I let go of Logan’s hand to hug her, while insisting, “So are you.”

In person she carries an unmistakable presence. A playfulness, a likability, a warmth. And her husband, though more reserved in his approach, is very charismatic, exuding an effortless power that has a cool Kennedy-vibe to it. Logan is a perfect mix of them, with the addition of a few unique traits of his own.

“You look amazing after such a long flight,” I compliment. “How was your trip?” I press on, overly anxious about keeping the conversation flowing. Just keep putting one word after the other, I tell myself.

As I talk, Logan drapes a comforting arm over my shoulder and in a natural movement I reach my hand up to take ahold of his, interlacing our fingers. Instead of answering my question, his parents stare at our union.

After a prolonged moment of silence, his mother blurts out, “Y’all look adorable together.”

His father follows with, “She sure is pretty, son.”

I give a nervous giggle.

“Rupey, did we bring our camera?” Mary-Gene asks him.

“No, mom,” Logan laughs, putting a stop to her plans. “You’re not taking pictures to show all of your friends. And yes, dad, she is pretty. I’ve told you both that a million times,” he says, grinning at me and enjoying the flush of colour that comes to my face. I can’t help but smile back at him.

“Actually, darlin’, what you said to us was that Gemima is your reason for living and without her you’d curl up and die,” Mary-Gene reveals.

I start laughing and squeeze Logan’s hand affectionately.

Logan looks perplexed. “I don’t remember that particular conversation.”

“You were very dramatic about it,” she tells him.

“When?” Logan challenges.

“It was right after your surgery, Loges,” Rupert explains. “Only last week.”

I laugh even more, saying, “He was a little dopey after his surgery. He said all sorts of funny things.”

“Oh, yeah,” Logan breathes as realisation hits, “I remember now,” he nods at his mom. “I laid out very clearly how I feel about you,” he says to me. Then to his parents, he’s says, “And it’s all true; I love her.”

I can feel the blush rising in my cheeks, but I don’t care. I reach up and give him a quick peck on the lips. For a short but beautiful moment, our eyes pour into one another’s; they’re filled with affection. Then before my mind can process that I’ve just kissed Logan in front of his parents (which could lead to all manner of inappropriate comments) I simply tell them, “And I love him.”

Mary-Gene squeals excitedly, while Rupert laughs jovially.

“We’re thrilled for the pair of you,” he says. “It’s good to see you so loved-up. We thought you were a lost cause,” Rupert teases his son.

“Never,” I laugh, gazing at Logan in reverence.

“I was just waiting for the one, dad,” Logan says, looking back at me, and I note that though his parents are only two feet away from us, their proximity doesn’t affect the sensual bubble that Logan and I seem to slip so effortlessly into whenever we’re together. I’m thrilled by this observation.

“Please, Logan,” Mary-Gene begs, “just one photo?”

Logan gives me a what-do-you-think kind of look.

“Of course,” I smile at his mother. I can’t think of another person that I’d rather be photographed with.

“Fine,” Logan concedes, “but let’s take it outside.”

“I’ll admit I was a little sidetracked by seeing you two canoodling, but I did notice that this is all new,” Rupert says about the roof terrace when we all step outside.

“To you and me both,” Logan tells him. “I saw it for the first time about twenty minutes ago.”

And what a breathtaking twenty minutes they were, I think.

“This is Gemima’s birthday present to me,” he announces happily. “I still can’t believe it,” he smiles.

“Gemima, this is magnificent,” Mary-Gene says, looking around in awe.

“You did all of this by yourself?” Rupert asks.

“I designed it myself, I picked everything out based on what I thought Logan would like. Then today Mercy and I had some hired help to get everything into place. They did a great job,” I say, giving credit where credit’s due.

“So did you. This is very impressive,” Rupert gives his approval.

“Absolutely,” his wife agrees.

Logan and I grin at each other before he says, “It’s abso-fucking-lutely, mom. Nobody says absolutely by itself anymore.”

“Duly noted, kid, now go and stand over there,” she points to the large ceramic pot with the somewhat-battered tree in it.

Logan and I obediently stand where we’re told and follow her further instructions.

“I feel like I’m going to Prom,” I mutter out of Mary-Gene’s earshot, feeling a little stiff. I shake my body out and attempt to look more casual.

“You look stunning, baby. You don’t take a bad photo, I know that for a fact. I was there when your company portrait was taken, remember?” he smiles.

“I’m glad you’re thinking about that right now,” I say, remembering the other presents that I have to give him tomorrow, one of them being a photo from that very shoot.

“Why?” he asks.

I shrug, playing nonchalant. “Just am,” I say, before giving him a cheeky grin, which totally gives away that I’m hiding something.

His eyes narrow and I laugh, enjoying the tease. Then in an attempt at distracting him, I tell him, “This is the first time we’ve posed together as a couple.”

“Lots of firsts tonight,” Logan chuckles.

“First quickie…” I begin.

“First time doing it outside…”

“First dinner with the in-laws,” we list them all, pausing between each one to smile for Mary-Gene’s camera. She must have enough by now, I think, her finger hasn’t lifted from the shutter since we’ve been standing here.

Logan’s arm tightens around my waist. “If they hear you call them that they might just combust with excitement,” he beams. “A bit like I am right now,” he laughs.

I watch him as he laughs, reveling in how happy my words have made him. “One day I’d like to call them that,” I tell him with a wink.

“Un jour vous le ferez,” he nods confidently. One day you will do.

And just like that, our guests disappear from my awareness as everything in me focusses on Logan and I. We’ve done it again: both admitted that, more than spending the rest of our lives together, we want to do so as husband and wife. Joy becomes me at the very thought of it.

Ignoring the fact that we’re supposed to be posing, Logan turns inwards to face me, his free hand cupping my face as he brings his lips to mine. “I’m so in love with you, Gemima,” he whispers.

It’s my turn to beam at him. “Ditto, baby.” I lean forward to kiss him, but our embrace is cut short by his mother’s next words.

“Oh, look at them,” Mary-Gene coos. “Rupert, how do I take videos on this thing?”

I smile against Logan’s lips. He pulls back, rolling his eyes playfully.

“And that’s enough with the camera,” he says, ending our photo shoot. Hand in hand we walk back across the terrace, before Logan asks, “Who would like a drink?”

“That’s a great idea, Loges,” his dad pats him on the back.

“Yes, and I’ll get dinner heating through,” I add. “You sit and relax,” I say to them all, “I’ll bring the wine out.”

“I’ll join you,” Mary-Gene says at once.

She links her arm with my free one and I’m tugged from Logan’s hand as she pulls me away from him and Rupert into the apartment, towards the kitchen.

“Your dress is to die for, Gemima. You and Logey match so perfectly, and y’all make such a handsome couple,” she says very quickly and I can’t keep the smile from my face. She’s so exuberant and bubbly. “Are y’all fixing to come to Charleston anytime soon?” she asks, though before I can answer, she adds, “I don’t care what Logan says, I can’t wait to show you off!”