I heard the knock before I even reached the door. The second I opened it, a small, familiar voice lit up my whole damn apartment.

“Hey Rogan!” I grinned, scooping him up in my arms as he giggled, clutching at my shoulders like the little monkey he is.

“Hi Lando,” he laughed.

I looked over at her, leaning against the doorframe, that smile she gives me when she’s pretending not to be tired. “Hi, babe.”

“Hi, baby,” I murmured, setting Rogan down and pulling her in for a kiss.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You ready for the weekend?”

“Yeah,” I smirked, throwing an arm around her waist. “Especially now that I’ve got my sexy girlfriend with me.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted my arm. “Stop it.”

I laughed, catching her hand and kissing her knuckles before letting them both in.

Sunday came faster than it should’ve. The streets of Monaco buzzing, my name on walls, orange everywhere. But the only thing that settled my nerves was seeing them — her, and Rogan perched on the table in the McLaren garage, swinging his legs next to my helmet like he owned the place.

I walked over in my race suit, my heart kicking up when I caught her eyes. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.

“You ready, babe?” she whispered.

“Yeah… nervous.”

I buried my face in the crook of her neck, just for a second. No cameras, no eyes, just her.

“I know,” she murmured, lips brushing my ear. “But I’ll give you cuddles and kisses later tonight… and we can shower together.”

I pulled back, grinning like an idiot.

“Okay, I’m ready for the race.”

She laughed softly, brushing my hair back. “I love you.”

And right there, in the middle of all the noise and pressure, I kissed her like we had nowhere else to be.