Page 33 of Royally Drawn

“As friends,” I said.

“Uh-huh. I’ll never believe that. If you all were just friends, you would have apologised via text and moved on. Instead, you want to comfort her and talk her down.”

I smacked him with the book on his nightstand. “You’re a wanker.”

“And you’re hung up on her. Which is worse?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I need to give it a proper, good grovel.”

Ingrid was already settled above the deck, sitting on a couch under a blanket. She’d brought out two cans of Coke.

“I figured we needed to drinksomething, but I’m not keen on drinking anymore, and I know you can’t,” Ingrid said.

It was thoughtful. I should have expected no less by now.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” I said, sitting next to her.

She threw the blanket over my legs. If she was sharing a blanket, it wasn’t curtains for me.

“I am sorry for my family. I love them—yes, even my idiot stepbrother—but theyarea lot.”

“I assumed it would be like dealing with Cici and the other Norwegians. I was wrong. The English lot of you is wild.”

I snickered. “English. American. Whatever you want, we’re wild and loud. Leah and Duncan inherited their parents’ boisterous love of life. And both are pig-headed—Duncan, most of all. I wish we could tie him down.”

“He’s immature. And don’t tell me I’m twenty-one and can’t say that about him because he’s older, damn it.”

I snickered and popped the top of the Coke—what my mother always called “pop.” I winced to think that Ingrid wastwenty-one. She was only two years older than Betty but miles more mature.

“You don’t infantilise me,” Ingrid continued. “It wouldn’t work if you did.”

“Why would I? I’d be a creep.”

She snickered. “True. But people do—lots of people do.”

“You’ll have that. You’re the baby. But I understand that while you were sheltered, you also had to grow up fast.”

“It’s a complicated mix.” She moved closer to me. “I’m not simple, Keir. I will warn you. I have seen shit.”

“I was about eight when my father died,” I said. “It was excruciating. I remember the day of his diagnosis. I remember Mamma crying all the time. She’d save it for sobbing behind the bathroom door. I have trauma, too, Ingrid. We all do, but I was the oldest and shouldered so much. It’s why I’m different. And much like Alexandra and Astrid, we tried so hard to shelter Win and Ollie. They were so young when he passed and don’t remember him. God, I’m sorry to dump on you.”

She wassoeasy to talk to. I shouldn’t have said so much, but chatting with someone who understood was comforting.

“I don’t remember either of my parents. Alexandra and Astrid do. It’s so difficult. I basically killed my mother, so there’s that.”

I stared in disbelief.

“Sorry. Dark humour isn’t funny, but it definitely haunts me. She died just after my birth—complications. Alexandra’s been through this three times, and it’s always nerve-racking. She’s about to do it again.”

“Alexandra is pregnant again?” I asked.

Ingrid giggled and raised a finger to her lips.

“Yeah. It’s early days for her, but she’s pregnant with baby number four. She claims this is the last one. We all worry. She is always so sick in early pregnancy. I don’t know how she manages it. Either way, it frightens me. I have no idea why I’m talking to you about babies right now. Jesus Christ!”

“It’s okay. Look, I enjoy our chats. You’re wickedly funny, Ingrid. And you get it. I… I won’t jump into anything, but I enjoy you.”

She smiled, still looking down.

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