I pass other people walking up and down the wall, including Michel and his wife, Elaine. I abruptly realise that as second-in-command of Leary Constructions this wall-of-fame is equally a tribute to him as it is to Logan. We stop for a brief conversation, during which he talks me through one of the most difficult projects of their joint careers, before they keep walking north, doing the timeline backwards, and I kept walking south.

I beam at the photographs of the very last project on display. It’s my hotel — Hotel Forty-Nine — standing imperially tall in the very heart of Tokyo. I scan every photo very closely, knowing that it was constructed long before it was ever named for me, yet I find myself wanting to be familiar with it. It’s high-end, it’s luxurious, it’s an oriental treasure trove.

“You beat me to it,” I hear Logan saying behind me.

I turn, smile at him, and wrap my arms around his middle, hugging him tightly.

“I was supposed to show you this,” he says, hugging me back.

“I love it, Logan,” I say, meaning it entirely. “She is utterly magnificent and I’m even more honoured now to know she was named for me,” I tell him. “This whole timeline is mind-blowing.” I reach up to cup his face in my hands, and gazing into his pale-green eyes, I say, “I know I wasn’t there for, like, any of these builds, and so it might not mean anything, but I’m so proud of you, Logan. So, so proud,” I gush.

My words make him light-up. “That means everything, baby,” he says earnestly, brushing his lips against mine. Then humour overcomes him, as he says, “I can’t believe I told you that I didn’t want you to come tonight.” He laughs at his own mistake. “There’s no one else who matters more than you.”

I smile once more, and repeat the words that he said to me one week ago. “Temporary madness, baby, it happens to the best of us.”

He chuckles, looking so breathtakingly beautiful that I can’t hold myself back. I slide my hands over his shoulders and reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him headily.

When we break apart a few delicious moments later, we remain face to face, Logan’s arms wrapped tightly around my back, and I giggle against his lips, “I found some adorable pictures of you on this timeline. I think I’ll make one of them my new screensaver,” I tease.

“Just wait until we get to Charleston,” he chuckles. “My mom has the whole house decorated with photos of me.”

“I can’t wait to see them, Logan, I can’t wait to see where you’re from. I saw Mercy earlier and she told me that your mom said we’re going to Charleston this summer,” I grin.

Logan shakes his head. “I have plans to get married this summer.”

His words derail my thoughts entirely. He looks so overjoyed by them.

“Mercy, uh, also said…” I begin, but I falter. What else did she say, I try to recall.

“Yes?” Logan smiles against my lips. He knows his effect on me, he knows I’m temporarily speechless, and so he uses this moment of silence to kiss me once more, his hands running up and down my back in a sweet caress.

This time when we break apart I’m even more breathless, though fortunately my ability for speech has returned to me. “She said she’d look after Samuel whenever we do go to Charleston. In fact, she was insistent on it.”

“I see,” Logan smiles. “I haven’t found her yet,” he says, turning to observe the room.

I turn to look into the room as well, and find a sight quite different to what I expected. While I was engrossed with the timeline and then with Logan, almost everybody else has taken their seat around the pristine-looking tables, and my stomach lurches uncomfortably when I see that many pairs of eyes are angled towards us.

“People are watching us,” I murmur quietly, as though everyone in the room might suddenly be able to hear me. Don’t be silly, Gem.

“That’s because you look stunning, Gemima,” Logan smiles at me, enjoying the flush that comes over my cheeks. “Come,” he takes my hand and leads the way to a table at the very front of the room, around which his family, my mother, and a few key personnel of Leary Constructions are seated.

Trying my best to ignore the eyeballs that follow us as we walk, I instead focus my attention on the back corner of the room where waiters are lingering in a doorway, which I presume leads to the kitchen.

“Dinner and then speeches?” I ask Logan.

“The other way around,” he says, holding out my chair for me to sink into.

We immerse ourselves in the varying conversations around the table, until a tapping sound issues through the loud speakers throughout the room a few minutes later, and a hush descends over everyone.

Two men are standing on the stage in front of a lectern which has a microphone protruding out the top of it. They introduce themselves as the co-chairman of the PBA. Speaking in French, they begin by taking it in turns to welcome everyone to the event before both sharing a brief synopsis of how they came to know Logan and his work, and how privileged the PBA is to have Leary Constructions be a part of it. I learn that they will be presenting Logan with an Outstanding Contribution to Building and Construction award a little later on — it’s a fancy-looking glass sculpture which they balance on the lectern — but first they introduce Michel, who rises from his seat at our table, inviting him to say a few words.

Amid a smattering of applause, Michel takes to the stage and delivers more than a few words; he’s up there for a solid ten minutes, delivering an impressively professional sounding speech. In it, he details the birth of the company, its growing pains and its breakthrough successes, but most of all, he talks of watching a young, idealistic maverick turn into a leader and a mentor and the man I’m all set on marrying. His speech holds me utterly captivated. He was there, Logan’s righthand man from day one of Leary Constructions, and I love hearing his perspective.

Eventually, Michel concludes his speech and receives another, louder round of applause, but he doesn’t leave his station. Instead he announces, “À l’insu de Logan, un membre de son cercle privé a été invité à dire quelques mots.” Unbeknownst to Logan, a member of his inner-circle has been asked to say a few words.

Immediately, both Logan and I scan the table, looking for a guilty face, and for one deathly horrifying moment I think that Michel’s going to call on me!

He doesn’t.

Instead, he says with a mischievous smile, “Mesdames et messieurs, M. Buddy Jackson.” Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Buddy Jackson.

The room erupts into cheers, and it’s suddenly abundantly evident that within this industry Buddy is the class clown.

“Oh, shit,” Logan groans, knowing that his level of embarrassment is about to increase tenfold.

“Surprise,” Buddy smiles from his chair on the other side of Logan. Clapping his shoulder as he gets to his feet, he says, “Stand up, Loges, you’re coming with me.”

Reluctantly Logan stands too, leaving me with a parting kiss and a comical look of dread. As they begin walking to the stage together, I hear Buddy ask him, “You’re not opposed to the term bromance, are you?”

Once on stage, they both look imperially tall, and I vaguely contemplate looking around the room to find Amélie. I’m sure her facial expression right now would be hilarious, but I keep my gaze firmly set on Logan. He moves with such poise and elegance. Charisma and likability oozes from him as he jokes quietly with Buddy and then shakes hands with Michel, thanking him for his kind words. He’s just so fucking cool, I think. I have to stop myself from shouting out, I’m with him!

Keeping my own poise in place, I clap politely as Buddy steps up to the lectern, while Logan lingers behind him.