The element of surprise is the only advantage I have.
At 1:55, I walk back into the spa.
Different receptionist now—older, friendly.
"Gunnar? For your 2 PM with Ingrid?"
"That's me."
"Perfect timing! She's just finishing with her last client. I'll let her know you're here. You can have a seat."
I sit in one of the waiting room chairs, surrounded by women's magazines and the scent of lavender.
Feel completely out of place in my jeans and cut and boots.
Five minutes pass.
Ten.
Then I hear her voice from the hallway.
"—so glad you're feeling better, Mrs. Valazzar. Same time next week?"
"Absolutely, dear. You're a miracle worker."
An elderly woman emerges, moving easier than when she probably arrived.
She smiles at me as she passes.
Then Ingrid appears in the doorway.
She's in professional mode—black pants, fitted spa shirt with the Calming Spaces logo, hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.
Composed.
Put together.
Nothing like the broken woman who came apart in my arms last night.
Her eyes land on me, and she stops.
Just for a second.
Long enough for me to see the panic flash across her face.
Then the mask slams down, and she's smiling that professional smile.
"Gunnar. Right this way."
Her voice is steady.
Neutral.
Like I'm just another client.
Like I didn't watch her come undone eight hours ago.
I follow her down a hallway lined with soft lighting and gentle music.
