Read She: Part 2 Online

Authors: Annabel Fanning

Tags: #She

She: Part 2 (8 page)

BOOK: She: Part 2
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He pushes the accelerator and we speed across the water.
My hair is going to hate this
, I think, already dreading the tangles. But aside from that drawback, the experience is incredible. It feels liberating and empowering somehow, to be out on the ocean by ourselves. The eye-catching coastline zooms past us on our right, and all around us, the water is clear and glorious, looking good enough to dive into, though I wisely avoid the temptation.

“When did you learn to do this?” I ask, opening one of my blankets and wrapping it around his middle in an attempt to share the warmth.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Logan wraps his other arm around me, saying, “Last year when I initiated the project in Marseille. I was there for two weeks at one point, and I needed something to do on the weekends. I’ve always loved the ocean, so I figured it was a good opportunity to learn. But I don’t have my license yet,” he announces, startling me.
Are we acting outside of the law right now
, I wonder wildly. He looks down at me and chuckles at the look of shock on my face for a second time. “I don’t need one,” he then lets me know.

… “Does that mean
can drive it too?” I check, now grinning at him.

He smiles back and slowly shakes his head. He continues to gaze at me for longer than I judge to be safe.

“Eyes on the ocean, Logan,” I tell him hurriedly.

“You distracted me,” he mutters to himself, a smile still in place on his face.

“When you initiate projects outside of Paris do you often have to leave for several weeks?” I wonder.

“I always have done,” he tells me, “but things change.” His arm tightens its hold around me, and I know he’s talking about me. “The nice thing about being a boss is that I can delegate. It’ll give me the chance to stay in Paris, and someone else the chance to step up into a new role.”

“Is that what you want?” I ask. “I mean, the beginning of any project is always exciting, and if you want to be there, then, you know, you and I will make it work,” I promise him.

He looks at me lovingly. “I don’t want to spend two weeks away from you,” he says with absolute certainty.

“I don’t want to spend two weeks away from you either,” I tell him. “But I also don’t want to fuck up your company,” I add.

He laughs heartily. “You won’t. You and I come first, and then Leary Constructions. That’s non-negotiable,” he grins.

“Fine then, I guess I’ll just have to put up with you,” I sigh sarcastically. In reality, his words thrill me.

Fifteen minutes later we arrive at a much shorter, darker dock, which leads to a stairway with at least two hundred steps up a vertical cliff-face.

There had better be something good up here, I think, as my legs start to scream after step one hundred. There
something good, something amazing! Huffing and puffing at the top of the stairs, I’m in awe of the beguiling manor house that sits some five-hundred metres in front of us. Between us and it, lies a perfectly manicured garden, with neatly trimmed hedges edging the pristine pebbled pathways. The sight would be breathtaking if I weren’t already out of breath.

“We can have a look in the manor house if you like, but my main aim was to show you the gardens,” Logan tells me. “There are twenty acres in total, they’re award-winning, and apparently a must-see for botanical fans,” he says, reciting the information that he’s obviously looked up in advance.
So thoughtful
! “Knowing your affinity for landscape design, I hoped you’d like it too,” he says, waiting for my reaction.

I lunge at him, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his. “I love it already,” I beam at him. “Thank you, Logan, this is…” Words momentarily fail me. “It’s surprising, actually, considering how brief our conversation about landscaping was.” I’m honoured that he remembered it.

“Brief, yes, but your passion was obvious, baby,” he tells me, taking ahold of my hand and leading the way.

We spend over two hours walking around at a very sedate pace. I talk Logan’s ear off, my enthusiasm bursting out of me as I encounter detail after detail that blows my mind. No wonder this place is renowned, it’s phenomenal! The more of it I see, the surer I become that my days as an interior designer are numbered. I have to follow this passion, I tell myself. Suddenly, I feel giddy about implementing Logan’s roof terrace garden in a few days time. That will be an indicator, I organise in my mind, after which I’ll decide if I’m daydreaming about this passion or not. Though, truthfully, all I’d need to do is create something
as good as this place, for me to consider myself a success.

,” I breathe, taking in another exemplary sight.

s an eight-metre high hedge
it shouldn

t impress you this much
. And yet, it does. It’s the simple things, I think, remembering Logan telling me that his passion for buildings was sparked by nothing more than being impressed by the sight of skyscrapers, and I liken my eagerness to his.

I snap a photograph on my phone; my camera is getting quite a workout this weekend.

“Why do you like it?” Logan asks curiously.

“That?” I point at the huge wall of green. “Or any of it?”

“Any of it,” he wonders. “What is it about landscaping that gets you? When did the love affair begin?”

“It began eight years ago when I moved to Paris,” I tell him. “Seeing the urban landscaping within the city, and gardens at Versailles…something ignited in me. I started reading books, and becoming nerdy,” I grin. “Did you know that the gardens in La Défense were designed by an American soldier in the nineteen-fifties?” I ask him.

“OK, you get extra nerd points for that,” Logan smiles, making me laugh.

We continue walking, hand in hand, and I divulge more. “A garden is always alive,” I say, constantly looking all around, not wanting to miss one part of the experience. “It grows and it changes and it dies, and it grows anew. There’s constant movement, even if we can’t see it with our eyes. And I think that’s why I like it so much,” I reveal. “Nature is all about life and rebirth and,” I shrug, “that seems like a nice thing to spend my life working with. Plus I like the colour green, so…” I trail off, making Logan chuckling.

“I have one thing left to show you,” he then tells me.

He leads me down a path following a signpost that reads:
. Our path grows narrower and narrower, with greenery closing in on all sides, until we round a corner and step onto a rocky outcrop which is free of any trees or shrubs and has the most incredible, uninterrupted sea views. My mouth drops open in amazement. There are sun loungers perfectly positioned for watching the sunset. We won’t be able to stay for that, I think, knowing that we’ll have to get back to the hotel and pack ahead of our evening flight back to Paris. But we can stay for a little while.

I tap the panoramic setting on my camera app once more, taking a few steps backwards, and saying to Logan, “Will you be in it?”

Appeasing me, he stands on the left side of the photograph and when I reach halfway, I steady my hand, and say, “Can you come over and hold it now?” Unsure what I’m up to, he does as I ask anyway, carefully taking the phone from me, before I run over to the right side of the outcrop. “OK, you can keep moving it,” I tell him. The photo that ends up being captured appears to have both he and I in it at the same time.

Smiling down at it, Logan mutters, “Magic.”

We swap positions again and I take several more photos, capturing him from all angles while he stands patiently, looking like my very own adonis in the light of the afternoon sun. Lowering my phone I then take a moment to observe him for myself, drinking in his handsome features and his beautiful presence, and feeling like many times before now, overwhelmed by him and the fact that he waited, so long, for me.

“What?” he asks, smiling at me. His dimples appear making him look even more gorgeous. And sexy. And adorable.

“I’m just thinking about your patience,” I confess. “I don’t think I can put into words how thankful I am that you saw me that evening at the AABD party; that you were aware enough to notice me and notice our potential; that you held onto that vision for so long. I can say with certainty, Logan, that without your persistence we wouldn’t be together right now, and that would be a real shame, because I kinda like being with you,” I smile at him, delivering the understatement of the century.

“I’m good at persistence,” he admits. “Besides, you’re worth it, Gemima. You’re worth waiting for,” he tells me again.

My heart starts pounding. I’m seduced on the spot. I bound over to him and wrap my arms around his waist squeezing him tightly, and nuzzling my face into his neck. “Thank you,” I say, meaning it with my whole heart. “This whole weekend has been wonderful!”

Expectedly his arms encase me. “You’re welcome,” he tells me.

“Your consideration knows no bounds.”

“You bring out the best in me,” he compliments.

Smiling against his skin, I mumble, “Then I must be doing a really good job.”

“You know, baby, I didn’t
to keep you on my mind — you wouldn’t leave me alone,” he accuses, making me laugh.

“Maybe I
know something would happen between us, and my subconscious kept lingering around you until the time was right,” I joke, gazing up at him.

“Maybe,” Logan laughs too. “You see, it was you all along.”

I smile, but shake my head. “It was you. And I’ll be grateful until the day I die,” I tell him, earnestly.

“A long, long, long time from now,” he demands.

I nod.

“And you’ll spend all that intervening time with me?” he asks openly.

“I’d like to,” I tell him, my voice quiet, but sure.

Joy radiates from him as he smiles at me, and I marvel that I am able to evoke such a reaction in him. He is
beautiful! “I’d like you to, too,” he says earnestly. And just like that we’ve, once again, both admitted that we want to spend the rest of our lives together. We gaze at each other for a moment, before Logan takes ahold of my hand, “Come.”

He leads us over to one of the sun loungers and sits down, his legs wide, leaving room for me. I sit too, nestling between them, and Logan pulls me backwards into his embrace, his arms wrapped firmly around my stomach and I relax against him, my head resting on his shoulder, his lips to my ear.

We stay like this, content and so in love, gazing out at the sensational vista. The warm sunshine on my skin, combined with Logan’s arms around me, feels divine. I close my eyes, just for a minute, in an attempt to feel it all better — it’s utter perfection. The minute turns into two, and then three and four, and before I realise what’s happening, my eyelids grow too heavy to open, my head lolls sideways, and I drift off to sleep.

3. Ex’s And Oh’s

wake up on Monday morning in Logan’s bed, my phone alarm ringing loudly on the bedside table next to him. I roll over him to turn it off. Funny, I don’t remember setting it, nor can I recall actually getting
bed last night. Yesterday evening is a total blur in my memory. I know eventually we left the picturesque lookout, and once back at the hotel we packed hastily and were driven to Nice International Airport. Our flight was quick and Logan used his make out tactic to distract me during takeoff, but I cannot recall landing at all. And now, here I am…

Beneath me Logan rouses, his arms wrapping around me, keeping me in place over him. I stay readily, watching him wake up with a smile on my face.

When his eyes finally open he smiles back at me. “Good mornin’,” he grumbles.

“I think I’ve learnt to teleport,” I tell him.

He laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound to hear first thing in the morning. Knowing what I’m referring to, he says, “That’s not how you got to bed last night.”

“Did I walk, and just not remember it?” I wonder.

He shakes his head and my eyes narrow.

“Well, I know
couldn’t have carried me, considering you’re still not allowed to do any heavy lifting,” I tell him pointedly.

“Would you rather Philippe carried you?” he grins. Philippe being a chauffeur for Logan’s company.

My eyes narrow even further. Then I roll off of him, pull the covers down to his midriff and start looking over his scarred abdomen.

“What are you doing?” Logan chuckles.

“Checking for hernias,” I say dramatically.

“Gemima,” his voice purrs, persuading me to look away from this perfect physique to his gorgeous face, “you teleported,” he informs me.

I laugh out loud at this revelation. “Good,” I nod.

“But, by all means, continue manhandling me,” he smiles, putting his hands behind his head, welcoming my touch.

My desire to do so is unquestionable, but alas, we both have jobs to get to. After a too-brief make out session, we reluctantly get up, get showered, and get dressed.

Just as we’re about to leave his apartment, Logan nips into his home office to pick up some documents for his day, when I hear him burst into laughter. Suddenly it clicks: whatever Buddy’s installed during our weekend away, Logan’s just found it.

I hurry to join him, and find in the doorway between his man’s den and his office, a large metal pole drilled horizontally parallel into the doorframe. What
that? I think it looks a little like the structure that the material is hung from in my airyoga class.

Logan is looking down and laughing at a piece of paper in his hands. I peer over his shoulder to see it.
! Buddy has drawn a very explicit picture of the purpose of said pole, which is to hold up a sex swing! In the swing he’s drawn two figures, labeled
, and they certainly seem to be having an enjoyable time.
Oh my
! My insides squirm deliciously. Underneath his drawing, he explains:

The framework is steady. Obviously. However, the swing itself (which I may have tested out with a ‘friend’ on Friday night) broke during our…test.

BOOK: She: Part 2
11.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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