After Lewis drops her off near his apartment, she pulls up her phone and calls Charles, who is all too happy to let her know he obliterated both his brothers at paddle earlier.
"Are you on your way home?"
"Yeah, I figured I'd take a walk."
The sun is beating down on her but the heat isn't unbearable yet, and being outside will do her a lot of good after being stuck in a car for two hours, gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it. Which, technically, totally does.
"Okay, I'm with Riccardo and Joris right now, so I'll pick you up on my way back. We'll need to leave the house by half past six tonight," Charles instructs.
She frowns, racking her brain but coming up empty. "Do we have plans?"
"It's a surprise." The playfulness in his voice isn't lost on her. "Don't even try, I won't tell you."
It's borderline annoying how well he knows her.
They hang up, and she resumes walking alongside the picturesque coast, meddling with the tourists gazing at the sea and millionaires strutting around with high-end bags. Monaco has been her home for three years now, having moved in with Charles barely a year into their romantic relationship, but she never gets tired of the stunning views and glamorous lifestyle. It's a different rhythm to the one she grew up in while living with her parents in Normandy but there hasn't been a day she has regretted her choice.
The saying was right, home really is where the heart is.
She stops by the Ben&Jerry's store for a scoop of her favorite chocolate brownie ice cream. She practically moans at the taste as she strolls until she spots an empty bench. Sitting there and devouring the sweet frozen treat, she watches as boats come and go. It's quieter than it usually is for the beginning of August but she likes it better that way.
During every summer of her childhood, her dad would take them away for a weekend in Honfleur, a quiet little town on the coast, just an hour's drive from Rouen. Without fail, he'd insist on visiting the port, and she'd stubbornly drag her feet and sulk, ignoring her father's comments on the colourful fishermen's boats they passed by. The only thing she was interested in was jumping into the cold English Channel waves and picking out the best specimen of rocks that made up the beach.
Now that her parents aren't there anymore, she finds herself walking to the Hercules harbour as often as she can, like today. She feels closer to them here, and a sense of calm washes over her.
Just as the thought occurs in her mind, a loud shriek shatters the silence. She jumps about half a foot up in the air and just about manages not to spill her ice cream all over her shirt.
"It was so cool," a little boy, who couldn't be older than 5, says, bursting with excitement.
His wide smile mirrors that of the people whom she assumes are his parents. He's jumping up and down, clutching a gift bag to his chest and she grins as she realizes just where the family came from. The Prince of Monaco's Vintage Car Collection. "Calm down, please!" his mom chastises.
"Can we go see the cars now?"
A memory of Chiara, Lorenzo's daughter, seeing Charles's Ferrari SF90 for the first time flashes in her mind and it brings a smile to her lips.
His dad ruffles his hair. "Oh, buddy, not this weekend. It's only once a year in Monaco, remember, we watched it on TV?"
The kid looks slightly disappointed that he's missing the Grand Prix and the woman grimaces, likely hoping to prevent a tantrum. She stretches her ear, a warm fuzzy feeling filling her chest. She's always had a soft spot for kids.
