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The short beep of your phone, signalling you have a new message, pulls you out of your thoughts and you can't help but smile when you see Michael's response to the text you sent him a few minutes earlier.
218. Copy of my key-card is at the front desk for you. Guess I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast then? X
You type a quick 'Thank you, Mit. LY ' in reply before you put your phone back in your purse just as the taxi pulls up to the hotel, the driver smiling at you in the rear view mirror as you hand him your card to pay for the drive.
A soft breeze hits you when you step out of the car not much later and despite the late hour it's still warm outside, a promise of even higher temperatures tomorrow hanging in the air. Your suitcase is already waiting for you on the curb and you smile at the driver, "Thank you."
He simply nods in reply and wishes you a pleasant stay before he gets back into his car.
Making your way to the reception area you're surprised at the amount of people crowding the lobby and you wonder if it's just the other teams and their staff arriving or if it's fans hoping to catch a glimpse of one of their favourites. Still, most of them seem to just hang around and so there isn't much of a wait once you get to the front desk, the girl behind it greeting you with a warm smile.
"Hi," you say, mirroring her smile, "I believe Mr Italiano left a key-card for me?"
"Ah, yes." The girl pulls up an envelope and hands it to you, "If I could just take your details so we can add you to Mr Italiano's room?"
For a second you debate whether or not to tell her you won't actually be staying in his room but then you figure it might be a bit too much to tell her the whole story and so you hand her your passport and give her your phone number when she asks for it.
You find yourself headed to the elevator bay not much later, tapping the key-card against the pad once you get inside which in turn allows you to press the button for the elevator to take you up to the third floor. A quick glance in the mirror lining the back wall tells you the almost twenty hours of travelling have started to take their toll, because you know you can't solely blame your current appearance on just the godawful fluorescent lighting you're under. You decide there's not much you can do about that now and so you simply divert your eyes.
It seems like a stampede of butterflies has appeared somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach as soon as the elevator doors open and you force yourself to take a few deep breaths once you're out on the corridor. The signs let you know where to go and all too soon and yet not quick enough you find yourself knocking on the door of 214, three short knocks to let Michael know it's you before you slide the now useless key-card under his door and continue down the hall.
Another deep breath then when you get to 218, trying to get those damn butterflies under control, before you knock on the door, the same three knocks as earlier.
Muffled sounds come from inside the room before the door swings open and then there he is and your heart, oh your heart.
"Hey," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
You can tell from the way his breath hitches and he bites his bottom lip that he’s a little overwhelmed and so you quickly take a step inside and close the door behind you before you let go of your suitcase and drop your purse and hold out your arms to him. He closes the gap between you in an instant and wraps his arms around you, holding onto you so tight you almost stumble backwards.
"I love you," you tell him as if it’s the only thing that matters right now. Then again, maybe it is.
***
"I can't believe you're here," he says after a while, when he finally loosens his grip and pulls back a little, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he rests his against yours.
"Always," you tell him, sneaking your hands in between the two of you so you can cup his face, your thumbs now stroking his cheeks gently. It’s your way of letting him know you’re here for him, no matter what.
He pulls back again but this time he dips his head, just a little, his lips ghosting over yours before he captures your mouth with his. There's a need behind the kiss, as if he’s trying to ground himself, trying to get out of his head if only for a short while, and so you kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him until you have to pull back and catch your breath.
He looks at you with a hint of a smile, “Thank you.”
You start to protest, “Dan-”
“No.” He shakes his head, “Don’t tell me it’s no big deal, babe. It is.”
“You know me too well,” you tell him with a wink, your hands now running through his curls in a way that has him close his eyes and lean into your touch.
“Hmm,” he hums in response before he opens his eyes again. He lets go of you then, holding out one of his hands for you to take while he pushes your suitcase further into his hotel room with the other, “Come on.”
***
“I have a question-”
You giggle, “Only one?”
“For now,” he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“Go for it,” you tell him, snuggling a little closer by sneaking one of your legs between his. You’re a little rosy after the shower you took not long ago and you can feel your eyes starting to get heavy, the way Daniel’s fingers are tracing intricate patterns on the exposed skin on your back from where your tank top has ridden up slowly lulling you to sleep.
“How?”
“How what?”
“How did you get here so quickly?”
“I have my ways,” you tease, letting out a content sigh when he wraps his arms around you.
He chuckles, “I know you do.”
“I called Zac,” you offer then, knowing he’ll find out eventually anyway.
“You called-”
“Your boss?” You nod against his chest, “Yep.”
“Why?”
“Ai, that’s question number two, Ricciardo. You only had one, remember?”
“I’m serious,” he puts his hand under your chin to make you look up at him and even in the faint glow from the night light next to the bed you can tell there’s a dark look in his eyes. “Why would you call Zac?”
You can feel your eyebrows knit together at the accusation in his voice and immediately feel yourself getting defensive, “Why wouldn’t I? ‘We’re sort of a package deal, wherever I go, she gets to go as well.’ Wasn’t that what you told him when you signed your contract?”
“Yeah, but-”
“No,” you tell him, pushing yourself off him and untangling your legs so you can cross them in front of you as you sit up, “you don’t get to back out of that now.” You look at him, “When I heard your voice on the radio yesterday Dan, after they told you to retire the car, Jesus, my heart broke for you and all I could think about was how I didn’t want to wait another week to see you again.”
“And I love you for that but I don’t need the team to think I’m weak,” he says just loud enough for you to hear as he pushes himself up and lets his back rest against the headboard of the bed.
“You don’t- What?” You shake your head, your eyes narrowing, “How dare you.” You pull your hand back when he tries to reach for it, “How fuckin’ dare you.” He tries to say something but you’re not done yet, instead pointing your finger at him, “You should know better than to bring your fuckin’ ego into this, Ricciardo, because then you might as well tell me to leave right now.”
He sighs, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Isn’t it, though?” God, you never wanted this to become an argument but now that you’ve started you figure you might as well see it through. “Sounds to me like you’re more worried about what other people think of you than you are happy to see your wife.” You hold up your hand, showing him your wedding ring, “In sickness and in health, for better or worse, remember? You’re stuck with me, whether you want to or not.”
“Babe-”
“No.” You shake your head to let him know you're not finished yet. “I made a promise to you all those years ago and so help me God I will see it through. Don’t you get it? Whenever you’re hurting-” you put your hand to your heart, “-I’m hurting too and I will do whatever it takes to make it better for you in any way I can. Even if that means calling your boss and asking him if he can help me figure out a way to get to you as soon as possible. I don’t care if you think that makes you seem weak and honestly, neither should you. Because it doesn’t. It’s ok to let other people take care of you sometimes.” You hang your head, “Do you know how many times I wish you would have been there to pick up the pieces for me?”
The moment those words leave your mouth you instantly regret them and when you look up at him his pained expression feels like a knife to your heart.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” you hold up your hands to him, “I’m sorry, babe. I don’t know why I said that. That was-”
“True,” his voice is so low that for a moment you’re not even sure you heard him right but then he leans forward and puts his hand under your chin to make you look up at him, “It’s true.” There’s a softness to his eyes now, “I know that for most of the year this is a very one-sided relationship-”
“I knew that going in-”
“Ssh.” And then, like he always does when he wants you to shut up and listen, he puts his entire hand over your mouth instead of just one finger. “It’s my turn now.”
Just that small gesture, although far from subtle, tells you that things between you aren’t as bad as you made them up to be in your head for the past minute or so and a wave of relief surges through you. You nod against his hand to let him know you’ll listen.
“I know I haven’t been there for you as much as maybe you need or want me to, no matter how much you keep assuring me you’re managing just fine on your own.” He clears his throat, “It’s unfair, and I know that and you know that and yet you’re still there whenever I need you, always trying to pick up my pieces where you can. And there have been a lot of them in the past few years, babe, scattered all over the place. It’s like I keep sending you on a fucking scavenger hunt all while asking that you put your life on hold. For me.”
He lets himself fall back against the headboard, “You’re right, it’s not about what other people think of me. Fuck it, let them think I’m weak. All I care about is what you think of me and I’m-” He hesitates and takes a deep breath before he looks at you and shrugs, trying to downplay whatever it is he’s feeling right now even though you can see him coming to terms with it, “-I’m scared.”
“Why?” It comes out barely above a whisper but you know he’s heard you from the way he hangs his head.
He stays quiet a little longer and so do you, not wanting to push him. When he finally looks up you’re shocked to see tears in his eyes, “I’m scared that one day you’ll decide enough is enough and-”
“Hey,” you sit up on your knees and move closer to him, swinging one leg over his so you can sit in his lap before you cup his face in your hands, making him look at you. “Never.”
“How can you say that?” His voice is a little rough and full of emotion and now you can feel your own tears starting to well up. “How can you be so sure?”
You try to smile at him, “Because we didn’t come all this way only to get this far.”
He smiles then, a real smile this time, when he hears you repeat your wedding vows to him a quiet, “Nice” escaping him and the mood instantly lifting. His hands find their way into your hair, pulling you closer to him as he whispers, “I really am the luckiest man alive to have you by my side.”
“Ooh,” you can’t help a giggle escaping you, happy to see the tension from earlier starting to disappear. Daniel smiles too and so you tell him with a wink, “That was a bit cheesy, babe.”
“Yeah?” He asks with feigned shock and a stunned expression
“Yeah.”
“But you love me for it,” he says, letting his lips ghost over yours.
“That I do,” you agree, completing the spiel you started all those years ago and have continued all throughout your marriage, chasing after his mouth with your own.
“That you do,”
You smile into the kiss, “Always.”