She pushed past Tobias, nudging him out of the way. ‘Now, please excuse me. I want to find my family . . .’
Greta didn’t wait for his reply. Instead, she strode out of the room and back into the corridor. Her heels clicked as she hurried down the marble staircase and out of a side door.
Outside, the square was still and quiet. Greta trailed her hand through the water in the fountain, needing to feel something real. The reflection of the moon broke apart and rippled. She stood in quiet contemplation, with memories of her Maple Gold wedding to Jim filtering back.
It had been staged for a commercial, the set built to resemble a church. Tall polystyrene columns lined the aisle, painted to resemble white marble. The vicar had worn running shoes under his cassock, hidden from the camera.
The script featured Jim arriving late to the ceremony because he’d got too wrapped up in the taste and aroma of a prewedding cuppa.
After they’d exchanged their vows, Greta and Jim had twirled around the fountain, flashing smiles and showing off make-believe wedding rings for the cameras.
Stills from the ceremony had been splashed across glossy magazines, accompanied by headlines such as Love Brewing: Mapleville’s Golden Couple Tie the Knot. Showbiz writers had poured over the tiniest details, from Greta’s wedding shoes to Jim’s cuff-links shaped like coffee beans.
A few months later, Jim and Greta’s own real wedding had been something entirely different—a quiet, intimate affair in a small Scottish hotel without any guests. Greta had been newly pregnant with Lottie, the officiant had worn a kilt, and the air had smelled of rain and damp heather. There’d been no cameras, no script and no fans. Yet somehow it had felt like theirsecondwedding, as though their first had been claimed by Maple Gold and the public.
Greta pulled her hand from the fountain, shaking off the droplets. The square was peaceful now, and the evening’s accolades and applause felt distant.
It struck her then that the simple, unpolished moments in life were just as precious, if not more so, than the grand, showy ones.
The longing to be with her family grew stronger. She no longer craved admiration from strangers but wanted a deeper connection with those who loved her for who she was.
Greta glanced around, searching for the limousine. She was relieved to spot it was still parked nearby, and she hurried over, sliding into the back seat.
‘To your hotel, Ms Perks?’ the chauffeur said.
Greta nodded.
He took a different route this time, along a road she hadn’t noticed before. Greta sank in her seat, picturing Jim and Lottie already inside their hotel room, unwinding in their complimentary robes, and perhaps playing a game ofUno.
When they arrived, the driver stepped out and escorted Greta inside before bidding her goodnight.
The foyer was opulent, all cream marble, towering pillars and a sweeping staircase. Strangely, there didn’t seem to be any other guests around. There was no chatter in the foyer or discreet music playing, just an eerie silence as if the hotel had been deserted after a fire alarm.
The receptionist handed her a room card with a robotic smile. ‘The presidential suite, madam,’ he said. ‘My colleague will escort you—’
Greta shook her head. ‘It’s fine. I can find it myself. I believe my husband and daughter are already waiting for me . . .’
She gathered her skirt and made her way up the stairs, her pace slowing when she reached her room. After swiping the room card, she opened the door and peeped inside in case Jim had already fallen asleep.
After the glitz and spectacle of the evening, feeling like a mannequin on display in a store window, Greta just wanted to feel the warmth ofJim’s skin next to hers and to fall asleep in his arms.
She tiptoed into the room.
The décor was grand, all rich caramel and gold tones. Greta’s eyes were drawn to the huge circular bed, where the covers were neat and unused, embroidered with coffee bean motifs.
‘Jim?’ she whispered. ‘Are you here?’
Greta smiled when she saw rose petals artfully arranged in the shape of a heart on the bed.
A note rested on the pillow, and she picked it up, recognising the familiar handwriting.
Lottie wanted to go home, and I ve accompanied her. (Jet some well-earned rest and we H see you tomorrow. Were both very proud of you.
Love Jim x
Greta’s arms fell heavy by her sides, the note dropping to the floor. She’d been desperate to spend some time with her husband and daughter, only to find herself alone. Again.
Too exhausted to make another trip back across town, she kicked off her shoes. When she caught sight of her reflection in a mirror, Greta padded across the plush carpet to take a closer look.
