And in the hush of our intimacy, I vow, “I know, right now, all I have are words. But I won’t let you down. If you’re lost, I’ll be there. If you fall, I’ll catch you. I’ll wait for as long as it takes, work for as long as is needed to win your trust…and never stop.”
CHAPTER 31
Ember
It’s our last night in Chamonix.
My suitcase is half-packed.
My chest feels full in a way that makes me both happy and desperate.
It’s been a dream here. And now it’s time to wake up.
I’m scared.
Was this a mere holiday romance? Will it be able to sustain the daily onslaught of the mundane?
As much as I want to feel confident about Ransom and me, I don’t.
Old insecurities raise their ugly heads. He sees it. He tries to reassure me, and in the moment I am assuaged…but after….
The dining room is set for the last night of festivities. Everyone is leaving the following day, driving to Zurich, and flying from there.
Racquel brought out the blue and white porcelain plates andGrand’mere’ssilver soup ladle that is polished and cared for like it’s the Holy Grail.
Everyone’s a little tired, a little subdued—but there’s a contentment under the surface, like a collective exhale.
I slip into my chair between Jonathan and Ransom.
My hand brushes his under the table, and he turns to look at me as if I’m made of starlight.
My family notices.
No one’s going to be discreet. This is my family. Loud. Unfiltered, at least around this table.
Chef Pascal and Racquel are joining us for dinner. He’s ornery like Gordon Ramsey, only with a French accent.
Mama taps her knife against a wine glass, stands. “I want to start the evening by thanking Chef Pascal for making our holiday in Chamonix truly memorable.”
We all cheer Chef, who bows but maintains that arrogant look on his face that says, “But, of course, it was memorable; I was cooking.”
“I really liked theprofiteroos,” Thomas tells Chef.
“Profiteroles,” Latika tries to teach him.
“That’s what I said,” Thomas protests mutinously.
“My favorite was the chestnut cake,” Anika announces.
And so, everyone tells Chef what they liked. He’s mostly gracious—if a little haughty, which he’s earned, along with his Michelin star.
Then we thank Racquel for taking care of all of us while we’re here, and the chalet when we’re not.
That is the only planned part of dinner, after which, Mama gives everyonecarte blancheto do as they feel. “No more holiday duties,” she declares.
“We’re all leaving tomorrow, so, duh!” Freja quips.
Dinner is raucous.
