Vodka Espresso

6. agata

June, 2017

In his sleep, Ingrid had snuggled up to him and Edgar buried his nose in her hair. It smelled of flowers. It felt so soft, but then again, every other inch of her did. He tightened his hold on her and woke up with a start.

She wasn't there.

Edgar shot up in his bed. His frantic eyes scanned the room for her and nearly missed her sitting at his dressing table. She wore his T-shirt and toyed with his wedding ring. He let out a sigh of relief. Ingrid smiled.

"You know...I tossed mine into his grave." She tried the ring on. It hung loose on her finger, just like the shirt on her slender frame.

He pulled his shorts on and sauntered up to her, snatching the ring from her hand. He dropped it into a drawer and strolled into the bathroom.

Ingrid didn't go after him. She went upstairs to her room, showered and changed into loungewear of her own. She'd washed her hair, too, so she could tame it back into obedience from scratch.

A knock soon sounded at her door.

"Can I come in?" Edgar's voice followed.

She went to open up and he let himself in.

"Will you give me that marvellous speech again?" she asked, taking her jumpsuit and her purse from his arms. She left the purse on a chair and threw the suit in the bathtub.

Edgar stood with his hands on his hips, looking anywhere in that room but at her.

"Clearly...," he began, reluctant, "I was wrong. Or at least...Not entirely wrong, because I never meant for...this," he motioned back and forth between them, "to happen again. But it was wrong of me to let it happen. Please forgive me."

Ingrid laughed outright. "What the hell should I forgive you for?"

His rusty stubble concealed his blush. "Well...this is a business relationship now, not just a casual hook-up at the bar. I should've...I ought to rein it in, but there's just something – God only knows, there's something about you I just can't resist."

"I think this has less to do with God and more to do with...you know." She pointed her finger in the general direction of his crotch. "Your little back-up brain."

"Now that's just derisory," he argued.

"Derisory? No, that's not the word I'd use. It's, um...one of your most significant assets."

"Derisive..." His voice faltered. "Derisory as in derisive..."

"Ah." She winked and clicked her tongue. "A tiny bit."

"This is going nowhere," he grumbled and stomped off.

Ingrid rolled her eyes, blocking his path.

He could hardly see where he was going and bumped hard into her. By the pure instinct of a dad always prepared to keep his clumsy children from injuring themselves, he caught hold of her and prevented a nasty fall.

This resulted in them standing very close to each other and his skin crawling with the horror that he might have hurt her. He half-expected her to start crying. She stumbled on her feet for a second and he didn't let go before he made sure she was stable on her own.

"Shit." He brought up his fingers to her hand rubbing her jaw. He'd felt the impact in his shoulder. "I'm so sorry..."

"I got in your way, so I guess I earned it."

"How can you say that? Let me see." He tried to pry her hand off, but she evaded his touch.

"Don't worry, you didn't break anything."