“Wow.” I inject some enthusiasm into my tone. I have a vague idea that Zendaya is… someone important? Maybe a singer? Who the hell knows!
Calypso takes a sip of her wine and adds with a knowing glance, “It’s a role you grow into once you’ve earned a name. It’s less about deadlines, more about vision.”
Ransom’s eyes catch mine. There’s a challenge in them—as if he’s saying, ‘Don’t fuck with my woman.’
“Calypso is very sought after.”
“How wonderful it must be to interact with so many different people.” It wouldn’t be for me, but Calypso is an extrovert, so she probably enjoys it.
“Differentinfluentialpeople, darling,” she corrects me dismissively.
Okay, so this was a bad idea. Ransom is glaring at me like I’ve committed a crime, and Calypso is eyeing me as if I’ve come down with something contagious.
Thankfully, the food arrives. It’s a relief as conversation is all about who ordered what and why.
I love Alpine food. Regardless of Calypso saying it’s heavy, I enjoy how unapologetically indulgent it is.
My plate is loaded with crispy potatoes, melted reblochon, and caramelized onions. Freja ordered the raclette and is expertly scraping it over boiled potatoes.
“I almost skied professionally,” Calypso tells everyone when Freja mentions we’ll be heading for the slopes the following day. “But then I got into modeling and that was that.”
“Professionally?” Freja cocks an eyebrow. “Tell us more.”
Calypso laughs—light, airy, and about a decibel too loud. “Oh, you know. I was on this junior team thing when I was, like, fifteen? My coach said I had raw talent. But then I did this campaign for Roxy and kind of got scouted, and suddenly the only slopes I was on were for photoshoots.”
She titters and spears a tomato from her salad. “Istill have great form. And my balance is insane. From Pilates, mostly.”
Aksel changes the topic because no one wants to break it to Calypso that heactuallyskied professionally—during his university years at the Sorbonne, no less, where he competed on the French collegiate circuit and still holds some obscure slalom record that he likes to bring up to show off.
“Thomas loves to ski,” he says with paternal pride. “He falls more than he actually skis, but the kid loves it.”
“He’s the cutest kid on the planet.” Freja makes kissy sounds. “I can’t wait to get my hands on him and Anika.”
“You all seem very close, though you don’t live in the same city…country,” Calypso remarks. “My brother lives in London and I hardly ever see him.”
“Not even for the holidays?” Freja asks, horrified.
She can’t imagine a world where we’re not together at least once a month. I got into a lot of trouble with her when I missed Christmas last year, but I had been swamped and just couldn’t make it.
Calypso shrugs.
“Ember lives close by in Boston, so she and I have a monthly date.” Freja leans back, pushing her half-eaten plate toward her husband. “We live in DC…because of this guy’s job.”
Jonathan raises his glass. “Guilty! Freja hates DC, but she tolerates it for me.”
“I don’t hate it,” Freja protests. “I just—it’s just such a company town. And there are days I don’t want to know what kind of pork is in a spending bill—I just want to know what’s on the damn plate.”
“And where do you live, Aksel?” Calypso asks as she snuggles into Ransom.
“Brussels.”
“I love Brussels, but nothing beats San Francisco. Right, darling?” She lifts her face to Ransom, and he brushes his lips against hers.
My heart sinks.
“But the three of us and our families get together at least four or five times a year.” Aksel wraps an arm around me.
Calypso raises her brows. “Families? Oh, you have a partner, Ember?”
