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He didn’t move. ‘I know it’s her birthday, and I want to see her. But I have something I need to say to you first.’
‘I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say, Ragnar.’ She stood up abruptly, letting go of the swing so that it banged into the back of her legs. ‘Do you really think you can just turn up here for her birthday? It’s been nearly three weeks.’
‘I know. And I’m not proud of myself.’
‘Well, that makes two of us.’
He sucked in a breath as though she’d slapped him. ‘You have every right to be angry with me.’
Angry? Angry? She stared at him, the word spinning inside her head like the ball in a roulette wheel.
‘You think I’m angry?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not angry, Ragnar. I’m hurt.’
Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she clenched her teeth. She was not going to cry in front of him.
But as he took a step forward she felt her eyes fill with tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, and the softness in his voice hurt more than anything else, for that was what she missed most. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘I never meant to hurt you. I would never hurt you.’
‘You’re hurting me now.’ Her arms tightened around her ribs. ‘You had no right to come here. I was just starting to feel okay.’
‘I had to come. I had to come and see you.’
‘And now you have—so you can go.’
He didn’t move. He just stood there, with snowflakes spinning slowly around him.
‘Ragnar, please.’ The hurt broke through her voice, and as she pressed her hand against her mouth he was walking towards her and pulling her close. She pushed against him. ‘You have to leave.’
‘Please give me a chance.’
‘To do what? Throw my love back in my face?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s too late, Ragnar. Whatever you think is going to happen here, it isn’t.’
‘I love you.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t get to say that. That’s not allowed.’
‘I thought love didn’t have any rules?’ he said quietly.
His voice was strained, and now that he was closer she could see dark smudges under his eyes, and he looked as if he’d lost weight.
Blanking her mind to the idea that he might be suffering too, she shook her head again. ‘You don’t love me,’ she whispered. ‘And more importantly I don’t love you. Not any more.’
His eyes were steady on her face.
‘I don’t believe you. I think you do love me, Lottie. And I know that I love you.’
Reaching out, he caught her hand, but she pulled it away.
‘You think that’s all it takes? Just three little words. Well, I’ve got three words for you. Separate and contained.’
‘But I don’t want to be separate from you.’ He took her hand again, and this time the fire in his voice stopped her pulling away. ‘I can’t be separate from you. I thought I could—I thought that was what I wanted, what I needed. But I need you.’
‘So why did you let me leave?’
Leaning forward, he pressed his face against her. ‘Because I was stupid and scared.’
‘Scared of what?’
