Madrid English Version

Chapter 28

The winter break passed in the blink of an eye. During it, Carlos and Aria slipped away for a few days to the Pyrenees. Four days of paradise, which they shared together, making the most of every moment. They planned nothing, improvising constantly, which relaxed them even more.

The brunette had to return to work at the beginning of January, while the driver still had a month's rest before the start of winter testing. Every day, Carlos would pick up the engineer at the end of the working day, in front of the building where she worked. He would wait for her in his car, wanting to avoid creating a riot. Most of the time, once they were together, they either went for a walk in a park, empty at this time of year, or they went to get some dinner and prepared the meal at the pilot's house.

Carlos had to leave the comfort and tranquility of the first month of the year two thousand and twenty-two, to return to the sound of the engines, which he had missed all the same. The Spaniard wanted to say good-bye to Aria before not seeing her again for a week.

With his plane due in mid-afternoon, the dark-haired man packed a lunch and put it in Tupperware, which he intended to take to the engineer's office, to have lunch with her before she left.

They had lunch in the park, where they usually strolled. Despite the January chill, they enjoyed their last moment together. When the time came to say goodbye, Carlos buried his head in the engineer's neck, and she tightened her arms around his neck. They parted, and the driver lowered his head, wanting to keep eye contact with the brunette as long as possible. Carlos climbed into his car, and Aria watched him drive away through the snow-covered streets of Madrid. Once the vehicle was out of her field of vision, the Spaniard wiped the few tears that had fallen from her eyes with her sleeve. She returned to her office and spent the rest of the day working, her heart heavy.

A heavy heart to know that the pilot was far from her, that she could no longer see him, or even speak to him. Even if only for seven days.

The brunet joined the Monegasque in the principality, before flying off to Bahrain. Charles didn't share his impressions with Carlos, but he had guessed that something wasn't right. He didn't ask him any questions, as he hated being asked such questions when he was in the same state.

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Pre-season testing went extremely well. The Ferraris were at the top of the standings, but we could expect some good performances from other teams, who would have preferred to bluff.

Carlos sent a message to the brunette informing her of his return date in the capital, the fifteenth of February. The day after Valentine's Day. Their first Valentine's Day. Separated. They were going to spend their first Valentine's Day by each other's side, separated.

Their separation saddened Aria. Being away from Carlos saddened Aria. Spending Valentine's Day without Carlos saddened Aria. Since the pilot's departure, everything saddened Aria.

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Carlos refused to spend Valentine's Day without the brunette. It was unthinkable. He decided to take matters into his own hands, and made a phone call to the blonde, who knew the Spaniard particularly well. He took note of all Alba's answers to his questions. The pilot had deliberately withheld his actual return date.

The Italian was briefed on what to do. The Englishman had also been briefed, even if he found it difficult to understand the situation at first sight. Alba sent a message to the brunette, telling her that this year they'd be spending Valentine's Day together, just like old times. And that she should dress up for the occasion.

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On this evening, the halfway point of February, the two engineers got ready in the Spanish woman's bathroom, the music echoing through her apartment. Aria noticed that Alba was dancing less than before, when the music was so loud, and that her complexion was no longer as radiant as before, turning white. She was pale, pallid. Nevertheless, Aria didn't ask any questions; it wasn't her place to force the issue specifically with the Italian who had been so supportive during her attack and its aftermath. She simply smiled at her, not stopping herself from showing concern for her, as they had done for each other for over twenty years.

The blonde received a call and rushed out of the bathroom, under the astonished gaze of the Spaniard. She didn't worry, thinking it was the British man on the other end of the line. The only person capable of making her run like that for a call.

Alba hung up and returned to the bathroom. Noting that Aria was almost ready, she sent a final message before turning on her heels. She was careful not to forget anything, and pretended she had to call someone, justifying her need to go to the landing. However, the Italian didn't call anyone, but knocked on the next door, which opened on the Spaniard, and in the background the Englishman who must have been eating peanuts or something similar.

The blonde readjusted the dark-haired man's suit, pushed him out into the corridor and wished him luck, before rushing into the elevator accompanied by the McLaren driver. Carlos rang the engineer's bell and she crossed the apartment, her dress dancing to the rhythm of her steps. She opened the door ready to reprimand the Italian for locking herself out. Yet the engineer froze. Frozen to see the pilot before her eyes, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. Aria could only think of one thing. For a week, she'd been dreaming of just one thing. She thought about its morning, noon and night. Aria closed the gap between them and pressed her lips against those of the dark-haired man, who didn't hesitate to smile against the lips of the woman who made his heart beat faster. Aria's arms found the nape of Carlos's neck, while her own found refuge on the brunette's hips.

Breathless, the two brunettes parted, Aria taking Carlos in her arms to extinguish him, as if she wanted to make sure that everything happening was real, not a dream. Yet it was all true. The pilot was standing in front of her house, his favorite flowers in hand, wearing a suit. Once their embrace was over, Carlos kept his hands on the brunette's hips and placed them on those of the Spaniard, who contemplated her from top to bottom, before spinning her around with his hand. He admired her long, Ferrari-red dress, the slit up her leg and the black heels that fit her like a glove.

Carlos pulled her to the door of her apartment, where he took care to place his hands over the brunette's eyes, not wanting to spoil the surprise. He was careful not to bump into her and closed the door with his leg, before letting her discover what he was up to thanks to Lando and Alba. Aria's eyes sparkled, and her hand found the dark-haired man's, who couldn't look away from her, so mesmerized was he by her. The Spaniard had prepared a table in his dining room and a dinner, where he was careful to include only foods that the brunette enjoyed, with the help of her childhood friend. Each time Carlos brought a dish, he waited for Aria to taste it before doing the same, as if he had to make sure she liked what he had cooked before eating it.

Aria didn't ask any questions during the evening. She didn't want to know how he'd managed to get her ready so that he wouldn't arrive at the right moment. She paid little attention to such details. All she wanted was to enjoy the brunette, who was giving birth to hundreds of butterflies inside her.