Pace Car – This is the car that leads the field to set the pace before, at the start, and restarts after cautions.

It was adorable watching Jameson during the championship week in Las Vegas. His usual arrogant demeanor had vanished, and he tried to downplay everything. Whenever confronted with the media, the quiet hesitant way he took everything told me he was nervous.

Jameson stayed back in the shadows, or at least he tried. Everyone was quick to praise Jameson Riley, the dominant beleaguered rookie, but what about Jameson Riley, the man behind the wheel?

Had they forgotten he even existed at all?

Maybe. I was actually positive some had. They wanted to believe he was that mythical creature that dominated and raced the flawless season. If only they understood the struggles, the tragedies, the overwhelming weight he carried to do so; they wouldn’t think he was so mythical. They would see he was just as much of a human as anyone else.

But I saw the man I always saw. My husband.

He was humble, alluring, and it was charming. I couldn’t get enough of him. I stayed close by his side the entire time like the proud wizard I was, my arm tucked inside of his. I felt like Priscilla Presley and Jameson was Elvis at all the attention we were receiving. The only difference—my hair wasn’t pinned up in that ridiculous beehive, and Jameson wasn’t sporting side burns that resembled handlebars, but the attention was the same.

The crowning of the champion started on Wednesday and began with the NASCAR Street Tour followed by a Pit Stop Tour. The next was a charity event at Las Vegas Motor Speedway. They do tours of the speedway and a family feud-style game show, which was hilarious watching Tate, Bobby, and Jameson joking around with each other in front of hundreds of fans. They all seemed to have formed a bond over the last few months, and it showed.

Thursday was the awards luncheon where they announced the most popular driver. For the third year in a row, Tate was chosen as the most popular driver, for good reason. I had a feeling he’d always be a fan favorite.

The drivers in the top ten then do a lap down the Vegas Strip in their race cars, which included a pit stop along the route and two burnout sections for the drivers. Jameson enjoyed this part the best, as did his wife. The guys messed around bumping and banging against each other for entertainment value.

After the lap, was a fan event that featured a question-and-answer session with the drivers.

Friday was the day of the ceremony and the crowning of the Winston Cup Series Champion driver... my husband.

Van was kept busy that week. He really couldn’t leave Jameson’s side these days, but Jameson was modest about the sudden fame and insisted Van stay close to me. I was amazed to see how many fans wanted pictures with me as well.

The night of the ceremony, Jameson was leaving earlier than the rest of us. Before he left, he wrapped me in his arms as he said goodbye. “I’ll see you down there,” he said quietly, his voice laced with uneasiness.

Closing the distance between us, I asked, “You’re nervous?” I reached up to cup his cheek, tracing the curve of his lips with my thumb.

“Mmm.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine. I felt him draw in a quick breath as his eyes fell closed. “I never thought I’d be this nervous.”

“You’ll do fine. Just think of me naked.”

His eyes opened, his grin was getting wider, his lips curving up into a broad smile. “That’s not going to help, you know that, right?” He shifted away from me. “See, clearly not going to help,”

I giggled. “Already, wow.”

“You have no idea, honey,” he whispered breathlessly and turned toward the door. “Van?” he called out. “Can you walk Sway down in a few minutes?”

Van stepped inside the room with Spencer. They both wore the same smile. “I don’t think that’s wise... shit’s really hit the fan out there.” Van and Spencer exchanged a chuckle.

 “What are you talking about?” Jameson asked, adjusting his tie and then slipping on his jacket. “What shit?”

“Well, for one... there’s an avid fan outside the door who is naked... wanting you to sign her...” Van’s voice faded, his eyes motioned south.

“Really?” Jameson asked, nodding his head arrogantly. “Is she hot?”

I elbowed him in the stomach. His mouth opened as though he was going to reply, but he quickly stopped himself when I glared. Instead, he ran his hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up on one side. “I was only kidding.”

“Tommy’s out there right now with her,” Spencer told us. I had a feeling they had a picture on their phones from the way they both kept glancing at them.

Van laughed again. “Spencer can walk Sway down in a few minutes.” He looked at Jameson. “We should go now though before that one fan turns into one hundred.”

Jameson left after that, as did Spencer and me.

“Wait... why did the elevator stop?” I was in instant panic mode when the lights flickered and then went out.

Spencer pounded on the doors and pushed every button; granted I couldn’t see this, but I assumed that’s what he was doing by all the pounding and clicking.

“I don’t know...” he muttered trying to get his cell phone to work. The buttons lit up his face as he did so. Of course, we had no reception in the metal tube.

“I’m getting really claustrophobic, Spencer.” I started fanning myself with my purse. “We have to get out of here.”

“I know... but the emergency button isn’t working, and neither is my cell phone.”

“We are in a metal tube. It’s not going to work.”

On top of being incredibly claustrophobic, I was burning up. Here I was, eight months pregnant and, I swear to God, I was carrying around a baby the size of a goddamn toddler in my stomach, so, yeah, I was burning up.

“It’s hot in here,” I complained.

“Just take your dress off,” Spencer suggested with a hint of amusement.

“No!”

“Why not? It’s dark, and we are alone in an elevator. No one will know.”

“I’m not taking my clothes off around you.” I pushed myself further back in the corner to avoid touching him.

“Puh-lease... I’ve already seen you naked.”

“Not really the point, Spencer.”

It was quiet for a couple minutes before he chuckled. “I’ll take my pants off if it makes you feel better.”

He was so clueless sometimes. “Spencer?”

“Yeah...?”

“Keep your fucking clothes on,” I said sternly.

“Are you mad at me? It’s not my fault the elevator is down.”

“If I go into labor because I’ve missed Jameson’s speech, I will kill you!” I blew up at him. “After I have the baby,”

“That’s harsh.”

“No, it’s not.”

There were another few moments of blissful silence before he spoke again, “Do you think you’ll actually have the baby in here?”

“I sure hope not. I’m only thirty-two weeks, and the last thing I want is you delivering my baby.”

All was quiet for another five minutes or so as I began to have a full-fledged panic attack. It was similar to the one I had with the penis and my wedding.

“Sorry,” Spencer muttered, shifting away when his leg touched mine. I heard him sigh deeply as his head fell back against the wall of the elevator. “It’s just me.”

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s you,” I told him, perturbed. “We are the only two people in here.”

“I know. I thought it would make you less freaked out. It could be worse.”

“It couldn’t be any worse, and it’s not making me feel less freaked out. The only thing that will make me less freaked out would be watching Jameson’s speech right now!” My voice rose continuously until by the end of my rant, I was screaming at him.

Maybe it was the resonance of my voice, but then the elevator jolted, plummeting about a foot before halting. A loud voice echoed the doors, “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, man, just get us out of here,” Spencer said. “My little brother is giving a speech downstairs, and his wife will kill me if we miss it.”

The elevator jolted once more and then the heavens opened, as did the elevator doors.

“Thank God!” I wailed, clinging to Spencer’s burly arm. I was wearing a dress and nylons were not an option with this belly so when my bare leg brushed against Spencer’s bare leg, I shook my head in disgust that I was now related to this. “You don’t have your pants on, do you?”

“Nope,” he replied calmly.

“You have got to be shitting me,” I mumbled, looking away from him.

There was a three-foot jump we had to make to get out of elevator so Spencer had to lift my fat ass up so the technician could pull me out. “I was wrong... this could get worse.”

“Nice panties.”

“Stop looking, you jerk!”

“What was that, ma’am?” the man grunted as he hefted me up.

Spencer chuckled.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, straightening out my dress as Spencer pulled himself up with little effort.

I didn’t wait for Spencer to put his pants back on before I was sprinting to the banquet hall. And if you’d never seen an eight-month pregnant woman sprinting, it resembled a sea lion moving at full speed. If it weren’t for Spencer holding on to me, I probably would have tripped seeing how I was trying to use my body weight to shift myself from side to side in an attempt to move quicker.

I resisted the urge to clap my hands together and squeal like a sea lion, though I was incredibly tempted to.

When we walked inside, my husband was approaching the podium.

To me, one of the worst parts about winning the championship was knowing what to say. I had no idea.

Looking down at my speech, my thoughts drifted to the season that got me here today, and then the speech again as I scribbled a few more notes.

Tossing the pen aside, I wiped my sweaty palms on my suit jacket. My eyes caught the stare of a security guard to my left watching me. He looked at me as though I was just an out of place kid. Right then I felt like one.

I could do this. I looked at the paper folded in my hand again and realized that I hadn’t written a speech at all, I’d written my season.

The introduction on stage drew my attention.

“He’s an American legend in the making and a dirt track prodigy from the Pacific Northwest who has taken his talent to the highest levels. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your NASCAR Winston Cup Series Champion, and Raybestos Rookie of the Year, driver of the number nine Simplex Shocks and Springs Ford, Jameson Riley!”

I think I may be having a panic attack. Yep, definitely a panic attack.

I tried taking in a deep breath to calm myself.

I’d won championships before but nothing this huge. This was beyond words.

My heart pounded rapidly as I trudged toward the microphone, peering through the darkness into the crowd. I started by speaking about the season and all the changes we had encountered. I joked with everyone in attempt to hide my nervousness. My eyes glanced over my speech, or whatever it was I scribbled.

“I don’t even know what to say here... I can’t believe this. For my first season in cup, it had its fair share of ups and downs and trials and errors. I never thought I’d have the season I had. I never thought I’d win twelve races and the championship in my rookie season, but I guess I did.” I chuckled lightly, peering down at my hands on the podium crumpling the edges of the paper. “I have to thank my dad, and car owner, Jimi Riley.” I looked directly at him sitting on stage; he smiled and gave a tight nod. “Without you I wouldn’t have a car to drive but, more importantly, when I told you what I wanted to do for a living you never discouraged me. Mom.” She gave me a heartfelt smile, choking back tears, her hands clasped over her mouth. “I... I couldn’t have asked for a more supportive mother. You deserve way more credit for having to put up with all of us, but you really are the heart of everything we are.”

I noticed Spencer and Sway had finally arrived. “Spencer, Emma, Alley, Tommy and Aiden... I love you guys and thanks for putting up with my attitude and being a friend to me, even though I don’t always tell you how much I appreciate you guys, I do. You have no idea how comforting it is for me to have family around, reminding me of what is real and where I come from. I may be a champion now, but inside I will always be that small town dirt track racer from Elma, Washington.” I heard Spencer scream from the table and pump his fists in the air. “I also have to personally thank the guys on my sprint car team—they are just as much a part of this even though they are not personally on the cup team. Those guys, Tommy, Justin, Tyler... all you have to do is say the word and they are there for you. Thank you.

“Kyle, I’m amazed you’ve stuck by me with the shit I’ve put you through and all my mood swings the last few years, but you did. You provide our team with the direction and focus to win. It took us a while to get the hang of each other but, when we did, we were unstoppable.” I gestured to the trophy. “I think that trophy there says it all. I know I can be difficult to work with,” I rolled my eyes when he arched his eyebrow, “... so, thank you. Everyone at Riley Racing who comes to the track or those of you who are behind the scenes, thank you. You’re the best. Tony, Harry, my grandpa, who provides our engines, you guys put up with my inability to ever be satisfied with the car, which I know is a pain in the ass. Simplex Shocks and Springs, without you none of this would be possible. Thank you so much for sticking behind us this year as our sponsor and sponsoring my sprint car team. The fans, thank you, without you guys, this sport wouldn’t be what it is today.”

I looked at Tate and Bobby.

“Tate... you took a chance on a smug kid who smoked you on the track.” He laughed out loud along with Bobby. “Thank you as well for knocking some sense into me when I needed it.” Tate dipped his head and clapped. “Bobby, you are one of the most magnanimous people I think I’ve ever met besides my mother. As a teammate, you’re the best there is, and as a driver you’re incredibly talented. I’m lucky to have you to learn from.”

My head bowed, taking in a deep, unsteady breath, tears burning my eyes, and the vulnerability I tried to hide was there for everyone to see and judge.

Don’t cry on national television. Don’t cry.

“This season, after a very unfortunate event....” I drew in another deep breath trying not to let the memories and images overtake me. “I set out determined to race the perfect season in an attempt to hide the pain I was feeling and prove that I could do it. Someone very special to me asked me to win, to be the kid she met when she was eleven. So, for her, for myself, I put everything else aside. I put that anger, that resentment I felt into winning.” I looked down at my feet, shifting my weight as I swallowed over the insanely large lump in my throat. “Sway... my wife ...” My voice cracked, and I couldn’t help it any longer when my eyes finally looked up and met hers.

She was sitting there, her eyes focused on mine in the most beautiful black dress I’d ever seen her in besides our wedding day. Her porcelain skin stood out in contrast to the black and the mahogany of her hair. She smiled, closing her eyes, her hands resting on our child inside her.

“Honey, you’ve been there for me since I was eleven, and I never really thought about what that really meant to me until Daytona. I never thought I would ever get here, but I did, because of you and my family. When I left home at seventeen to pursue my dream—everyone thought I was just some wide-eyed kid with an attitude, but I was far from that, because of you. Every time I’ve thought about quitting, it’s been you who has brought me back, showing me this is what I was meant to do. You are my best friend. All of this was for you, my beautiful girl. Thank you... for everything.” I felt tears slip down my cheeks as my hands fumbled with the podium. “I never thought the day would come when I could finally call you my wife... but that day did come, and I can honestly say you make me the happiest man alive. I love you.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, I looked into the crowd as they clapped.

To me, this was worth all those sacrifices racing on the edge. Even if I never won another championship again, I would remember this moment right here.

I was a champion.