go of your hand.
There was one corner in particular, somewhere towards the end of the race, where she shut her eyes completely. She'd heard what had happened yesterday during qualifying, the big crash that had scared even the other drivers, and truthfully she wasn't sure what she'd do if it was Charles in that car, buried in the wall. She wasn't a religious person, but there wasn't a minute during that hour and a half where Penelope didn't pray. She remembered the ritual her grandmother did to this day before Penelope went out on the ice for a competition or showcase. A prayer, a kiss on her forehead, a blessing. For years, Penelope had given her a coy smile, telling her that everything would work out just fine. After all, she'd never been afraid of the ice. It had never felt dangerous to her, despite the training and the warnings and the injuries of the past. Skating had always just been her job, something she loved, as natural to her as walking down the street. How she wished she could go back to how things were before.
That's the thing though, isn't it. Things don't feel scary until you have something to lose.
"Ay, no!" Mattia complained, spitting out a curse she couldn't understand. "Redbull over took us."
"There's still time!" one of the advisors insisted, but Mattia didn't look convinced. Penelope tried to pay attention to all the technical words he spewed next, but she was so nervous that even simple Spanish wouldn't have made sense to her. Her eyes were trained on the track, watching as the cars flew past one by one.
When they finally crossed the finish line and saw the chequered flag, the paddock was full of mixed emotions. Charles had come in second, which meant podium and a good set of points to help him in the Championship, and Carlos had come in third. It was good news, of course it was, but she couldn't help but get the sense that they were disappointed. They had the ability to be winning races, but this week it just wasn't meant to be.
As for Penelope, she finally felt like she could breathe again. Her intern from earlier helped her to the front of the red crowd, waving as Charles pulled himself out of the car. He hugged his mechanics as they patted him on the back, congratulating him on a good effort and, of course, an all important podium. Carlos gave him a big bear hug, the two of them able to share the moment as friends as well as teammates.
Penelope clapped and smiled as Charles looked up, his eyes scanning the crowd. Finally, they settled on her and his expression brightened, his hug tight as he made his way to the barrier to embrace her. They kissed as soon as removed his helmet, his cheeks flushed and his skin warm.
"Sorry I didn't win," he said, squinting in the sunlight. "I was so close!"
"Don't be stupid," she scolded, pushing back a few strands of his hair as he smiled at her like she was the only person on the entire track. "You're always a winner to me."
Charles kissed her again as people called his name, organisers trying to get the drivers to their next conference. A woman armed with a clipboard and an earpiece was waving him over, pointing in the direction of the pits. Penelope gave his chest a soft nudge, indicating for him to go.
"I'll find you," he promised, letting his fingers slip from hers.
Penelope nodded as she waved him off, watching him fondly as he jogged to catch up with the others. All this still felt so new to her, like she was a toddler just getting to grips with how to walk. Ultimately, all she wanted was for Charles to be happy. She knew how badly he wanted this win, and how he'd beat himself up about not getting it. They were similar in that regard, too critical of themselves even at the height of their success. She didn't want that to cast a shadow over this moment for him. This year was going to be big for Ferrari, and he deserved to enjoy the highs without getting caught up in the lows.
Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Come, Penelope," Mattia jollied, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Let us celebrate."
"He's sad," Penelope noted, looking up to watch her boyfriend's face on the big screen overhead. "This is still a win, no? He should be happy."
Mattia's expression told her that this was a conversation that perhaps he'd had before. "Charles is too hard on himself. He wants to be the best."
"But he did everything right."
"Yes. But you are a sports person yourself, so you know what they're like. It is hard, to appreciate second when you are chasing first. Don't worry about Charles, my dear. He is happy, but before he can feel the joy he feels the disappointment. That is all."
As Penelope and Mattia walked past the stands, there was a sudden onslaught of cheering. Young girls held up handmade signs with her face on, or with quotes from her show. Penelope waved to them, blowing them a kiss as Mattia patted her shoulder. "Put Charles from your mind. Go, talk to them. The press will want interviews too, I'd imagine. You have time before the podium."
That old uneasy feeling began to stir in Penelope's stomach. "I'm not a driver. Post-race interviews seem a little pointless."
"Yes yes, but the people will love it. It's for the fans, they love hearing from the partners of the drivers."
"Right. I don't want to miss Charles and Carlos on the podium though."
Something in Mattia shifted, like a lion deciding not to pick a fight and move on to the next zebra. He laughed, though it didn't feel genuine, and placed his hand back on her shoulder, steering her away. "You're right, of course. Time slips away from me! Podium time indeed."
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Watching Charles receive his accolade as the entire track cheered was once again one of the best moments of Penelope's life. It made her so proud, to see him standing up there with his friends and colleagues, at the top of his game. But despite her joy, a sense of sadness tugged at her like a fly she couldn't swat away. It dawned on her that she'd probably never experience that feeling again for her own sport. The feeling of winning, of being the best at something you put so many hours into, of knowing that you've reached the highest standard - it was impossible to beat. The swirling cascade of happiness and euphoria mixed with all the emotion that had gone into the hours of training and physical effort, all coming together the moment you stand on that stage knowing you've won...saying goodbye to that would be harder than she'd anticipated.
It wasn't long before the podium ceremony was over, the drivers and teams all filing back to the paddock. Charles had his arm round Penelope's shoulders, the sun shining on them as they followed the crowd, people cheering as they waved. When they reached the paddock, one of the interns began to herd everyone together. "Everyone get in!" they instructed, holding a phone in one hand and waving with the other. "We need to take a team photo for the page."
Everyone did as they were told. The group assembled in front of the garage as Penelope backed off, standing behind the camera, planning to watch on. The intern took a few photos before Mattia suddenly looked around and spotted her, calling to the photographer to stop.
"Penelope!" he summoned. "Come, come!"
He pointed to Charles, who moved over to make space for her. He held his hand out as she knelt beside him, their fingers intertwining as the intern called "Cheese!"
The pictures were adorable. Penelope almost couldn't believe how happy she looked when she saw them. It reminded her how lucky she was to have Charles in her life, how much better things were when she was with him. Thank you, she said silently to whoever was listening out there, for bringing him to me.
"Hey," Charles said, tugging on her fingers. "I need to talk to you."
Penelope's stomach fell. "You do?"
"Yeah. It's important," he said as he pulled her in to kiss her cheek. "Walk with me?"
Penelope wasn't sure what to make of this request. Normally, Charles was a pretty laid back guy. They'd never had a fight or a proper disagreement, but still the phrase 'I need to talk to you' didn't exactly sit right with her. As they walked, she watched him with nervous eyes, but he didn't seem mad. He held her hand like nothing was wrong, rubbing his thumb against her fingers the way he did when he was letting her know he was there. He knew she got anxious about the cameras, and he was trying to reassure her that they were in this together.
Trying to avoid the subject altogether and skirt round the issue, Penelope asked, "Are we going to dinner? Or the hotel maybe?"
Charles shook his head, pulling on his collar. "We have to stop off somewhere first, actually."
Penelope's eyes narrowed. "Why? You have a secret hangout here or something? Public pool I should know about?"
Charles smiled, but he gave her a look that told her this wasn't really a joke. "Not this time. This is strictly work. For you though, not me."
"What?"
"I got a call this morning," Charles said plainly, slipping on a pair of sunglasses so she couldn't see his eyes. She hated that, it made him hard to read. "From your friend Jasper."
Shit. Penelope's mind was in overdrive, adrenaline surging through her veins as she began to panic. If Jasper had talked to Charles, then that meant he knew about everything. Her entire plan was falling apart. "Jasper? What? Why?"
"He told me that you guys had a fight, which I didn't understand at first until he told me that you're quitting, Penelope."
"Charles, I-"
"But I told him that couldn't be right, because you didn't tell me any of that. And you wouldn't quit skating without telling me. But he insisted that it was the truth. He said that you were scared to get on the ice, that you felt you were no good anymore. So he called me because he didn't know what else to do."
Charles looked to her expectantly, waiting for her response. They'd reached the car now, both standing on opposite sides, waiting for the other to make the first move. Penelope refused to look at him, her eyes trained on the ground under their feet. She felt trapped, like a cornered animal, volatile and vulnerable.
"You have anything to say?" he asked again, unrelenting.
Penelope kept her silence. She opened the car door, climbing inside without saying a word. Truthfully, she didn't know what to tell him. She wasn't even sure how she felt about skating anymore, and having this conversation wasn't making it any easier.
Charles sat down beside her, closing the door with enough force to make her jump. "Penelope, don't ignore me. I'm your boyfriend, you should talk to me about this stuff. You quit your job, that's a big deal. Is that really what you want? To stop dancing?"
She took a deep breath. She wanted to cry, but she forced herself to be brave. It was her decision, now she had to face the consequences. "I can't dance anymore. I get on the ice, and it's like I can't remember how to move. If I go to Nationals like this...I won't just lose, I'll never dance again. Even if I get better, it'll be over. I won't do that to myself, and I won't do it to Jasper either. He's better off without me."
She could feel Charles watching her, studying every detail of her expression. "I thought you were excited to start dancing again. Why didn't you tell me any of this?"
Penelope shrugged, finally meeting his eyes. She expected him to look angry, but instead he just looked worried, like it broke his heart not knowing what was going on in her life. "It's race weekend, I didn't want you to worry about me. I thought I could handle it."
His expression softened and he took her hand. "You don't have to do this alone anymore, Nell. I don't care how bad things are, I just want to be able to help you. I love you, nothing you do is going to change that."
In an instant, Penelope's walls began to crumble. She was so used to being alone, to being the strong woman that she'd had to be for her family, for Frankie...she'd almost forgotten what it was like to have someone in her corner. "I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted, shaking her head. "I thought I was protecting myself but I just keep thinking that if my Abuelo was here...he'd be so disappointed."
Penelope's voice broke as Charles unfastened his seatbelt, moving closer and pulling her into him. He let her cry into his chest as she tried to take deep breaths, trying to focus on the little things like the way he smelt or the feel of his suit against her skin.
"It's not too late," he soothed, his hands running down her back. "I'm here with you, amore mio. You're okay. Shh, you're okay."
"I don't know how to fix it," Penelope admitted, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn't see any way to come out of this anymore.
"Ah," Charles said, a spark of something genius hidden in his voice. "I think I might have an idea of how to help with that."
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