Chapter 22 #2
“Now, I’m terrified again—but for different reasons. Because I know exactly what I’m losing if you walk away.”
Ember bends and takes another bite of the crêpe.
I’m thrilled she’s letting me feed her.
It’s making this whole interrogation—this unraveling of my pride, this scalpel-sharp exposure—feel just a little easier and softer.
She’s taking care of me, even when I’m the one who’s supposed to be proving something. Even now, when she has every right to walk away, to leave me bleeding on the floor of my own regrets, she offers me this small, subtle grace of eating from my hand, as she asks her questions.
It undoes me.
“And Calypso?”
The name slices the air clean in half.
“It was…call it companionship, sex.” I hold up the crêpe to her, and she shakes her head. She’s had enough.
She drinks some of her chocolate. I set the crêpe down on the plate, and pick up my chocolate, which is now no longer piping hot, but still warm and delicious.
“If she wasn’t important, why did you bring her here to be with the family during the holidays? That…Ransom, that indicates you were serious.”
Because I was a dumb fucking fool!
“I know. I thought because I told her this was just a holiday, she’d…anyway, she thought it was more than it was.”
Ember makes a humming sound, as if she’s hearing what I’m saying, and she’s not impressed.
“I…I thought you wouldn’t be here, but I was…well, I wasn’t sure, and I needed a buffer.”
“What?” she snaps.
I smile at her, feeling more than a little ashamed. “You know, for a man who kept going on about how much older I am, I’ve been acting like a damn teenager. Instead of telling you how I feel, I lied to myself. Pretended I felt nothing. Used another woman like a shield just to protect my own heart.”
She doesn’t respond, just looks at me, waiting. And I know this is the moment. This is real. No half-truths, no filters.
“I met Olivia when I was twenty-eight. She was beautiful, magnetic, and when she walked into a room, everyone noticed her. That…that used to be my type, or so I thought. We were married for six years after dating for two. I thought we were happy, and then I found out she’d been cheating on me.
For over a year.” I pause, swallowing down the sour weight of memory.
“With someone she met at a conference in London.”
Ember’s eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t tell anyone at first. Not even my parents. I was ashamed. I kept thinking, I’m a surgeon, I’m not supposed to miss signs. I fix things. I see patterns. And yet…I missed this. I couldn’t fix this.”
I exhale hard, rubbing a hand across my jaw.
“I’ve been running ever since. From anything real. From anyone who could hurt me. Because it turns out, when someone you trust rips your heart out, it doesn’t make you braver—it makes you hide. And that’s what I’ve been doing. Until I saw you again a few days ago, here in Chamonix.”
Her brows knit. “Freja said your marriage ended badly, but she didn’t know the details.”
“Not many do,” I admit. “I never talked about it. I didn’t want pity.
I didn’t want people to think I’d lost control of my life.
But being here, with you, I realized I’ve been surviving, not living.
Just…passing time. And I don’t want that anymore.
I want a life that feels full. A family.
A partner. You. Because of who you are, not because of what you represent.
Not because of guilt or history, but because you challenge me, inspire me.
Because being with you is the only time I’ve ever felt truly at peace and completely alive. ”
She shakes her head slowly, her expression wary. “I…it all seems a bit too convenient, Ransom. I…are you saying these things because the family knows now? Because you’re backed into a corner? Trying to…I don’t know, save face?”
The words sting, but I don’t flinch.
“No. I’m saying them because for the first time in years, I’m not scared of feeling them anymore.” Enough is fucking enough. I’ve made mistakes, but not on this one thing. “And your family knows because I told them. My family knows because I told them.”
Her lips twitch. “How did your mother take it?”
She knows my mother, who’s more Freja than Margot—and she adores Ember.
“There was some talk about a rusty knife and my balls. It’s a good thing they’re in Antarctica for the next several weeks.”
Ember huffs out a short laugh.
“My father said if I had any brains, I’d put a ring on it.” I take her hand in mine. Rub the skin over her ring finger.
She gasps, pulls her hand away. “Then why did you say those things to her? Why make me sound like a mistake?”
“I wasn’t thinking, Em. I just wanted her to stop talking about you. I wanted her gone. I wasn’t…wasn’t even paying attention to what she was saying because I was getting ready to kick her out of the chalet on fucking Christmas Eve.”
I pause, swallowing the knot rising in my throat.
“I hurt you—viciously. And even if you could forgive me, I don’t know that I ever could. Of all the people in the world, you were the one who never deserved it.”
Tears fill her eyes, and I groan. “Oh, baby.”
She sniffles and then shakes her head. Then she says so softly that I have to strain to hear her, “For five years I couldn’t get over you.”
My breath catches.
“I kept thinking…I must have done something wrong. I must have said too much, been too needy. I wasn’t polished enough. Not clever enough. Too young. I didn’t realize how deep it had gone until I saw you again. Until I heard you talk about me like I was a misstep.”
“Em,” her name breaks in my throat.
She presses on. “You want to know what that did to me? It made me stop trusting myself. My instincts. My emotions. Because clearly, they led me to someone who didn’t believe in me. And now…now you show up, with your note and chocolate and sincere apologies, and you want me to believe in you again?”
A tear slips through. She swipes it off her cheek.
“I don’t trust you,” she states, blunt but not cruel. “And worse…I don’t trust myself. That scares me more than anything. Because what if I follow my feelings and it leads me into harm’s way?”
The fire crackles softly between us.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “I can’t promise you I won’t ever mess up again.
But I can promise that I’ll stay and make things right.
I won’t run from us. You were not the immature one, Em.
I was. You were brave. You loved with everything you had, and I didn’t deserve that back then.
But I want to earn it now. If you’ll let me. ”
Silence falls between us, thick and trembling.
She doesn’t say anything, just drinks her chocolate. Mine has gone cold, so I set it aside. In any case, I’m full of anxiety. There isn’t room for anything else in my body.
“What now?” she asks, staring at the mountains.
I want to stand up, beat my fists on my chest, and roar with relief. With love. With hope.
But I don’t. I stay seated, quiet.
Because this is delicate.
She’s not handing me her heart—she’s letting me show her I deserve a place near it.
Because now, I know: the only way back is through trust earned, not begged for.
“Now we take one step. And then another.” I reach over, slow and careful, and place my fingers beneath her chin. Gently, I tilt her face toward me until her eyes meet mine. “We figure out who we are and who we can be. Together.”
She licks her lips. “And it doesn’t mean we’re dating, right?”
Like hell it doesn’t!
“Whatever you want. However you want it.” I take her hand in mine, squeeze it.
“I…I need to think about it, Ransom.” She doesn’t pull away.
You think all you want, Sweet Em, but I’m not letting you go.
“Like I said, whatever you want.”
We sit in silence after that, broken only by the soft rustle of wind through the trees.
It feels good. Maybe the start of something.