Page 111 of Royally Drawn

“You don’t like children,” Ingrid said, her words biting.

I chuckled nervously. “I probably earned that one, Ingrid, but… that’s untrue.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she said in surprisingly good Norsk. “It’s not that you don’t like children. It’s that you don’t want tohavethem. Especially with women who lay their entire heart out before them.”

“You’ve been learning Norwegian in your spare time?” I changed the subject rather than explode into a defence of why none wastrue.

“I have been bored. My Danish is better, too.”

“Brilliant. You put us all to shame,” I said.

“I don’t need your judgement or your praise,” Ingrid said, irresistibly setting her jaw.

“I am not judging you. I’m… Ingrid, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your apologies. You’re not getting back in. You don’t deserve me,” she said in very terse Norwegian.

Only Ingrid would be so petty to learn the worddeservein Norsk in preparation for a time shemayuse it to stab me in the heart. I’d have found that insufferable if I hadn’t thought it was hot.

“I… I… I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t disagree with you. But I wish you would give me even five minutes, Ingrid.”

“So, you can break my heart in this room again?” She said it in French. She was hurt—not vindictive.

“Oh, there you are!”

Rick arrived. He was aterribleactor. This was a set-up. He’d sent Manon deliberately.

“She just came out of nowhere,” I said, returning the child. “I was about to find you.”

“Yes, he wasn’t staying,” Ingrid glared at me.

“Well, it’s alright. Come on, Manon. Let’s go find Mama.”

He left. I shook my head. “He parent-trapped us.”

“What?”

“He tried to get us back together after some time using an adorable child. Fucking hell. That is… impressive.”

Ingrid snickered. “He’s such a ridiculous sap.”

“I cannot blame him,” I said. “I only thought he wanted to kill me. That was the last word from my aunt on the matter.”

“He wants me to be happy,” Ingrid said. “As long as you didn’t come here to make me cry, you’re safe.”

“No,” I shook my head. “I don’t ever want to do that again.”

I resisted the impulse to run my hand through her silky strands. I so badly wanted to touch her—to pull her close and smell her floral, bright scent. Standing this close brought all those feelings back in a way they never had with any other ex. She wasstillThe One.

Ingrid sensed it. Her face softened momentarily, her brow relaxed, and her lips curled almost into a smile. Then, she returned to her uptight, strict persona.

“We can coexist,” Ingrid said.

“Ingrid, I don’t want to coexist,” I said. “I want… can we just talk for a moment?”

“No,” Ingrid said. “We’ve said enough. I won’t have you killed, okay? Nor strung up by your balls. Good?”

“I would like?—”

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