Page 55 of Royally Drawn (Resplendent Royals #3)

The One

KEIR

I ’d pictured the day I saw Ingrid again happening at a barbecue Cici and Isak would host—probably to celebrate that they were pregnant or maybe a baby’s first birthday. I’d have to share air with Ingrid. She’d spot me, nod, and maybe we’d briefly chat. I pictured her in summer clothes—perhaps because I most wanted to remember her that way—with wavy sun-kissed care in a short dress. She’d be carefree and relaxed. She’d be off-limits—with someone else. And while I could lie and tell myself that she was perhaps with dozens of men while I was away, it didn’t matter.

One, I didn’t care who she was with while I wasn’t around. We weren’t together. I didn’t own her. I’d have her all the same, even with a body count in the hundreds. Two, I’d already gone down that rabbit hole from my mother’s couch yesterday while scrolling gossip blogs. The only times Ingrid came up were odd weekends when she came to London with Leah and Astrid or in the pages of Horse and Hound or The Chronicle of the Horse , where she was seemingly everywhere. If aircraft consumed my entire life while I was gone, she’d thrown herself entirely into riding and becoming an even better athlete.

The results of that last bit were altogether too precise. Her ass could not have looked better—even in mourning gear. Our first meeting post-breakup was anything but a kind glance across a room. Instead, Ingrid ignored me. She didn’t make eye contact and kept to her nieces and nephews exclusively. She looked elegant, composed, and controlled. In contrast, I didn’t have my shit together.

I wanted to hate her—to want her less. Instead, she looked more tempting than I remembered. She was gorgeous. Her laugh—spent on her nieces and nephews—was still lovely. I still loved this woman. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind.

“You do need to say hello,” Betty said, pulling on my arm. “You’re being impolite.”

Betty jumped on a plane three days ago to help Ingrid. She did so without telling anyone—even me—so when I arrived, she was there.

“You shouldn’t tell me about social decorum when you showed up unannounced. How the fuck did you get a room so late?”

“I’m staying with Ingrid,” Betty said.

“We’re all staying here,” I said.

“No. In Ingrid’s room. There was no room. So, I’m staying with her. I’m going back to her. I don’t need your salty attitude.”

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 you want her 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 anything but this.

“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.

“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 to have them. 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 was true.

“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 word deserve in Norsk in preparation for a time she may use 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 a terrible actor. 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 was still The 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?—”

“I need to go deal with Chris before he knocks the dessert table over,” Ingrid said, chasing after her nephew.

“You need to grovel more than that.”

Betty approached.

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Wait her out. She’s stubborn, brother. But she’s also my best friend. She’s still in love with you. It’s what makes everything so fucking confusing for me.”

“She’s been learning Norwegian.”

“We only speak to her in Norsk, she insists. I think secretly, she thought she’d privately eviscerate you in it.”

Only someone as clever as Ingrid perfected her language skills to spite her ex. People didn’t waste energy like that on people they didn’t care about.

“I appreciate that level of dedication.”

“Just don’t fuck it up. Try to be your most charming self. Lars and I will try to help you. I cannot promise we will be successful. But when it works, you owe me forever,” Betty said.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and squeezed her tight. “Betty, I will owe you gladly if I can win her back.”