I start wondering what Amélie would do in this sort of situation. Should I ask her? Would that show an openness and willingness to learn from the more experienced, or would it make me appear to be giving up easily? I decide on the former. Between last weeks meeting with Mrs. Clark and this weeks meeting I’ve complied at least twelve different boards, well above my average. Amélie isn’t going to think less of me for being unable to appease one difficult client. I hope.
I gather everything that I’ve done for this project so far, and I’m all set to go to her office when she walks past me towards the reception doors.
“Uh, Mrs. Clémence? May I speak to you about something?” I call after her.
“After lunch,” she says to me over her shoulder, continuing on her way, disappearing through the double doors. Damn.
She must be on her way to an early lunch, I think, but I’m wrong. A few moments later she reappears with Madeleine Lily in tow. My inner fangirl starts flapping her arms. Be cool, Gem!
Amélie’s eyes dart to meet mine and she gives an infinitesimal shake of her head — her way of telling me not to make a fuss. No loud declarations of: Lily, I’m so thrilled that you’re coming to Pierson House and I can’t wait to work with you! Amélie doesn’t want anyone to know, I remind myself, which means that everyone else in the room has to be believe that Lily is a client and not a potential new colleague. Discretion, Gemima. It’s not my strongest ability, not by far, but I manage to keep my excitement at bay as they pass me on their way to Amélie’s office.
Busying myself, I then make a start on the project that I’ll be working on this afternoon, reading through the design brief and jotting down a few initial thoughts and ideas as I do so. Knowing that Logan will be here soon, I don’t progress onto the next phase. Instead I tidy up my desk, positioning everything in its perfect place with its perfect angles to everything else, because I’m normal like that.
I stare at my desk calendar — it’s Wednesday. I knew that, sure, but what I failed to realise is that today is exactly four weeks since Logan’s and my first lunch date! I count it out at least three times to make sure I’m right, and I am. Somewhat bemused by the realisation, I grab my handbag and seem to naturally migrate to the back of the building where the large courtyard is.
I push the doors open and stand in the doorframe, peering out. Four weeks ago I brought Logan out here, where Amélie shouted at me for being late, I apologised, Logan stepped in to take the heat off of me, and Amélie relaxed entirely. That had been my intention, to use his business prowess to get me out of trouble, but I didn’t realise at the time of suggesting it, that his intention was to watch me have my portrait taken. And while I did, we gazed at one another, both of us getting acquainted with our bubble, which now seems so foundational to our relationship. The feeling is so ingrained in me that it’s easy to forget life before it.
Was it really only four weeks, I muse once more. It’s just inconceivable! It feels more like a year than a month. So much has changed and grown and blossomed, publicly as well as privately. I’m sure my public persona already has, and will continue to change because I’m with Logan. But that outwards stuff is not what enchants me as I stand here, thinking over the last twenty-eight halcyon days of my life. What I really care about, what really matters to me, is not how I’m perceived nor what others say, but how I’ve changed inside.
Although leaving Jerry, moving into a new house, and getting a new job were several steps in the right direction, I was still in something of a daze in life when I met Logan. He’ll probably say that it was me who inspired him, and I say it’s him who inspired me, and who knows who’s right? All I know is that meeting him, and feeling the new emotions and sensations that he evoked in me made me want to engage more with my own life. His evident passion and zest for living made me want to live like that too, and I’d be lying if I said anything other than that it was him who brought me to life, who made me blossom, who showed me what real love is.
Gratitude courses through my veins as I stand here, smiling to myself. Disbelief parades around my mind asking me questions that I have no answer to. How did this happen so fast? Why did this happen to me at all? I ignore them. When something in life is this wonderful, I don’t think I should destroy it by trying to figure out the how’s and why’s. When something in life is this wonderful, I’m convinced that the right course of action is to simply bask in the feelings of it, and right now I feel like the luckiest person alive.
“Are you reminiscing?” a familiar voice asks behind me, causing my smile to grow.
I turn and look at Logan, standing a few metres from me, here to pick me up. I nod and hold out a hand to him, and in a few short strides he’s with me, and peers out into the courtyard too.
“It’s four weeks today since our lunch date,” I tell him, though I suspect that he’s already remembered.
Confirming this, he grins, and says, “That was the first time I’ve ever conceded to sweet-talking a business associate. I usually leave that to Buddy.” I watch his breathtaking face as he stares outside, his dimples prominent. Then looking at me, he says meaningfully, “Four weeks and one hell of a ride.”
“Yes,” I laugh.
“Shall we go and celebrate it?” he asks me. “I’m only allowed you for two hours,” he adds with a smile, “and I want to make the most of it.”
14. She
Location confusion plagues me. I’ve no idea where Logan has brought me. We’re standing in a pristine ballroom, where on the other side of the room one solitary table is positioned near the doors that must lead out to the rest of the hotel. I’m certain we’re in a hotel, given the huge commercial kitchen we were lead through to get in here. Logan took only unknown backstreets and then parked at the back of the building, all part of his plan to keep the surprise as long as possible. I thought perhaps it might be Six Zero Three, Logan’s hotel which he brought me to a couple of weeks ago, however Six Zero Three is a boutique hotel, and granted, I didn’t have enough time to explore everything the way I wanted to — I was too consumed with getting Logan naked, if I recall correctly — but I’m certain that it is too small to house such a sizeable space as this.
I stare nonplussed at Logan. “This isn’t Six Zero Three, is it?” I say.
“No, but good guess,” he smiles, taking my hand and leading me across the room to our luncheon table. It looks to be set for around a dozen people, considerably more than just Logan’s parents and us, and appears entirely bizarre sitting alone in such a large room.
“Um, it’s also not the same ballroom that we were in on Saturday night,” I note, taking in the very different decor.
“Nope.”
“It’s definitely a hotel, though. One that you own? Or Buddy, maybe?” I wonder.
“Neither of us,” Logan reveals.
Think, Gemima, think. Logan told me yesterday that if I knew the location it could make things amorous between us, so clearly we’re standing somewhere of importance, but I just can’t work out where.
Logan watches my brain working overtime, trying to solve the riddle, with a broad smile on his face. He leads me straight past the table to the ballroom doors, coming to a stop just short of them. Then he unexpectedly leans down to kiss my lips, his pale-green eyes gleaming.
“Stay here,” he whispers against my lips.
My eyes dart wide in surprise, making him laugh. Where the hell is he going? Not far it seems.