He walks back out into the room, stopping near the lefthand side wall, half way down the length of the room.

“There were tables all the way up and down this wall,” he tells me. “Drinks, nibbles, that sort of thing.”

He then walks away from the wall into the very centre of the room, saying as he goes, “There were lots of blue lights everywhere, and snowflake-things.”

I stare at him perplexed. Snowflake-things?

“I was standing right here,” he stops in his tracks, facing me. He couldn’t look any sexier in that suit of his if he tried, I muse. Long legs, broad chest, hands in pockets, cool stance. Though I might just be noticing his physicality because I still don’t know what he’s talking about. His next words confuse me even more. “And you were standing exactly where you are, right now,” he continues.

“I’ve been here before?” I ask, my shock evident in my voice. I look all around me, but see nothing of familiarity. “Logan, where are we?” I finally ask him.

“We’re in a memory,” he beams at me. “I was standing right here,” he says again, but this time he adds, “the very first time that I saw you, the very instant that I fell for you.”

My mouth hits the floor, my heart pounds in my chest, and tears pool in my eyes. The winter AABD party…it was in this room!

“This is…this is where it happened?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

“If by it you mean love at first sight, then, yes,” Logan laughs jovially.

“Logan,” I whimper, my bottom lip trembling. Seriously, Gem, get that lip under control. But I cannot. This moment is too meaningful to keep all these good feelings inside, and crying is the second best way that I can express myself. The best way would hardly be appropriate given our public setting.

Tears start streaming down my face, as Logan tells me, “I’ve invited the people we care about the most to join us — my parents, your mom, Amber, Buddy, Karen, Abby — they’re all coming, but they’re not supposed to get here from another ten minutes or so.” Evidently expecting my tears of joy, he adds, “I thought you might want a little time to enjoy the sentiment, just the two of us.”

That’s the politest way possible to say: a little time to pull yourself together. Who am I kidding? My bottom lip doesn’t stand a chance against him!

“You think you know me so well,” I cry in mock outrage, making him laugh once more. He does know me so well. I stare at him in amazement and feel certain that he can hear my hammering heart from across the room.

Wow, I think. I’m not only blown away by him organising this, here, but also by the obvious fact that Logan’s memories of that party are not tainted with anger or sadness that I was unavailable to him. What he told me on Thursday night is true, and in bringing me back here he’s confirming that that night and the two years that followed weren’t arduous, but were filled with a knowingness that one day we would be together.

It’s the perfect place to celebrate our engagement, because despite how unaware and asleep I was at the time, it was that night in this room that changed the course of my life forever, and which has eventually lead to this full-circle moment.

“Oh, Logan,” I murmur again.

I walk over to him; he stands still, watching me approach. As I walk, I marvel that he waited for me for two years without anything to encourage him other than the surety that the sight of me somehow provided for him. I must’ve looked damn good the night, I muse. And albeit he stayed at a distance, he still stayed, and that’s the only reason that I am able to stride into his open arms, cup his smiling face in my hands, and kiss him like there’s no tomorrow.

Stealing his line from this morning, I whisper against his lips, “There are no words to describe you sometimes.” Though that fact in itself says enough about him. His graciousness overwhelms me. He’s more thoughtful, more romantic, and more loveable than I believed a person could be. As I gaze up at him, I still don’t quite believe he’s real, and perhaps I never will. Perhaps that’s just Logan’s charm, and I’ll just have to suck it up, I think sarcastically.

Logan smiles at me, looking at me as though I’m the one who brought him here and gave him this beautiful surprise. How backwards he’s got it, and abruptly I need him to know that.

“Every good thing that has happened, that is happening, and that will happen between us is all because of you, Logan.” I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to get even closer to him. “You’re the greatest love that I’ve ever known, and the best man, the best person,” I amend, “that I’ve ever met. You’re an inspiration to me, and I want to spend the rest of my life making sure that you know just how grateful I am that you waited all that time,” I tell him. I press my lips to his for a long, memorable moment, while I move one of my hands onto his chest and revel in feeling his thundering heartbeat. I utter, “We wouldn’t have any of this if it weren’t for you, so thank you, baby,” I breathe against his lips.

Logan’s face breaks into a breathtaking smile. He’s touched by my honest words. Good. “You’re welcome, Gemima. Besides, waiting for you was easy. I just applied the same practise that I do in business,” he tells me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Oh? I can’t keep from laughing at his unexpected words. “Which is?”

“I never settle,” he says simply. “How could I ever settle for anything less when you were, and still are, the pinnacle of everything that I’ve ever wanted?”

His words enliven me; every ounce of my being is happy right now. “You do deserve the best,” I say, slyly.

“And I have her,” he nods surely. “You’re my best friend, and I can’t wait to flirt with you, play with you, date you, and make love to you for the rest of my life. I can’t wait to say I do.”

Cue the bottom lip tremble. “I can’t wait, either,” I say, my voice suddenly quietly. I really, really can’t. “What about July fourteenth?” I ask him out of the blue.

That’s Bastille Day here in France, a national holiday, and there are always amazing celebrations taking place all over Paris. It’ll be like the whole city is celebrating with us.

Logan beams at me. “I think July fourteenth can’t come soon enough.” He’s brimming with youthful, boyish enthusiasm as he adds, “How do you feel about Versailles?”

Uh…what? I gaze at him incredulously, my heart beating overtime once more.

“That’s the green light that Buddy gave me the other night,” he finally reveals. “We can get married in the gardens of Versailles.”

My mind goes blank. “Are you…are you serious?” I ask, in barely more than a whisper.

“Completely,” Logan laughs, enjoying my speechless reaction.

He wraps his arms around my waist and peers down at me, waiting for me to say something but I can’t; I can’t attain a firm grasp on what’s just been decided because it’s simply too surreal, too magical. I’m struck dumb. He told me that he thought he’d found my dream location, but the truth is that Versailles is so far beyond my dream wedding location that I’ve never once given it a thought.

Besides… “I thought you had to be royalty to do things there. And not just construction industry royalty,” I blurt out, my shock-induced babbling commencing.

Logan shakes his head, laughing once more. “We’re allowed,” he confirms. “But your clear lack of enthusiasm—”

“No,” I shake my head, not wanting him to mistake my disbelief for resistance.

“Uh…no?” he asks in surprise, and I suddenly realise that he was only teasing me a moment ago, and now he thinks that I’m not interested!

My eyes grow wide; my excitement has rendered me too damn flustered. Be clear, Gem, for fuck’s sake, Versailles is on the line here!