Not in my bed, where she should be.
Not answering her fucking phone.
"She's fine," I say, which isn't a lie. "That's all that matters."
Hakon's eyes narrow. "You look like shit, man."
"Didn't sleep much."
"Why not?"
Because I was too busy memorizing the feeling of Ingrid in my arms.
Too busy trying to convince her she matters.
Too busy falling even more in love with a woman who doesn't believe she's worth keeping.
"Long night," I say instead.
Ulf exchanges a look with Hakon.
Great.
They know something's off.
"She okay though?" Ulf presses. "Ingrid. She wasn't too drunk or?—"
"She's fine. I got her somewhere safe, she sobered up, end of story."
"Safe where?" Hakon asks.
"Not your business."
"Defensive," Hakon observes. "Interesting."
"Drop it."
"Make me."
Before I can respond—or punch him—my phone buzzes
A message from Runes, to the officers and full patches.
Kirkja in 15. Mandatory.
Perfect timing.
"Gotta go," I tell them, draining half my coffee in one scalding gulp. "Kirkja."
But I'm grateful for it.
Grateful for anything that keeps me from thinking about Ingrid.
Keeps me from going to her apartment and demanding to know why she left.
Keeps me from doing something stupid like admitting I'm in love with the VP's daughter and I don't know how to stop.
The chapel is already filling up when we arrive.
