Page 90 of Tipping Point

Shit. I nod.

“But in Japan you said they weren’t renewing your contract.”

“Actually, I said I didn’t want to talk about it. And I still don’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Does it matter? I told you I was done with racing.” I lick at the corner of my mouth.

“I know, but I just assumed-”

“You assumed wrong.”

“Is everything okay?”

I shrug her off.

“Finn, please talk to me.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

“Camille, please.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You never told me you submitted the proposal to WebFlix Max.”

She frowns. “What? I…”

“Didn’t think it mattered?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Camille, it’s not like you had plans to hang around indefinitely. You were honest about that from the start. I did you the same courtesy.”

“You said that you found your passion for it again. Back in London when I asked you about how you’ve been driving.”

I just look at her as she thinks back, tries to remember. I don’t want to do this. When I made love to her last night, I was content. I had had my fill of her, could leave this world sated.

“But if you turned him down, then you won’t be a driver,” she continues. “You’ll be retired. You could…” she peters out.

“Camille.” My voice is low, empty. “I told you, I have nothing to offer women long term. You know that.”

She looks at me incredulously.

“What did you think this was?” I ask.

“Finn.” Her voice is barely audible.

“What do you expect from me?” I ask softly.

Her eyes are dark, but not stormy. It’s the blue black of the ocean, a mirrored surface, heavy currents underneath. An undertow of confusion.

“But these past few weeks?”

“What about them?” The words taste bitter. “You always planned on leaving.”

She scoffs.