Page 110 of Royally Drawn

Betty left. Lars snickered.

“What is so funny?” I asked. “Is my pain funny?”

“No. I mean, a little? Someone from our household is in bed with your ex. It’s just the wrong one of us,” Lars said.

I pretended to pull back and throw a punch. Lars nearly hit the floor.

“Woah, mate. I swear, I’m not going to. It’s a bloody funeral.”

“Knowing our past, I require clarity, Keir.”

I patted him on the back.

“For the record, Keir, you should at least say hello. The vibes are off.”

“I don’t think I can say anything to her without a bout of verbal diarrhoea, Lars.”

“You’re going to be here for two days. That’s a hell of a long time.”

“She is welcome to approach me.”

“That would never happen,” Lars said. “She isn’t going to chase you. Nor would youwanther to. That’s not your thing.”

He was right. I would have felt it was needy. I wanted her to play hard to get. That ground my gears. It’s what started this whole thing. I contemplated how I could approach her and restrain myself. I didn’t know how to say a mere “hello” to a woman I still knew was The One and The Only. It was Ingrid, or there was no one. I was still mulling it over when I felt something tugging on the leg of my trousers.

Looking down, I spotted a baby. It had to be the youngest Deschamps girl.

“Manon, have you gotten loose?” I asked, picking her up. “Did you break out of jail?”

“Did she just get loose? Do you have four kids and not care if you lose one?” Lars joked in Norsk.

“I should go return her, right?” I asked Lars.

Lars nodded. “You’re obligated.”

Despite our protests and wise manoeuvring, I must talk to Ingrid. I approached the child on my hip, drooling and babbling away. She looked at me as if she wanted anythingbutthis.

“This little bundle found me,” I said. “I figured I should return her to you promptly if you were looking for her.”

“She was with Rick,” Ingrid said. “He must have put her down, and she ran off. I don’t know where he is.”

“Hey!” Linny shouted, annoyed. “Aren’t you Aunt Rid-Rid’s boyfriend?”

I stared—deer in the headlights—for a moment.

“We are just friends,” Ingrid said.

The kiss of death.

“Oh,” Linny pulled a face and skipped off.

“She’s… apologies,” Ingrid said. “Give me the baby.”

“She’s fine. I can find Rick and help you out. You’ve got your hands full.”

“It’s not trouble?—”

“No, it’s not. I don’t care. I can tote her for a bit if it helps,” I insisted.

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