Jim stood up and paced the room. ‘I don’t need more space, Greta. I havetoomuch space.’ He cast his hand around. ‘And I don’t need any more time. I’ve always known what I want, and it’s you and Lottie. Our family. Back together again.’
His words made every sensation in Greta’s body sharpen, like electricity was pulsing through her veins. She loved how he sounded so sure. ‘I want that, too,’ she said.
‘Hold on a minute. Are we actually agreeing on something?’ He laughed.
‘Absolutely.’
They grinned a little goofily at each other.
‘This flat at Brewtique . . . has it got two bedrooms?’ Jim asked.
She nodded. ‘Good-sized ones. They just need a bit ofTLC.’
‘Sounds like we both need that, too.’
Greta lifted her eyes, hopeful and a little scared. ‘Are you saying you want to move into the flat above Brewtique with me and Lottie?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. Ifyou’ll have me?’ He reached for her hand. ‘But only when the time is right for you . . .’
She only needed a second to think about it. ‘Yes. Yes, I want that, too. And Lottie will love it.’
They beamed at each other until their mouths ached.
‘There’s a film on TV tonight, if you want to watch it?’ Jim said after a beat.‘Love Actually.That’s the one where the guy uses signs to tell the girl he loves her, right?’
‘That’s the one,’ she said.
A film Mapleville Jim had never heard of.
‘Well, I don’t have any signs,’ Jim said. ‘But I can pour us another glass of wine and fetch us a big bowl of peanuts.’
Greta laughed. A brief image of Mapleville passed through her mind—ofJim building a snowman, rowing her across a lake, and trying to feed her a strawberry. Things they might get to do together in the future. But for now, peanuts and wine seemed like a good start.
When Jim returned from the kitchen, he sat right next to her, draping his arm across the back of the sofa. His fingers rested lightly on her shoulder, and Greta instinctively leaned into his touch.
As the film played on, their bodies gradually drew even closer, each beat of Greta’s heart sounding louder than the last.
By the time the credits rolled, a firework cracked outside, making them both jump.
Greta glanced at her watch. ‘It’s 11:58 p.m.’
Jim stood and held out a hand for hers. ‘Let’s watch the display from the window.’
Their breath made misty shapes on the glass as Longmill’s skyline became alive with flashes of colour and light. Fireworks whizzed, boomed, and sizzled, leaving comet-like trails and glittering sparkles that hung in the air like chandeliers.
Jim turned to face Greta. The candlelight and shadows highlighted each line on his cheeks, like his face was a map that could tell a thousand stories.
‘Greta,’ he said, his voice husky with feeling. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’
She looked up at him, her lashes brushing his cheek as she lifted her face toward his. ‘I’ve missed you, too.’
This time, she felt she was speaking to the real man she’d always loved, not an idealised version.
Jim slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her in. He planted the lightest kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, then her eyelids. Greta clutched his shirt and pulled him even closer.
When their lips finally met, the kiss was urgent, real, unscripted. Just perfect.
They stumbled towards the sofa, their lips still pressed together, sinking into the cushions with their limbs tangling.
