Driven to Protect, page 11
“Okay. Then I’m doubly sorry for this news.”
Cohen gasped. “What’s the matter?”
“Felix and I have decided to have our wedding in Texas.”
“To appease our mother?” It had to be. Only a week ago, Lilly-Anne and Felix had both come to Monaco for a long weekend to meet Paulo, and they’d had a great time, exploring the city, going to the casino, and eating amazing expensive food. Cohen thought Lilly-Anne had decided to get married in Paris—the city of love—not this.
“Basically yes. She keeps going on about grandchildren and how—”
Cohen had heard this often enough. “Let me guess. How I’m not going to give her any, so it’s your responsibility. Blah blah.”
“Yes. I’m not going to give her any either.” Lilly-Anne’s taut response was enough.
“Well, she can jump in a fucking lake or something.” He’d blocked their mother years ago, and refused to have anything to do with her, but Lilly-Anne’s journey was different and she had to make her own decisions about her relationship with their shitty parent.
“Cohen. She’s still our mother. If I get married over there, she gets to have the big show off thing to her friends, and then I can come back here and hang out with you and Felix’s family who are amazing.”
“Why not just have the wedding with them here? It’d be cheaper to fly our mother over here, plus there’s the added benefit...”
“Of having her away from her comfort zone. Yes. That’s the other option.”
“Lilly-Anne.” Cohen realised he didn’t need to solve this for her. “I’m okay with whatever you decide. I’ll be there for you to support you.”
“Okay.” Lilly-Anne paused, and Cohen rolled his eyes.
“There’s something else too, isn’t there?”
“No. I don’t know. I ... How can I get to thirty-fucking-seven and still want to please her when she’s basically horrible and can’t be pleased?”
“I don’t think you should try.”
“So I just say no to her? No babies. No wedding in Texas. Just like that.”
“Yes. Lilly-Anne. You are good at saying no to people.”
“That’s work though. This is ... her.”
“Copy me. No, Mom. I won’t do that.”
Lilly-Anne laughed, but it was high pitched and off-balance.
“Or have a wedding in Texas if it will make you happy, but don’t you dare do it to make her happy. You should put yourself first.”
“Thanks, Cohen. You are the best baby brother anyone could ask for.” Cohen always got a thrill when Lilly-Anne called him that. He’d forgive her for unwittingly bringing Mom’s toxic crap back into his life because she had to deal with a version of that toxicity too.
“It’s a wedding, Lilly-Anne. It’s supposed to be about the bride. Celebrate the things that make you and Felix happy.”
“It’s hard.”
“I know. Trust me, I know. But look at what can happen when you do put your own needs first. You could end up in France—" Or Monaco, “—with a supportive partner who loves you.”
“But what about Mom?”
Cohen wanted to say that he didn’t care, but Lilly-Anne obviously still did care. “She’s going to have to learn to deal with the fact that she’s not going to get her society wedding to show off her successful daughter.”
“Yeah.” Lilly-Anne sighed. “Thanks for listening.”
“Look after yourself and let Felix look after you too.”
“God, when did you become the one with all the advice, little brother?”
“Ha. Maybe you should listen to me sometimes.”
“Maybe I should. Are you two coming here for Christmas?”
Cohen frowned. “I’ll let you know.” He hadn’t talked about Christmas plans with Paulo yet.
“Cool. It was such fun to see you guys. Let’s totally do it again.” Lilly-Anne hung up and Cohen let out a big sigh.
“Hey, are you alright?” Paulo stood behind him and wrapped his arms around Cohen’s waist with his hands resting lightly on him.
“I think so. I’m just worried that she’s going to make herself unhappy trying to please Mom.”
“Some people will never be pleased.”
Cohen grinned and leaned his head backwards onto Paulo’s shoulder. “Look at you, coming to terms with life.”
“You helped me. Without your support, I would still be pretending I wasn’t pansexual. I would’ve spent the evenings alone until I did something self-destructive again, like find a bar like Horny’s where some big top would fuck me senseless. And instead, I found you.” Paulo’s blush was everything.
“You want me to top you again?”
“Always and forever.”
Cohen was completely and utterly in love with Paulo. The speed of it should scare, but it didn’t. Paulo was his lover, his companion, and most importantly, Paulo was someone he’d protect with his whole life. Cohen had had a taste of life on the S1 circuit and he was looking forward to the new season with his boyfriend. Only a few months ago, he’d been bored, working an ordinary job at a trashy pub for basic financial survival, and now he had the best fucking life with full medical coverage. Paulo’s gift of a job had turned into the gift of a wonderful life together.
“Being with you was my very best idea.”
“Your idea? I’m the one who asked you to be with me.”
“And I’m glad you did.” Cohen spun around in Paulo’s arm and kissed him deeper. This was how he wanted to spend the rest of his days.
Chapter 13
The problem with hazy honeymoon days was that they eventually came to an end. Nearly a month of spending every day fucking each other in every possible way was about to be interrupted by reality. They’d barely left the apartment after returning from the team party at Nungwi, except for Christmas in Paris with Lilly-Anne and Felix’s family. Felix had a huge family with tons of aunties, uncles, and cousins, and all of them were so welcoming in a very French/Cote d’Ivoire enthusiastic kind of way. Cohen had the best Christmas of his life. No wonder Lilly-Anne wanted to marry the slender soccer player who was being touted as a potential for the French soccer team this season. At twenty-five, he was more than ten years younger than Lilly-Anne, but the perfect foil to her overly anxious workaholic tendencies. Felix got her out of her head and helped her find fun in her life, and for that alone, Cohen would happily call him brother. The fact that he obviously adored and loved Lilly-Anne was the icing on the cake.
It was only couple of days after New Years when they arrived back in Monaco and Paulo received an email.
“Pre-season training starts in a week with a ski camp in Austria.”
“Back to work then.” Cohen opened his new laptop—purchased for him by the team—to find the same email. The two drivers would be there, as would the Series E drivers, some of the younger development drivers, and the team of physical trainers. Cohen did some quick research on the location. Galtur was a village near Bielerhöhe Mountain and ski resort. The email outlined how they’d meet at Innsbruk and would take helicopters to their hotel—what a life these people led! From there, the trainers had a fitness program that involved a lot of cross-country skiing. Cohen had been to the snow just once; a trip to Tahoe as a ten-year-old kid, just before his parents divorced. That single day of lessons was about to become useful.
“You will come, of course.” Paulo didn’t ask it as a question.
“Yes. It’s my job to protect you.”
Paulo chewed his bottom lip. “We will have separate rooms.”
“What?” Cohen had assumed that they were a couple now and would stay in the same hotel room. It made zero sense for Paulo to insist on separate rooms. A sudden rush of blood to the head that came with rejection, of not being accepted as himself, something that was always present, reared its head and he struggled to breathe. He’d literally signed a contract to ensure that it would be very difficult to be sacked, that it would make it impossible for Gamble to get rid of him without giving him more options; and the fact that Jaxxon, the CEO, had understood that need and agreed made Paulo’s response just now feel worse than the reality of it.
“I’ll be at work. It would be weird to stay together.”
Cohen wanted to press his hands against his stomach to quell the rising hurt. “You are already out to your team. Surely, they won’t mind if they knew we are a couple?”
Paulo didn’t answer and Cohen didn’t want to push it because he couldn’t risk his job and his security and his life. A fear of being discarded was ever present for trans people, not just him, it was something they talked about in their online community with too many examples. He gasped for air, his lungs aching. He’d let himself hope that love was enough and the shock of this change from Paulo came out of the blue, making it harder for his usual defences. He’d imagined that Paulo would want to be with him when they were together in the safest of places. He swallowed. It wasn’t like him to have such a shaky response. He couldn’t stay here; in Paulo’s house; with Paulo rejecting him as a lover and not even having the decency to look at him right now. Instead of talking about how Paulo’s rejection made him feel and the sudden doubt in their love—they’d jumped into this too quickly—he grabbed his phone and his jacket, slipped on his shoes, and left. He didn’t really want to leave, but he needed space and perspective before tackling this conversation.
He walked and walked, all the way up the big hills surrounding Monaco, until he found a quiet spot to sit overlooking the city and the water. Up here, he was alone with his thoughts and the view.
Part of him knew it had all been too good to be true. Paulo was so young, and only cautiously out to a few people, and Cohen had been ignoring that it might all come crashing down around them. He’d also ignored the way it felt to have Paulo assume he’d head to Abu Dhabi without him; citing Cohen’s safety as the excuse, but maybe that’d been just bullshit all along. It sunk in, deflating Cohen completely. His lungs burned ... from marching uphill or from hurt? Paulo’s need to be in the closet in public would be fine if it was only Paulo who was affected by that decision. It would be fine—fine, fine, fine—if Paulo was open to showing people who knew about him that he was in a relationship, but the dismissal of the option of staying together in a space where they’d be safe was too much for Cohen.
Cohen was left with no option except to support Paulo’s decision to pretend they weren’t together, or to break up with Paulo and do his job from a distance. Either way, he’d keep his job but ultimately, he wouldn’t want to keep the relationship if he had to pretend everywhere. It was for the best; Paulo hadn’t been able to stop himself kissing Cohen in public after the excitement of the last race of the season. If he won a race, adrenalin and Paulo’s blurting instincts meant it was likely Paulo would do something cute and accidently out himself to the whole world. Maybe not being with Paulo was the right thing for Paulo and his career.
The panicking gallop of his heart started to slow down. He had options; not great ones, but options were better than the very real possibility of nothing. There was no need to panic. He’d spend the rest of his days knowing Paulo’s taste and the feel of Paulo’s muscles under his palm without ever touching him again. Again, it wasn’t the most catastrophic option. He breathed out. He could live with this ... because it meant being alive. In another few months, he’d have a solid nest egg saved up and that would ease this ever-present anxiety too.
So that took him back to the actual problem; not the fundamental one of being discarded, but how to deal with Paulo’s needs. Cohen wasn’t being tossed aside by Paulo, but the outcome was the same if Paulo refused to acknowledge their relationship even in the safest of places.
Paulo wasn’t a mean or calculating type of person. All he wanted was to hide his feelings for Cohen away from the world. Paulo was quite literally putting his job above Cohen, putting his dream of being the world champion ahead of his love—lust?—for Cohen. Was Cohen being the mean one here by hoping they’d moved beyond that?
Paulo was under a lot of pressure with his job and Cohen would never really understand the drive and commitment it had taken Paulo to get this far. He understood the desire to stay safe and choose where to be out and where to stay closest, but he also didn’t want to be in a secret relationship, hidden, ashamed, away from the everyone in the world. He’d survived as himself for too long to hide again.
He stood up and leaned on the railing, staring down the cliff to the city below. Gah. Only a few months ago, he could never have imagined standing here—in fucking Monaco—worrying that Paulo’s reticence to be out meant that he didn’t care enough for Cohen. That fucking little voice in his head that told him Paulo must be embarrassed to be with him wouldn’t shut up. He wanted to scream and push it away. If he wasn’t out to anyone, it might be different, but for Paulo to not want to be with Cohen around people who knew Paulo was pansexual... Fucking hell, his thoughts cycled around and around until he barely knew which way was up.
“Fuck.” His voice was whipped away by the wind. It felt good, so he yelled it again and again until his throat stung and his lungs begged for relief. Now he just needed to put on his big boy pants and get on with the job. Regardless of his own feelings and expectations for their relationship, he was employed to be Paulo’s bodyguard and he wasn’t going to shirk on his duties just because Paulo had a different view of them than he did.
Cohen: Two rooms is fine if that’s your preference
He sent the text before he changed his mind, then tucked his phone back into his jean’s pocket. It was time to walk home—no, not home, to Paulo’s apartment—and figure out how they were going to work together now. Perhaps it was time to find his own apartment, his own space, where he could focus on his job without being in Paulo’s place all the time. They’d kept putting it off, but suddenly it felt necessary because if this was how Paulo wanted to do this, Cohen would figure out a way to survive. He was good at surviving and finding ways to thrive in less-than-ideal circumstances. He could deal with disappointment and a broken heart.
***
Paulo read Cohen’s text and invented all the subtext. His brain was spinning. It wasn’t his preference to have a separate hotel room to Cohen. Or was it? He’d basically freaked out on reading the email and blurted it out. Yes, he was out to his team, but telling them he was pansexual was a baby step compared to staying in the same room as his boyfriend during the fitness camp. No one else would be bringing their partners. Would people think he was wrong to be in a relationship with his bodyguard? Would they judge him? He wasn’t sure Cohen had it correct when he talked about Paulo not taking advantage of him. He’d grown up watching his father take advantage over everyone. It came with money and power, two things he had in spades around Cohen.
Last year’s winter break fitness camp had been incredibly hard work. He’d slept and ate and skied until his hands and feet were blistered and his muscles ached. The idea of fitting Cohen into that was too much. No, that was a lie. The idea of telling his team that he was in a relationship with Cohen, and they wanted to share a hotel room made him physically ill. He pressed his hands hard against his guts, as if he could keep down the bile that rose into his throat. He couldn’t even let himself contemplate how nice it would be to walk into his hotel room and have Cohen care for him. Nope, it couldn’t happen, so it wasn’t worth even letting his brain hope for it. He hadn’t expected Cohen to leave before they could talk about it. Talking about the most awkward things was one of the things Paulo loved about Cohen.
Love. Yes. Hope wormed its way inside his heart; cheeky fucker. There had to be a way he could fix this. He might be able to figure out how to keep his secret safe and not mess things up for Cohen. Cohen was the type of person who stuck around for him, and the fact that he’d bolted out of their apartment was a clue—a huge glaring one—that Paulo had fucked up. He knew exactly how he’d fucked up too; he just didn’t have a solution.
Paulo: Please come home and we can talk about this
Cohen: Home? You mean to your place.
Paulo’s stomach sank. Yeah, he’d really fucked this up. It was time to be honest.
Paulo: I want to be with you. I just don’t know how.
If he was open with his relationship with his team, it was a slippery slope to being open everywhere, and there was too much at stake for that. The team relied on the sponsorship money from Sanchez Shipping, a notion reinforced by spending time with Senior in Brazil. It wasn’t just about him and his seat, especially now with the season approaching quickly, and all the expense that had gone into developing the new season’s car. The reveal was only six weeks away, and pre-season testing—with the public watching—was only two months away. Paulo knew how fast that time would go. He sat on the floor, head in his hands, wishing there was a simple answer. If he was a better driver, his performance would naturally bring other sponsors to the team. But he wasn’t. Seventh out of twenty was the middle of the mid-field; good enough although it made a mockery of his claim to Senior that he’d be vying for the world champion trophy in the upcoming season. Perhaps if he could drive like the last three races of last season, there was a chance he’d score enough points to show the racing world that he deserved to be an S1 driver. Keeping his seat was such a low benchmark compared to the real, unachievable, goal of champion.
His eyes prickled and he pressed his fists against them. He’d driven well in those three races for one reason—Cohen. Having his steady presence around him constantly and knowing that Cohen would keep away all the distractions and noise on race weekends, was the one of reasons he’d driven so well. The biggest reason was having Cohen believe in him; the removal of doubt over his capabilities was so enticing and attractive, he wanted to keep that feeling forever.
He pushed himself up off the floor and did a few star jumps to get the blood flowing back into his legs. If he told Cohen all of this, it wouldn’t help. No one wanted to know that they were only kept around because they were useful. Ergh. There was too much of Senior in that thought; what a dick he was sometimes. He paced back and forth. It was time to face facts.
