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The baby blinks up at him and Max forces himself to smile before remembering she will not be able to see yet. But he knows the nurses are watching him so he holds it even though it hurts to fake it and he tells the baby he loves her while feeling utterly detached. The pregnancy was hell.
Charles was nowhere to be found, adamant that one time was not enough and that the baby was not his and that Max was lying to throw Charles off in the championship. Max has done a lot of things for Red Bull over the years that he did not want to do but he would never bring a baby into the world just to use as a tool. And he was not even driving. His last race for Red Bull and the end of the season and clearly a stupid mistake but he had expected Charles to do better, be better.
But then, he never thought he would bring a baby into the world that was not loved and here he is lying in a hospital bed in a private clinic in Los Angeles and he cannot say that he loves his baby so maybe Max is no better. He just knew that in the other clinic with his sister he heard his name being called and couldn’t do it, couldn’t terminate the pregnancy.
So he ran.
She says she will take her, if she has to but Max knows that in her heart Victoria does not want to. And Victoria has paid the price of Max’s life enough. He took her dad, he cannot give her a baby. All he can do is push through, work hard, be determined. It cannot raise a child though, stubbornness alone.
But that is all he has.
Maybe he will grow to love her.
“It will be okay, baby,” Max mutters, “I will make it so.”
-
The baby can see him now and when Max meets her gaze it is turning green.
Charles is not answering his calls, but money has appeared in Max’s account and somehow that is more of an insult. He does not need the money. He could use some help but if Charles turned up now Max’s mother might kill him. The thing is, he knows Charles is good with children. He could be good with their tiny daughter who Max feels scared to hold. He could pick a beautiful name for her.
Max has no idea what to call her. Victoria suggested Sophie but it does not feel right. It would work as a middle name but Max wants her to have a name just for her but he cannot decide on what.
His mother rocks the baby and Max backs off. Sophie does not need to say anything for Max to know she is disappointed. She feels he should lash out and fight, put the baby on instagram and tag Charles and force him to make a move but Max just does not want that. One day, she will see all this and Max knows that.
Perhaps the issue is so does Charles.
Still, the money is Charles admitting the girl is his. Max has not had to force a paternity test though he thought about it. If Charles doesn't want to be there a piece of paper will not help.
Jos called him a fool but he had also built the nursery furniture while he ranted. Max supposes his career was over either way so he was trying to be better. But every week he got bigger, only reminded Max that maybe there were more issues between he and his father than he ever dealt with. And he should have dealt with them.
He likes the baby now at least.
He hates how his body does not feel like his yet, how his stomach is still protruding, and his chest hurts even if he only uses formula and the angry red scar that had leaked blood and puss repulses him but what can he do? He made a choice.
He likes the baby, but he does not love her yet.
She has Charles’ eyes. Maybe if she didn’t Max would not feel so numb.
-
Arthur Leclerc turns up with a pink bag and a card. Max has a strong urge to slam the door but he thinks the impact might rip open his stitches. So he opens the door and asks his mum to go to the store and he takes the bag from Arthur.
“Did he send you?”
“No,” Arthur says quietly “But he talks about you. Her.”
“That is nice,” Max grunts as he opens the card. It says congratulations and then there is a little outfit inside and he wants to throw it at Arthur and then throw him out of the apartment, “It is funny, you see. He does not talk to me. About her.”
“I know,” Arthur says quietly as he timidly settles on the couch. The baby turns at the sound, sitting in her little moses basket, so tiny and innocent and Max likes her. He does.
“She has his eyes.”
“I see that,” Arthur says quietly, reaching into the basket slowly to touch her tiny hand. It kills Max that her first touch from her family is from her young uncle who is more of a man than his brother, “What is her name?”
Max feels tired and every muscle aches. Fifty hours and a section anyway.
“None of your business,” he growls.
“Max-”
“Her father can ask, dickhead! Get out! Get out! Get out!”
Arthur scrambles and Max falls to his knees. He crawls to the basket and she is ten weeks old and she has no name and time is running out and Max pushes back the thoughts in his head.
She is here now.
Those thoughts will not help him now.
-
Pierre Gasly is at his door and Sophie is gone and Max is sore and covered in spit up milk.
The baby is eleven weeks old and time is not on his side.
“Fuck off.”
“Max…he would come himself but…you are angry no?”
“Angry?” Max hisses, “Do I look like I have the time or energy to be fucking angry about Leclerc?!”
“You just birthed a Leclerc-”
“The fuck I did! Fuck you! Fuck off! She’s a Verstappen!”
“She? You won’t tell anyone her name?”
“You don’t deserve to know!” Max snaps but his anger dies in the face of Pierre’s pity.
“Max…Max he is sorry-”
“Sorry?” Max grunts as he turns and leaves the door open, ”Sorry? Okay, good for him. Make yourself useful.”
And to his credit, Pierre picks up every discarded bib and blanket and onesie down the hall and from around Max’s living room. He disappears into Max’s room and gathers more and puts it all into the machine and Max blinks furiously and does not cry when the cup of hot chocolate is eased into his hands.
“Los Angeles?”
“They keep secrets better.”
“Max…she’s his?”
“Fucking look at her!”
Pierre peers into the basket and she peers back and Pierre sighs, “Hello, I am your uncle Pierre. Uncle Yuki is going to adore you!”
“Yuki?!”
“He’s cooking.”
And Max cannot say no to that. The idea of feeding himself has been horrific alone.
-
Pierre is singing to the baby when Max’s door goes again and he drags himself up to answer rather than disturb her. Yuki has a determined look and four bags of boxed meals clearly bound for Max’s freezer and behind him is Charles. He lets Yuki go and then blocks the door.
“Fuck off,” Max snaps automatically.
Charles bows his head, “Fair. Max-”
“What can you possibly say now?”
“That I am here,” Charles says quietly, “I am sorry. I was wrong. Arthur-”
“Arthur you sent to check she looked enough like you?!”
Maybe that is unfair because the money was coming regardless. Maybe not posting her face on social media convinced Charles. Max is too tired and angry to care.
“He came on his own and then he…Arthur and maman had a lot to say,” Charles informs the floor rather than Max, “Lorenzo had a word. Pierre. Yuki. Fucking Lando. I would like to see her Max.”
“I needed you months ago,” Max hisses, trying to take up as much of the doorway as possible, “Now this…this stealth invasion with Pierre and Yuki!”
“Pierre is your friend. Yuki wanted to help. I am…I hoped you might listen.”
He looks tired and pathetic and he has a race in five days, Max thinks to himself. His title challenge is very much alive as he sits equal on points with Antonelli and Piastri and he did not need to come. Max thinks on his own childhood.
His father who came to help.
His mother who came to help.
Bad experiences.
Good experiences.
“She looks like you,” he says finally while retreating into the flat. Charles follows timidly.
Only as they reach his sitting room does Max realise Charles is dragging a large bag behind him. Max snatches it from him and looks in to find the most ridiculous dresses he has ever seen. Lace and bows and frills.
“She’s not wearing these,” Max says automatically, “Charles she is changed every two hours! She eats and shits and cries! What the fuck is this?!”
“Max-”
Max turns to Pierre, “Your friend is a fucking idiot! Give me my baby!”
He snatches her from the other man and rocks her slowly. She gurgles and stares with green eyes. He likes her. He feels his stomach drop. He is shaking. Pierre is carefully taking the baby back off him. Yuki wraps himself around Max and forces him onto the couch and lets him howl.
“I should not have come,” Charles says softly and Max holds Yuki closer, nails digging into a thin shirt as Pierre claps back at his friend.
“This is the only place you should be!” English, in English for them all, for Max.
“Pierre-”
“Your place is here Charles! Ask her name!”
“I-”
“Ask her name!”
“Pierre I-”
“You don’t know because she does not have one!” Pierre snaps, gesturing to Max, “She should have one. One picked by you both.”
“He could-”
“I didn’t-” Max says wearily, “Pierre, go. Take Yuki and go….Charles and I need to talk”
“Max-”
“I’m okay, we’re okay.”
That might be another lie. But he can learn to be.
-
Max loves his baby.
He even loves himself.
And it does not matter that he and Charles are not perfect parents, or what happened before, because Charles is there.
Max is not alone.