Burning Heart // CL16

Seventy Six

I was in love with Charles and if anything it was just growing. Ever since my realisation at Paul Riccard - ironically where I first realised I was in love with him - I was unable to shake the painful simmering in my chest.

The feeling similar to the anticipation of disaster, when you're just totally convinced from the moment you wake up that something is about to go horribly wrong. That was what I felt constantly even if I was good at hiding it and we resumed our 'normal' co-parenting relationship.

It had been three weeks and Charles has been as good as gold... similar to the result he'd achieved in France. However that race was followed by one not as good in Belgium and the Netherlands. He'd stuck to the agreement and left it all on the boat, something I was trying desperately hard to do as well.

Now we were in Monza for the final European race of the season and still the words were burnt into my mind every time I saw him. I was honestly surprised by the ease at which he seemed to have managed to leave the night on the boat in the past because I felt like I wasn't anywhere near as successful. I was good at pretending, especially to him but... I was back there every night and every morning.

Every time I closed my eyes I could see his eyes before he kissed me. I could feel the heat from his skin on his shoulders under my fingers as he whispered his confessions in my ear. I could hear him when he told me that he loved me in the sound of the wind, or an F1 car driving by, every white noise served as a reminder. Everything served as a reminder.

I know those things should make me happy. It should be easy. It should be obvious. I should be able to tell him I felt how he did. That I loved him too. Tell him that I'd never loved anyone like I loved Charles. That's what people do, that's what normal, sane people do. They have feelings, they communicate them and hopefully something beautiful comes from it.

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't be responsible for another person's happiness. I couldn't handle the idea of letting him down, of not living up to his expectations. Of not being enough. I was convinced eventually the novelty would wear off and he would get bored and then what? We had Ruby...

So I couldn't tell him because I didn't want reality to ruin what was in my mind because that would be more painful than just spending a lifetime with him as my friend. I was no good in relationships. I couldn't be trusted because I scared too easily. I ran and no matter if I wanted to make things work. I knew that I wouldn't be able to make it work.

I wasn't capable of it. I wasn't enough and he meant too much. Not just to me but to Ruby also and even if he was going to tell me that everything was going to be okay. I knew he would. I knew if I told him he'd convince me and then what? What would I do then?

The obvious answer is be happy... I just couldn't help the feeling of impending doom every time the words almost slipped out.

"Alessia," Charles calls my name, appearing in my room with Ruby in his arms in a perfect little yellow dress. Perfect for a Sunday at Monza. "You look amazing, stop stressing out," he tells me and I roll my eyes, as I try to smooth out the beige jumpsuit I was wearing refocusing my eyes on myself in the mirror. I loved this outfit but strapless always felt like a danger even if it was a cool one. "You're going to make us late and then the Tifosi will hate you," Charles teases me as he hands Ruby over to me, knowing full well that will stop getting me to fuss over myself and I laugh as he hovers behind me in the mirror. "Hey, you okay... you look spooked?" He questions, resting his hand on my waist, reminding me of when we were standing like this before the Amber Lounge.

I remembered it like yesterday. I remembered all the pain like it was yesterday. He said he was in love with me but he still hurt me, over and over again. So it wasn't even just me, it was him too.