Page 152 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

He slowed a few times and stood to take them through some crests and dips, but within the half hour they were in the more populated outskirts of Cervinia. He followed a track upward toward a beautiful older chalet that backed onto a forest and had a view of the valley. It had the charm of a well-loved private home and the staff exuded an air of ownership as they took their helmets and outerwear.

A gorgeous couple stood as they were shown into a sumptuous living room. Rafael was tall and dark like Atlas and almost as handsome. Alexandra was the epitome of American beauty with a slender, elegant figure, shiny ash-blond hair and confidence that radiated like sunshine. She wore leggings with a tunic-style top and minimal makeup, which immediately put Stella at ease that she wasn’t underdressed.

Alexandra’s curious gaze skimmed her, seeming to note Atlas’s hand in her lower back.

The inspection made Stella brace for a judgy remark, but Alexandra only said, “We were so relieved when Rafael saw your text that you weren’t skiing. Atticus is teething and had us up half the night. I really didn’t want to leave him when he’s not feeling well so it was nice to have an excuse for a lazy day. Shall we have a drink in the sunroom before we eat?”

“This is a beautiful chalet,” Stella murmured as they walked through to the closed-in terrace. Overstuffed furniture was draped with colorful knit throws and tasseled cushions. A small gas fireplace kept it cozy while the windows overlooked snow-covered trees, village rooftops and the rugged mountainside.

“The decor is unique, isn’t it?” Rafael sent an amused glance to the chandelier made of deer antlers. “It belongs to our friend’s grandfather. He bought it when he married sixty-odd years ago. They only allow family to use it, so I guess that makes us family?” He directed the last to his wife with a tone of discovery.

Alexandra gave him a look that was filled with the sort of private joke amusement that only a couple perfectly attuned to each other’s thoughts could share.

Stella immediately felt a stab of envy, wondering if she would ever have that with anyone. Not with Atlas. She cut him a glance, unable to read him at all and feeling rebuffed. She’d told him she wanted him to be her first and he had been cool ever since. Was that the issue? Was he turned off by her lack of experience?

He caught her looking at him and a spearing sensation went into her chest, one that emanated painful heat through the rest of her body.

His expression altered, not softening exactly, but asking a question. She gave him a small smile. She was fine. They didn’t have to leave.

“I won’t ask why you decided to come to this side,” Alexandra said drily while looking between them as though she’d seen their byplay. “It sounds like you live in Zermatt, Stella?”

“I do. I grew up near Bern, but I moved to Zermatt when I was eighteen.”

“You’re lucky. This is a beautiful part of the world.” Alexandra leaned forward to pick up her Aperol spritz, adding in a self-deprecating tone, “I say that like I want it for myself. The truth is, our son is an excuse. I was already complaining it was too cold to ski. I always think snow sports are a fun idea until I arrive on the mountain and remember that snow does not fall in temperatures anywhere near seventy degrees.”

“Sasha is a delicate hothouse orchid,” Rafael teased, picking up her free hand and kissing her knuckles. “I’ll take everyone skiing when they arrive,” he promised her. “You can stay with Atticus if you want to.”

“That’s probably the only way I’ll get to hold my own baby,” she said ruefully.

Stella tried not to stare, but they epitomized what she wanted in a relationship—someone who knew her well and offered casual affection and had a nickname for her. Someone whose small shows of support demonstrated deep understanding and indulgence. Someone who loved her the way Rafael clearly loved his wife.

She caught Atlas studying her again and replaced whatever yearning was on her face with a helpful smile. “Please let me know if you decide to ski our side. I can connect you with anything you might need—passes, guides…”

It was something she did regularly as part of her job, but she thought she felt Atlas stiffen as she said it. Why couldn’t she do anything right around him?

“Good to know. Thank you.” Rafael nodded with appreciation.

The conversation meandered from ski conditions to the book on the table—a romance that Stella had been meaning to pick up for herself—to whether this or that person was reputed to be in town.

Stella didn’t feel too excluded by the name-dropping. She was familiar with the lofty families and celebrities who owned homes or made regular visits to the area. She even contributed snippets of intel on who was likely to make an appearance at which time of year.

Alexandra was an absolute queen as a hostess, guiding them to the dining room and keeping the conversation moving without being intrusive. They were finishing dessert when she abruptly rose.

“That’s Atticus.” She nodded to the maid, who had come in with a baby monitor. “We gave the nanny the day off so I’ll get him. He’s liable to give you a cold shoulder since he’s not feeling well, but would you like to meet him?” she asked Stella.

“I’d love to,” Stella said sincerely, even though she suspected an ulterior motive in being asked to come upstairs.

Alexandra asked the maid to prepare a bottle and led Stella to the nursery, where she gathered up the infant who was fussing in the crib. He wore fuzzy blue pants with a matching shirt and had lost a slipper during his nap. He rubbed his face into his mama’s shoulder as she cradled him there.

“Your bottle is coming, little man,” Alexandra soothed, petting his sweaty curls and straightening his clothes.

“He’s gorgeous.” Stella tilted her head to glimpse his flushed cheek and dark eyes and the pudgy fist he was gnawing. “How old is he?”

“Six months. He was premature, so more like four. His teeth are on the early side, if we count from his due date.” Alexandra patted his diaper to ensure it didn’t need changing. “The truth is, I’d always rather be home with him,” she confided. “Whether he’s happy or grumpy. He’s our little miracle. I only agreed to ski today because the men were doing the heli thing and Iris would have— Never mind. I’m speaking out of turn.”

Stella doubted Alexandra ever made a social misstep. She was providing an opening for Stella to spill some tea on Iris or Atlas or herself.

“Not at all.” Even before she had worked with the public, Stella had learned how to walk the thorny spaces around telling the truth without implicating herself or blaming anyone else. “I can’t speak for Iris or her reasons for leaving, but the photos completely skewed a very tame story. Atlas and I met when he came to Zermatt five years ago. We hadn’t seen each other until yesterday. The only reason I’m here with him today is wingman. I think he was hoping for exactly this—that I would chat with you and give him a chance to talk privately with your husband.”

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