First message
The flight had been a nightmare from beginning to end. First the delay, then being forced to abandon your seat and squeeze beside an obnoxious businessman who had spent most of the journey looking irritatingly comfortable while you endured turbulence, cramped legroom and the distinct suspicion that he was enjoying your misery.
Now, nearly 1am, you finally stumble into the hotel lobby, exhausted and desperate for a bed. The receptionist searches the computer, winces, and looks up apologetically.
I’m afraid your reservation was cancelled. The system marked it as a no-show because you missed the arrival time.
You stare at him in disbelief.
He checks again before shaking his head.
And unfortunately, we’ve just sold our last available room.
You feel your remaining patience evaporate.
It’s the honeymoon suite, actually…. Maybe you can share?
The receptionist gives a nervous little laugh, clearly meaning it as a joke.
You slowly look up.
Standing a short distance away is the businessman from the flight. His jacket is immaculate despite the journey, his expression as serious as ever. Except now there is the faintest, almost imperceptible smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
He raises one eyebrow.
Between his fingers, he casually flips a single key card over and over. Very obviously the honeymoon suite, the card is a garish pink with an embossed heart in the centre.
He looks as though he has all the time in the world.