“Ah, yes,” she says, pulling it out and handing it back to me. “What do I think?” she asks herself, exchanging a weighted look with the stranger. “You do not have an accurate understanding of your talent, Gemima.”

Uh? Is that a compliment, I wonder.

“Once you realise how good you are, we will be in trouble,” she indicates to the man and herself, “which is why we’re acting now.”

I stare at her nonplussed. “I literally did not understand a word of that,” I say quickly, getting to my feet. Fuck it, I think, I love drawing and this little test will be more like fun than actual work. I’m sure I’ll discover what’s going on eventually. “Two weeks,” I nod at Amélie, leaving her office without acknowledging the man at all.

I bypass my desk and walk straight to reception, to Layla.

She smiles pleasantly. “Que puis-je faire pour vous, Gemima?” she asks. What can I do for you, Gemima?

My phone starts ringing in my pants pocket: it’s Logan. “Hi, Layla,” I smile back, hastily answering his call, “Baby, can you hold on just one moment?”

“Sure,” Logan says quickly.

“Uh, there’s a man currently in Amélie’s office, and I wondered if you know who he is?” I whisper to Layla.

“Oui, naturellement,” she nods. Yes, of course.

“Can you tell me?” I push her.

Her response makes my stomach drop. “That’s Mr. Pierson, the founder and owner of the company. He’s Amélie’s boss,” she tells me.

Oh, fuck!

My face no doubt pale, I thank Layla and start walking back to my desk. “I may not have a job by the time you see me later,” I tell Logan dramatically.

“Why?” he asks, sounding concerned.

“I got slightly mouthy with Amélie’s boss because I didn’t realise who he was.”

Logan starts chuckling, which tells me straightaway that all hope is not lost. “André Pierson?” he questions me.

“I think so.”

“He’s not a very serious man, Gemima. He likes to have fun more than he likes to work, much to Amélie’s disdain. At least, that’s what Buddy told me a few years back, on one of the only occasions that he spoke about her.”

Phew, I think. “I’ve never even seen him here before, but the way Amélie was talking…it’s weird…” Something’s changing within the company, I’m suddenly convinced.

“Maybe you’re getting a promotion?” he considers.

“Already?” I wonder out loud. “I doubt it would be a promotion in the interior design sector, anyway, considering she’s got me drawing up more landscape designs, telling me that it’s a test,” I inform him.

“Really? Then there’s definitely movement in the company,” he confirms my suspicions. “I knew it was weird that she had you do a report on the terrace,” he adds.

“Hmm, time will tell exactly what,” I muse. I sit at my desk and stick my phone between my shoulder and ear, freeing my hands to work. As I progress through a pile of online order forms, I continue talking to Logan and though it’s not comfortable, it’s better than not hearing his voice. “Tell me about your day,” I request.

“It’s been great,” he says happily. “I was wearing my birthday badge…under my suit jacket,” he admits, making me smile. “Though I forgot about it during a meeting with Grace and Michel, and when I took my jacket off they had a good laugh at me, I’m sure you’ll be delighted to hear.”

Perfect, I think. “Very happy to hear that,” I grin into my phone. Hearing Michel’s name reminds me of something, “Have you started your speech for Saturday night yet?”

“Yes, but it’s awful. Speaking of Saturday, though, my mom wants to hang out with you during the day,” he tells me. “I think I’m allowed to come as well,” he jokes.

An idea springing to mind, I suggest, “What if I book us all on a Segway tour of the city? That way we’ll all be together and they’ll also get to see touristy things.”

He’s silent for a moment. “I’m googling it,” he reveals.

“OK, let me know and I’ll book it,” I press, making him chuckling. “How was it seeing your whole family again?” I then ask.

“It was…the same as always; Karen and Abigail are wonderful, and Taylor’s still cold and distant.”

Pulling a face, I say, “I got a bit of that vibe this morning.”

“Was he rude to you?” Logan asks curtly.

“No, baby,” I say hastily. “It was just a vibe,” I say again.

Logan sighs. “That vibe is called asshole-mode. Buddy joined us for a coffee towards the end of lunch which prompted Taylor to enter full asshole-mode. It’s kind of like he has a condition, you know? Like some people have a limp or a stoop; Taylor has asshole-mode,” he tells me. “Each time I see him I’m hopeful that he’s gotten over what happened nearly two decades ago, but as soon as I saw him this morning it was clear that he still hasn’t.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Logan. It must be really disappointing.”

“I’m used to it by now,” he says, seemingly unaffected.

“You shouldn’t have to be, though,” I say, getting rattled. “You deserve to be treated kindly.”

“Thank you, baby, but it’s not worth getting upset over, I promise you,” he tells me. “I’m a nice guy; I know that, the people who matter to me know that, so fuck what Taylor thinks,” he says cooly.

I smile at his words. “So long as you realise,” I begin, “that if he does say something nasty about you in front of me, I cannot be held responsible for whatever comes out of my mouth, OK?” I tell him theatrically.

Laughing, Logan assures me, “Understood. I actually can’t wait for you to meet his whole family.”

“Tomorrow, maybe?”

“No, he and Karen are taking Abigail to Disneyland, and staying late to watch the nighttime parade.”

Saturday, then, I think. “Are they going with your parents and Buddy to the Moulin Rouge tonight?”

“Apparently they wanted to, but Abigail’s too young to be allowed into the theatre. So Taylor suggested that I look after her tonight.”

Seriously? Babysitting on his birthday? “Um, are we?” I ask. But before he can answer, I blurt out, “Isn’t it a bit of a dick-move to even ask you?”

“I think so,” he agrees. “Especially to ask me in front of Abby, making it much harder to say no, which I did. That’s the first time that he’s really used her to get at me.”

“He can’t know about your run-in with Jerry, then,” I point out, remembering that Logan said Taylor wouldn’t trust him around his daughter after learning about Logan’s punch last week.

“No, I guess not.”

“So, you said no? How did you get out of it?”

“I told him I had plans. He said doing what? To which Buddy responded doing Gemima,” Logan laughs.

Thanks, Bud, I think sarcastically.

“I don’t know what they’ll end up doing tonight, but the only thing I’m contemplating is you in those bows and all of the wonderful ways that I can eat cake off of you.”

Oh, Logan!

I’m silent as I replay Tuesday night, when I was Logan’s personal candy store, over in my mind. Ah, his lips caressing every inch of my skin felt so damn good! But something niggles at the back of mind spoiling my erotic flashback; something apparently called asshole-mode.

Why, I ask myself. Why does Taylor still make Logan pay for something that happened nineteen years ago? I understand that Taylor must have been scarred, physically and emotionally, but hasn’t he figured out by now that being an asshole doesn’t heal anything? And why, I ask myself again, doesn’t Logan say something? Perhaps I just don’t have his same level of zen, because I’d go ballistic if I had someone griping at me all the time.

“Logan, can I, uh, ask you something potentially annoying?” I say tentatively.

“Always,” he says and I can practically hear him grinning.

Feeling spurred on by what he said last night about still being able to recall the look on Taylor’s face when he beat him up, I ask, “Have you ever considered that maybe you let Taylor’s behaviour slide because you feel guilty?”