Synopsis: Lando takes his new girlfriend to the Belgian GP to meet his mum, Cisca - who instantly adores her. They spend the whole weekend glued together, cheering Lando on and bonding like family, while Lando keeps checking on them, completely soft and smitten.
You’d been to races before - a handful, scattered across the calendar, tucked into hospitality while pretending you weren’t melting every time Lando looked up and winked at you - but this one felt different. This one felt like a turning point.
Because this wasn’t just any race.
This was Belgium.
His mum’s home race.
And you were meeting her properly for the first time.
Lando had been buzzing for days, bouncing around the house like a golden retriever who’d had too much sugar. He kept saying things like “She’s gonna love you, babe” and “Honestly, she’s more excited to meet you than she was for my first podium” - which you were pretty sure wasn’t true, but he said it with such conviction you almost believed him.
When the McLaren jet touched down, he reached across the aisle, lacing his fingers through yours.
“You ready?” he asked, eyes bright.
“Are you?” you teased.
He grinned. “Nope. But my mum is. She’s been texting me every hour asking what time we land.”
You leaned your head on his shoulder as the plane taxied. “She’s excited.”
“She’s obsessed with you already,” he said, kissing your temple. “And she hasn’t even met you yet.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Cisca Norris stood waiting - elegant, composed, sunglasses on, arms crossed like she was inspecting the runway. Lando practically skipped down to her.
“Mum!” he called.
She hugged him tight, rocking him side to side like he was still ten years old. Then she turned to you.
And her whole face softened.
“You,” she said warmly, stepping forward and taking both your hands. “I finally get to meet the girl who makes my son insufferably happy.”
“Mum,” Lando groaned.
But she ignored him, pulling you into a hug that smelled like perfume and home.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she murmured. “We’re spending the whole weekend together. I’ve already decided.”
You blinked. “Oh-okay.”
Lando mouthed help me.
You mouthed back never.
—
Cisca looped her arm through yours and marched you toward the paddock like you’d known each other for years. Lando trailed behind, watching the two of you with a soft, proud smile.
“Everyone is staring,” you whispered.
“Of course they are,” Cisca said. “You’re beautiful.”
Inside the McLaren motorhome, staff greeted her like royalty - and then immediately turned their attention to you.
“So this is the girlfriend,” one of the engineers said.
Cisca squeezed your arm. “Yes. Isn’t she lovely?”
Lando groaned again. “Can everyone stop acting like I brought home a celebrity?”
“You basically did,” Cisca said.
He leaned down, whispering in your ear, “I’m happy they like you. I just… I want this to go well.”
“It already is.”
He kissed your cheek before being dragged away for briefing.
“Go,” you told him. “I’ll be with your mum.”
He hesitated - because lately he always did, like he didn’t want to leave you for even a second - then finally jogged off.
Cisca watched him go, then turned to you with a knowing smile. “He’s different with you.”
“How?”
“Calmer. Softer. Happier.” She paused. “He’s been through a lot. You’re good for him.”
You swallowed, touched. “I care about him a lot.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I like you.”
You and Cisca spent qualifying together in hospitality, and she was hilarious. Every time Lando went purple in a sector, she clapped. Every time he got blocked, she cursed in Dutch. Every time the commentators mentioned him, she elbowed you like “That’s my son.”
You were laughing so hard you barely noticed the cameras turning toward you.
“Oh no,” you whispered. “They’re filming us.”
“Good,” Cisca said. “Let them see how beautiful my future daughter‑in‑law is.”
You choked. “Cisca!”
She smirked. “What? I can’t say what he’s already thinking?”
Your face burned.
When Lando finished P3, Cisca jumped up, cheering, pulling you into a hug.
“He’ll be so happy,” she said. “Come, let’s go meet him.”
Lando spotted you before he spotted his mum. He jogged over, helmet under his arm, curls damp, face flushed - and he went straight to you.
“Hi,” he breathed, kissing you without caring about the cameras.
You smiled. “Hi.”
“How’d I do?”
“Ask your mother.”
Cisca cupped his face. “I’m proud of you, schat.”
He grinned. “Thanks, mum.”
“But your girlfriend cheered louder than I did.”
Lando turned to you, eyes softening. “Did you?”
“Maybe.”
He kissed you again, longer this time.
—
The next morning, you woke up in the hotel to Lando’s arm draped over your waist, his face buried in your neck.
“Morning,” he mumbled.
“Morning.”
“You nervous?”
“A little.”
He kissed your shoulder. “Don’t be. She loves you.”
“She kidnapped me yesterday.”
“She does that when she likes someone.”
You laughed, rolling over to face him. “You ready for today?”
He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “More ready now that you’re here.”
—
On the grid, Cisca held your hand the entire time, guiding you through the chaos like you were her own daughter. Lando kept glancing over at you both, smiling every time.
Before getting into the car, he kissed you once, then kissed his mum’s cheek.
“Be safe,” Cisca said.
“Drive smart,” you added.
He winked. “Always.”
You and Cisca stood shoulder to shoulder as the lights went out.
The race was stressful - a very Lando race. Every overtake had Cisca clutching your arm. Every radio message had you biting your lip. Every lap had both of you leaning forward like you could will the car faster.
When he crossed the line P2, Cisca screamed.
You screamed.
You hugged each other like you’d known each other forever.
“He did it!” she cried. “He really did it!”
“He’s going to be so happy,” you said.
“He’s going to be happy because you’re here,” she corrected.
When Lando stepped onto the podium, champagne bottle in hand, he scanned the crowd. Not for his team. Not for the cameras. Not for the fans.
For you.
And when he found you - standing beside his mum, both of you waving - his whole face lit up. He tapped his heart twice, pointing at you.
Cisca squeezed your hand. “He’s gone,” she said. “Completely gone for you.”
You swallowed hard. “I think I’m gone for him too.”
“I know,” she said softly. “I can see it.”
Lando ran to you the second he was released from media. He didn’t slow down - just wrapped you up in his arms, lifting you off the ground.
“You were amazing,” you said into his neck.
“You were here,” he murmured. “That’s what matters.”
He set you down only to pull his mum into a hug too.
“Proud of you,” she said.
“Love you, mum.”
Then he turned back to you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.
“Did you have fun with her?”
“She’s my new best friend.”
Cisca beamed. “Good. Because I’m stealing her for dinner.”
Lando pouted. “What about me?”
“You can come if you behave.”
—
Dinner was warm, loud, full of laughter. Cisca told embarrassing stories about Lando’s childhood. Lando kept grabbing your hand under the table. You kept catching him staring at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.
When Cisca stepped away to take a call, Lando shifted closer, knee brushing yours.
“She really likes you,” he said.
“I really like her.”
He exhaled, relieved. “Good. Because I want you in my life for a long time. And she’s… she’s a big part of it.”
Your heart flipped.
“Lando…”
“I’m not saying anything crazy,” he said softly. “I just… I feel really good with you. And seeing you with her today? It felt right.”
“It did.”
He kissed you - slow, sweet, certain.
—
Later, curled up in bed, his head on your chest, he whispered, “Thank you for today.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do,” he said. “Because this was one of the best weekends of my life. And it wasn’t because of the podium.”
“No?”
“No.” He looked up at you, eyes warm. “It was because you were here. With me. With my mum. It felt like… like a family.”
Your breath caught.
He smiled softly. “I’m really happy, you know.”
“I am too.”
He kissed your collarbone, then settled back against you.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
You held him tighter.
“Neither am I.”
And in the quiet of the Belgian night, with Lando wrapped around you and the echoes of the Grand Prix still humming in your chest, you realised something simple and certain:
“i’m happy i cried as well. not many things in my life have ever made me cry. but today was one i didn’t know if i was gonna, but i came under the tunnel on the last lap and i thought of my mom and that thought made me cry, thinking of how happy she would be, and my dad.”
