She swallowed against the ache building in her throat.
Not even a birthday card for their daughter.
A mixture of misery and anger flared inside her. She still couldn’t accept that he was acting like this—punishing Sóley for what had happened between the two of them. It seemed so small-minded and cruel, so not like Ragnar.
Or maybe it was like him.
Remembering the cool, almost clinical expression on his face when she’d told him she loved him, she shivered. After hearing him talk so dispassionately about his family, and his ruthless dismissal of Marta, she’d been mad to tell him that. But then she’d naively been assuming that her words would mean something to him, that they would matter—that she mattered.
Her mouth twisted. But they hadn’t—and she didn’t.
And now she was here, back in Suffolk, it was difficult to see why she had ever thought he cared about love or her.
Truthfully, she barely knew him—she’d just made herself feel that she did, letting the intoxicating power of their lovemaking weave a spell not just over her body but her mind too. She’d been so flattered, so desperate to believe in the story she’d told herself in her head of two people separated by circumstance but destined to be together.
She bit down on a sudden choking swell of tears. She was stupid. And selfish. For it was her fault that her daughter—her beautiful, sweet daughter—would never have a father in her life. But clearly Ragnar had meant what he said about keeping his life separate and contained.
‘Lottie—’
Hearing Lucas’s voice, she swiped the tears from her cheeks and took a quick, calming breath. If she could take one positive away from this whole mess it was that it had made her realise how close she and Lucas and Izzy were as a family.
Her brother and her mother were fundamentally different from her in so many ways, but she understood now that it wasn’t just nature that mattered. Ragnar had taught her that nurture was just as important. Since she’d stumbled into the cottage, with tears pouring down her face, both Lucas and Izzy had been utterly amazing.
Those first few days back in England she had felt adrift from everything—like the survivor of a sinking ship, she had only been capable of clinging to the wreckage. Then, when the shock had faded, she had been ill, stricken with cramps, immobilised by the crushing weight of failure and disappointment.
And all the time, despite everything that had happened, she’d missed Ragnar. The nights were bad, but waking was worse, for each morning she had to work through her grief and her loneliness all over again.
It was her family who got her out of bed, and dressed, and she was so lucky to have them.
Forcing her lips into a smile, she turned towards Lucas.
He sighed. ‘Oh, Lottie, we agreed. No crying today.’
‘I’m not crying.’ She met her brother’s sceptical gaze. ‘Honestly. It’s just the cold. I’m fine, really.’
‘So, did you decide where you want it?’
She gazed at him blankly still lost in thoughts of Ragnar. ‘Want what?’
He groaned. ‘The swing, Lottie. Remember? I said I was going to put it by the vegetable patch and you didn’t want it there—’
Without warning, she felt her face crumple. ‘Sorry, I forgot.’
‘No, I’m sorry.’ Reaching out, he pulled her against his battered leather jacket. ‘I’m just feeling cranky, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.’
She pressed her face into her brother’s chest, breathing in his familiar smell. ‘You didn’t—you’ve been great, Lucas.’
Looking up at him, she watched his jaw tighten.
‘I want to kill him, you know. For how he’s treated you and Sóley.’
‘Well don’t.’ She smiled up at him weakly. ‘We need you here—not in prison.’
His face creased into a reluctant smile. ‘Is that your way of telling me you know where you want the swing?’
It took over an hour to make the frame and fix it into position but, despite the numerous setbacks, Lottie found it strangely relaxing. At least trying to make sense of the comically inadequate instructions took her mind off Ragnar, and the swing was lovely. Made of wood, it had two seats—one for a baby and one for an adult.
Lucas took hold of the frame and tried to jiggle it. ‘Look at that.’ He grinned at Lottie. ‘Rock-solid.’