The chairlift ride was silent, a slow ascent into a world of white and gold. At the top of the ridge, the air was thin and crisp. They were the only two people on the run.
They skied over to the edge of the ridge, looking down into the valley below. The chalet was just a tiny speck of timber among the pines.
William took off his goggles and looked at her. The sunlight caught the gold in her hair. “We made it,” he said softly.
“We did,” Victoria replied. She looked out at the jagged peaks. “For a while, I didn’t think we would. The divorce, Seraphina, the birth in the storm, Arthur… it feels like we’ve been fighting a war since the day we met.”
“The war is over,” William said. He reached out, his gloved hand touching her cheek. “I promise you, Victoria. No more fighting. No more enemies. Just this.”
“Just us,” she whispered.
He leaned in and kissed her. It was cold and warm all at once, a seal on a promise. For a moment, on top of the world, they were untouchable.
—