This time, I take my seat first and hope Ransom has the good sense not to sit too close. He, Calypso, and Jonathan end up across from Aksel, Freja, and me.
“This is so quaint.” Calypso looks around. “Reminds me of when I was in St. Moritz. I went skiing there with?—”
I turn away from the name-dropping and watch the snowflakes glittering outside like crushed crystal.
The server fills our glasses with water and takes our drink orders.
“Didn’t know you were into rum,” Ransomcomments when I ask the server for their hot rum cocktail.
“They do it well here,” I say quietly.
I wish he’d stop talking to me, stop seeking me out. It’s hard to keep a straight face. Really, really hard. No matter how I feel about Calypso, I can’t compete with her. Ransom is a charismatic man, and he deserves to be with a beautiful, sophisticated woman like Calypso.
Regardless of my upbringing, which was stupendously resourceful and rich in all things, I am not likethem—the Calypsos, Margots, and the Frejas of the world. I am…how did Ransom put it once?Charmingly nerdy.
“What’s good here, Ransom?” Calypso pulls his attention away from me. I’ve seen her do it several times now.
She’s as subtle as a chainsaw because I see Freja lean to look at me, wiggling her eyebrows, silently asking, “What the fuck is this woman’s damage?” I shake my head, replying just as quietly, “Fuck if I know.” Aksel joins the silent conversation with his chin jutting out in query. We both shrug, “Yeah, she’s weird.” It’s sibling shorthand.
“The fondue,” Ransom suggests to Calypso.
She wrinkles her nose. “But it’s so heavy.”
“It’s winter. We’re supposed to eat heavy food.” Freja peers unnecessarily at the menu, which has remained unchanged for two decades.
“Being cold is no reason for gluttony.” Calypso laughs sarcastically, condescendingly.
Okay, enough is enough.
I’m annoyed at Ransom for bringing someone like her as a guest. But, I guess we have to get used to her if he marries her.
Jesus H. Christ!
“There’s a study out of Karolinska that showed people naturally crave calorie-dense foods in colder months.” I hold Ransom’s girlfriend’s gaze. “It’s for thermogenesis and mood regulation. It’s biology, not greed.”
Calypso straightens. Her eyes sharpen. “Thermo what?” she asks flippantly. “Scientists use such technical terms, don’t they?”
“Thermogenesis is the process of heat production in living organisms, a crucial part of metabolism and energy balance.” Aksel’s tone is steely.
He’s in his big brother protective mode.
“It refers to the dissipation of energy through the specialized production of heat, and it plays a role in maintaining body temperature and managing weight,” Freja adds.
The air goes taut with discomfort—Calypso’s.
You take one of us on, you take all of us on. That’s the Rousseau way.
The tension breaks when the server arrives with a bottle of Bordeaux, a Pauillac that Aksel had ordered.As the wine is tasted and poured into glasses for everyone, the conversation diverts.
No one wants to be rude to Calypso, but she’s notfittingin with us with her attitude. I feel bad for her. I know what it feels like to be an outsider. I decide to make an effort to make her feel more welcome. It’s not her fault that I’m still totally in love with her future husband.
“So, what does editor-at-large mean?” I ask because everyone is talking around Calypso.
She looks at me like I’m disturbing her, and I regret my impulse to make her feel included. Ransom turns then, as if curious to listen to our conversation.
She smiles, now that she hashisattention.
“It means I don’t have to be chained to a desk like the rest of the editorial staff. I pitch high-level features, oversee shoots, and conduct interviews with people of interest. Just last month, I interviewed Zendaya, and we did a photoshoot.”
