She (34 page)

Instinctively Logan presses the button to take us to the floor above.

“I’ve already pushed the button!” Jerry snaps.

“Not well enough, obviously,” Logan says, without looking at him.

I can’t help but smirk at Logan’s words.
OK, so my resolve is starting to break.

Jerry glares at me. It’s a look that I’ve never seen from him before. Like he can’t quite believe what I’m doing; like my gall and audacity to be here with Logan Leary, his ex-boss, is as insulting to him as it is shocking. I do not break under his stare. I will not feel bad or guilty for moving on with my life in such a spectacular way.

Logan takes a calculated step forward blocking Jerry’s view of me and saving me from his judgemental gaze. Instead I take in Logan’s tall, broad, and immaculate structure and I marvel at just
how
spectacular life now is. I suddenly feel very fortunate and full of mirth. As the doors close, locking the four of us in together, I snigger at the tension of it all. This elevator could not be moving any slower, it’s comical!

Countering Logan’s earlier movement, Jerry moves to the front of the elevator and continues to glare at me. He’s starting to piss me off…

“It’s rude to stare,” Logan says, looking at him with disdain.

“Fuck off,” Jerry snarls.

I roll my eyes. “Something on your mind, Jerry?” I ask him.

Mimi immediately tuts and jumps to his defence, saying, “Don’t answer her, babe. She’s not worth it.”

My blood boils.
Fucking
.
Bitch
! Logan’s jaw tenses and his eyes narrow, and I know he’s thinking the same as I am. I take a deep, calming breath. The temptation to tell her that Jerry’s been trying to get in contact with me mounts exponentially.

But Jerry ignores his girlfriend, or whatever she is to him, and says to me, “You’re a fucking sellout!”

I frown. A
sellout
? What does that even mean in this context?

Logan wonders the same thing, asking, “How do you figure that?”

“I’m not talking to
you
,” he sneers at Logan, looking supremely unattractive.

Anger and jealously really aren’t good looks
, I note.

“
You
,” Jerry points threateningly at Logan, “are a bully and an asshole, Leary!”

I can’t hold my composure any longer. He’s being
too
ridiculous! I start laughing.
Oh
,
Jerry
,
you comedian
,
you
!

The elevator doors open and Jerry marches out, followed like a faithful dog by Mimi. Logan stares after them, his expression torn between bemusement and amusement.

“I never knew he could be that funny,” I tell Logan, as we walk out too.

Just before we also enter the function room, which is noisy and bustling with people, Logan pulls me to the side of the doorway, securing us a quiet moment alone before we start mingling with others. Quite suddenly I find myself pressed up against the wall, Logan’s firm and perfectly-formed body holding me in place. I smile at him, pleased by this unexpected detour.

“His words don’t represent either of us very accurately,” Logan whispers, his lips deliciously close to mine.

Unable to resist, I reach up to kiss him quickly. “No, they don’t,” I agree. “Hence my reason for laughing at him,” I grin.

Logan smiles back at me. “I love your laughter,” he tells me. “It’s my second favourite sound that you make.”

“Whatever might the first be?” I ask, playing clueless.

“Hmm, I’ll convince you to make it later,” he says, his words full of amorous promise.

“I look forward to it,” I smile. I really,
really
do!

“Can I ask you something?” he asks, and I nod. “Was that girl the one he cheated with?” he continues.

“Yup, that’s Mimi,” I sigh. “We never got along,” I tell him. “She was always so bitchy and I couldn’t work out what her problem was. Maybe she just wanted Jerry?” I shrug.

“Her problem,” Logan says knowledgeably, “is that you are a million times more gorgeous than she is, and she knows it. Jerry knows it, too,” he says, surprising me. “I suspect that she is a woman full of jealously, and he is a man full of regret,” he adds thoughtfully.

“Poor them,” I say sarcastically. “How ever might we help them?”

“Well, the least we can do is get them both a movie voucher, or something?” Logan grins, playing along, and I laugh at his suggestion. “As a way of saying ‘thank you’ for leading us to one another.”

“That’s very considerate,” I say, kissing him. As soon as my lips touch his, I’m transported somewhere else. Jerry does not exist. We’re in our bubble, just Logan and I, and I’m suddenly overcome by my excitement at being here with him. Our first event as a couple!

We break apart and the way that Logan looks at me makes my heart rate soar. It’s a look that’s full of love, it’s a look that I adore receiving.

“Thank you for making this so easy for me,” I say earnestly. “
Everything
is so easy with you, Logan,” I compliment him.

He smiles and presses his lips against mine for a long, beautiful moment, our eyes pouring into each other’s though they’re unfocussed.

“Ditto, baby,” he says. “Shall we go in?”

I nod, but before either one of us can move, we’re joined in the small hallway by Mimi, who storms out of the function room, tears streaming down her face, and angrily jabs at the elevator button. The doors open immediately, and as she steps inside and turns, she sees us for the first time.

“
Urgh
! Get a room!” she shouts, as the doors close at an awkwardly slow pace.

Logan kisses my cheek. “We’ll get a room later,” he whispers into my ear.

I grin at him, and nod again.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand.

*

The event is a great success. Logan is received warmly and seems to be the centre of attention for many in attendance due to the stellar work he did on this job. There are pictures up on one of the walls of the different stages of the project, which Logan walks me through, explaining each stage. I love hearing him talk so passionately, and I love that he’s excited to share his passion with me. I’m in awe of the scale of the project (which consists of two huge buildings spread across a five-acre plot of land) and I marvel that Logan,
my
Logan, was in charge of the whole thing! And this is just
one
project; he must’ve done this tens of times in his career so far, I think. I am extremely impressed!

As I take in the many pictures I can vaguely remember Jerry telling me about the project last year when they were in the midst of construction. Fortunately when we begin properly mingling with the other guests, Logan and I don’t come face to face with Jerry again; I don’t know where he is and I don’t actively look for him. I stay in-the-moment by Logan’s side, our arms around one another’s waists, as we immerse ourselves into the many and varied conversations.

I’m surprised (though I don’t know why) to see many familiar faces; people that I’ve crossed paths with through past work I’ve done, or past AABD parties. I also encounter a few of my current clients, all of whom are chipper, and have only good things to say about the work I’m doing for them.

I find myself speaking alone with one of them. His name is Henri Armand, and he’s a very good friend (and repeated client) of Amelie’s. “Is Mrs. Clemence coming tonight?” he asks me.

“No, she’s not,” I tell him. At least, I don’t
think
she’s coming. I never actually asked her.

“I see. So, did you oversee the interior for this project personally?” he enquires, no doubt wondering why I’m here.

“No, I didn’t work on this project. I’m here with my boyfriend; he was head of construction,” I explain.

“I thought Logan Leary was head of construction,” he looks confused.

“Yes, he was,” I say, with a hint of smugness in my voice.
Silly
,
Gemima
, I think. But the truth is, I
am
smug and proud to be his girlfriend, and I really don’t care who knows it!

“Oh…I see,” Henri says again, cottoning on. “Hmm,” he considers the revelation for a moment, before sharing, “I see that you two would make a great couple. Very creative.”

I grin. “Thanks,” I mutter.

After that it seems to spread quietly through the room that I’m here as Logan’s girlfriend; as if our PDA’s weren’t enough of a giveaway already. I am happy to note that taking our relationship public doesn’t change the way we interact with one another, other than perhaps us keeping our hands
above
the waist! We’re our usual mix of cheeky, flirty and serious. I also note that even though I don’t require anyone else’s approval, I
like
hearing that people think Logan and I are a good match, which is the census around the room. I like knowing that they think I’m a good partner for Paris’s golden boy of construction. Maybe that’s vain of me, I wonder, but it feels good to know that others outside of our bubble can see what we feel inside of it: that we’re right together. We’re
very
right.

After two hours of mingling, Logan and I finally find ourselves alone by the bar. I take this rare opportunity to sit down and rest my aching feet. Walking two blocks in my sky-high heels wasn’t a problem, but after standing for so long, I’m in pain.

“You’re going to have to carry me back to the hotel,” I tell him, pointing at my heels. But then I remember… “Shit, no, you’re not allowed, are you?” He looks so good that I forget his surgery was only three days ago!

“Not according to you,” Logan chuckles, moving closer to me. He puts his hand on my thigh as he leans down to kiss me quickly.

“Or your doctors,” I remind him, not letting him distract me with that kiss.

He smiles at me, knowing that his ploy didn’t work. He kisses me again and this time I’m lost. I could be anywhere, I could be anyone; all I know is Logan.

A cough interrupts us and we break apart. I’m brought back to myself and the here and now. It’s the bartender. “What can I get you?” he asks us in French.

“Red or white?” Logan asks me.

I look down at my dress in answer. Logan smiles at me and then orders two glasses of red wine, which are poured in front of us.

Logan hands my glass to me, then lifts his own, toasting, “Here’s to our happy endings.”

I giggle, remembering our first lunch date when he first uttered those words. I repeat my response, “And many more to come.”

“How right you were,” Logan smirks, before we both take a sip. I pull a face and Logan asks about the wine, “You don’t like it?”

Holding his tie and I coax him towards me, until our lips meet. Then I put my hand on his face so that anyone out in the room who might potentially glance over here doesn’t see what I’m doing, before I slip my tongue into his mouth, brushing it against his for a few, long, delicious moments.

“Just as I suspected,” I say afterwards, “it tastes better on your tongue.”

“You are so fucking sexy,” Logan murmurs immediately, his eyes gleaming, his voice soft and his lips against mine.
Mmm
, I want another taste of wine…

There’s another invasive cough, and instinctively I look for the barman, but he’s not there. Logan is staring over my shoulder at the real culprit, and I turn to follow his line of sight, already knowing who I’m going to see there.

“Ya’ll should get a room,” Jerry says to us.

“That’s what your girlfriend said,” Logan tells him.

“She’s
not
my girlfriend,” Jerry clarifies.

“Yes,
we
know that…considering your recent email and phone call trying to get Gemima back,” Logan says.

“You call her Gemima? That’s so fucking lame, Leary,” Jerry laughs to himself, ignoring the rest of Logan’s comment.

Lame
? “Uh, that’s my name!” I point out.
You dickwad
!

“Whatever,” Jerry flips us the bird, and we’re saved further conversations with him when the bartender arrives to take his order: Cola. As usual. “Bring it over to me, will you?” Jerry instructs the bartender, evidently not keen on staying in our company. He wanders off, back into the midst of people in the room.

“Huh…” Logan thinks about something.

“What?” I ask.

“I thought he’d be drinking tonight, for sure,” he muses. “You know, liquid courage.”

I shake my head. “He doesn’t drink. At least, he didn’t up until a few months ago. His father was an alcoholic, so he always stayed away from the stuff.”

“Oh…So, when he’s being obnoxious…?”

“That’s just Jerry,” I nod.

Logan shakes his head and downs the rest of his wine in one. After another glass apiece, we reintegrate into the company of the room, but Logan isn’t as carefree as before. Something has irritated him, and I don’t have to look far to find the cause.

Jerry stands in the middle of a circle of people, capturing their attention through his animated expressions and over-the-top anecdotes. This is how he always used to behave in social situations: loud, opinionated, and a collector of people; the more he has around him, the better. I’d have no problem with it if it were done with integrity and dignity, but with Jerry it’s not and it rarely was. He’s the centre of attention because he makes himself so, either by making a scene or talking over people, not because he’s the most interesting person in the room. Far from it! Though I am, of course, biased on the subject
and
overindulged in his behaviour.