Vogue | Tony Stark

THIRTY SEVEN - REGRET

"It suits you, kid."

"You think?"

"Sure do."

George Goldwyn smiled down at a ten year old Tony Stark who was sat with a beaming smile on his face in the drivers seat of a red Ferrari F40.

It was a hot summers afternoon up in The Hamptons and the boys had been in the garage all day, George spending hours showing Tony the insides and outsides of his small collection of rather lavish cars.

They could just about see Leonie and Estélla sat together on a chequered blanket on the lawn having a tea party and they'd been laughing at the dainty China cups they used as they watched through the open windows and doors.

It wasn't often that George and Tony spent time alone together and for the most part, Tony didn't mind since there was something slightly intimidating about the man, but when he'd been offered a peek in the garage when he first got dropped off at the house that morning, there was only ever going to be one answer.

"Maybe I'll leave it to you, I don't think Esté has much of an interest in cars," George said, laughing quietly as he watched his daughter pour more tea into a blue cup, "Would you like that?"

"Yes, yes please," Tony look up with a grin, eyes wide as he nodded furiously, "Can you show me the engine again?"

George nodded and popped open the cover, propping it up safely to make sure it didn't slam shut on little Tony's hands as he peered inside.

He watched as the boy shuffled around the edges, head practically inside the engine and all the meticulous mechanics that made little sense to him, but seemed to have the child completely mesmerised.

"You really love cars, don't you, son?"

Tony nodded again, running his hands across the parts but being careful not to knock or twist anything out of its place.

"More than anything," Tony answered.

George sighed and wandered over to a bright red refrigerator in the corner of the garage, grabbing two bottles of Coke and popping the caps from both before handing one to Tony.

"Loving people is different," he said.

"How?" Tony asked, sipping the cold drink and leaning against a workbench beside George.

"It's the most powerful thing in the world," he answered, "Strong enough to kill you but strong enough to keep you alive, too. It all depends on how soft the hands are that you fall into, I suppose."

Tony wasn't quite sure what George meant by his words, but it gave him something to think about nevertheless.

They drank their Coke in silence for a few moments, both of them staring out at the girls on the lawn. Esté had her hair tied back in two French plaits and was dressed in a pale yellow sundress, laughing while her mother lifted up her pinky finger as they drank their tea.

"What about Esté? Would it be OK to love her?"

George chuckled quietly to himself at the child's remark, though found it equally heartwarming to hear. There was purity to his question and an innocence in his brown eyes as he looked up at George and waited for his answer.

"She likes to see the best in people, but she won't turn a blind eye to the bad, either. Honestly kid, it wouldn't surprise me if one day the whole world fell in love with my Estélla," he said, placing a hand on Tony's shoulders with a light squeeze as she watched Esté look over at them and wave with a dazzling smile, "But what would surprise me more is if she didn't fall in love with you."