Pole Position: Between Logic and Passion

Portofino was everything I didn’t know I needed.
Bright sun, soft sea breeze, endless plates of pasta, and zero talk about racing, strategy, or contract clauses. Just me and Kate—being sisters.

We spent mornings by the water, getting too much sun and laughing over inside jokes that no one else would ever understand. Afternoons wandering the colorful streets, slipping into tiny boutiques and eating gelato like it was a sport. And at night, we'd sit on the terrace of our little hotel room, sipping cheap wine and talking about everything and nothing.

We were halfway through a bottle of wine when Kate finally asked the question I’d been dodging all weekend.

“So…” she said, drawing out the word like it weighed a hundred kilos. “Are we going to talk about Charles?”

I didn’t look at her. I just kept swirling the wine in my glass, pretending the sound of the waves crashing below us was enough of a distraction.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I murmured, even though we both knew that was a lie.

Kate snorted. “You mean besides the fact that he clearly still has feelings for you? And you’re clearly still torn about him? And you’re maybe about to work with him again?”

I groaned and let my head fall back against the chair. “You make it sound so dramatic.”

“That’s because it is dramatic.” She grinned. “And don’t roll your eyes at me, I saw the clip. The live one. With the dinner you made. And the internet collectively losing its mind over the ‘mystery woman’ in his apartment.”

I couldn’t help but smile, just a little. “He said it was me. Told everyone we hadn’t gotten back together. Just that I saved him from starvation.”

Kate gave me a look. “You think that man lets just anyone cook in his kitchen?”

I sighed, setting my glass down. “I don’t know what he wants. I mean… he says it’s me. Says there are no expectations. But how do I know that’s true? How do I know it’s not just because of what I can bring to the team?”

Kate was quiet for a moment, which for her, said a lot. Then she leaned forward, softer this time.

“You don’t,” she said. “But you do know what it feels like when it’s real."

Kate hesitated, twirling her ring around her finger before speaking again. “You know, Arthur told me something.”

That caught my attention. My eyes flicked to hers, cautious. “About what?”

“About Charles,” she said carefully. “Apparently… he hasn’t been with anyone since you.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

Kate shrugged, but her expression was gentle. “I mean anyone. No flings, no rebound girl, no messy Monaco situations. Nothing.”

My throat tightened, but I didn’t say anything.

“He told Arthur,” she continued, “that he just didn’t feel like it. That no one felt right. And that every time he even thought about trying… it felt like cheating.”

I froze. “He said that?”

Kate nodded. “Arthur said it was one of the only times he’s ever seen Charles actually open up about something emotional. And he told him that you—” she paused for effect, “—ruined casual for him.”

I let out a shaky breath, the air suddenly heavier.

“I’m not saying you owe him anything,” Kate added quickly. “But maybe… stop doubting if he wants you."