“The cameras are going to love you,” he says.

Cameras? It takes me a moment to understand what he’s talking about. My stomach drops, and I gape at him in horror. “There’s…there’s going to be a red carpet tonight?” I ask, suddenly dreading his answer.

“Uh-huh,” he laughs.

“Fuck,” I say, sounding the word out very slowly. How did I miss that detail?

Logan laughs again and though I’m happy his mood is lighter, I’m not overly thrilled by the reason why. He tells me, “You’re so good in front of cameras. You start radiating, remember?” he says, referring to my photo shoot with Claude.

“That was different, I was looking at you.”

“And now you’ll be standing next to me,” he smiles, taking my hand over the table. Repeating last nights actions I move to sit on his lap. I look into his light-green eyes and see in them the same love for me, that I feel for him. “Isn’t that even better?” he asks me.

“You’ve got a point, Leary,” I allow.

“Yes, I do,” he smiles against my lips. “All we have to do is walk slowly past the cameras and then it’s over. When we’re inside you can get as drunk as you like,” he jokes.

I laugh at the thought of it. “I’ll start wolf whistling during your speech,” I threaten playfully.

He sighs looking down at his notes, “At least that would make it more interesting.” He’s clearly still unsure of it. “Cameras or no cameras, it’s impossible for you to be dreading tonight more than I am, baby.”

“Why?” I press. Once again I say, “I’d love a whole room full of people telling me how fabulous I am.”

He looks affronted by the thought.

“I have an idea,” I say to him calmly, spying his mobile phone lying on the table. I pick it up and hold it close to my chest so that Logan won’t see what I’m doing. I open up the internet browser and type into Google: jokes about the construction industry. Several promising sites pop up in an instant. Excellent, I think, clicking on one of the links and finally showing Logan what I’ve found. “Maybe using one or two of these will help you to feel better about your speech?” I ask him.

He looks at the screen, registers my idea, and then he smiles at me and leans forward to kiss me before even reading any of the jokes. “That’s very thoughtful.”

I grin back at him and then jerk my head towards the screen because he won’t stop looking at me. Still smiling, Logan begins reading through the first joke and then abruptly bursts into laughter. That’s a good start, I note. I read the same joke and get to the end of it without cracking a smile; I don’t get it at all. It goes way over my head, but I’m not involved in the construction industry; however, I assume that most of the people in attendance tonight will be, making this idea of mine a potential laughter-goldmine.

Confirming this, Logan takes his phone in his own hand, flicking through several more, saying, “These are hilarious. The guys at work would love them.”

The jokes may not make me smile but the sight of his happiness certainly does. “Good,” I say, kissing his temple.

“Where’d you find these?”

“My friend Google,” I tell him.

His eyes are on the screen, reading another joke, but his mouth makes an O of understanding at my words. A second later he erupts into laughter again, before eagerly showing me the cause. I read it through once without any reaction, then making sure that I didn’t miss something, I read it again. Nope, still nothing.

Confessing my ignorance, I say, “I don’t understand.”

“What about this?” Logan shows me another one which completely floored him, but I fail to grasp it.

I shake my head. Then with a mischievous smile, I assure him, “But I promise you, I’ll laugh when you say it tonight.”

* * *

My afternoon is full of learning more about Logan’s family. We meet them at a place called Segway Central, where our tour will begin from. Mary-Gene and Rupert say a flustered hello, shoving droves of shopping bags into the lockers provided. Clearly their morning involved retail therapy. Taylor hangs back raising a hand to say hello, as Karen and Abigail bound towards us. Abigail soon releases her mother’s hand and breaks into a run, jumping into Logan’s arms. He catches her easily and lifts her up.

“Abby, this is Gemima,” he introduces us.

The gorgeous blonde-haired five-and-a-half year old, may have been excited to meet me, but she suddenly becomes adorably shy now that she is.

“Hello, Abby,” I smile.

She grins back and mumbles a responding hello as she buries her face into Logan’s shoulder. The sight of them is too much for me. Be still my beating heart, I think dramatically. In the back of my mind I’m reminded of Mary-Gene’s comment — there really is something sexy about men and kids. Sure enough when I look at Logan’s mother again she gives me a knowing wink which makes me giggle.

I turn my attention to Karen, a thin, willowy brunette with hair that comes down to her midriff and dark brown eyes. It wasn’t evident in the photo that I’ve seen of her, but up close she has a definite Native American bloodline. She smiles, immediately giving off warmer vibes than her husband.

“Gemima, it’s so wonderful to meet you,” she says, striding forward to hug me.

“You too,” I smile back at her. I know instantly that we’ll get along. There is a mutual interest, curiosity, kinship in the way we greet each other. It’s similar to how I felt when I first met Amber, and I suddenly realise that romantic relationships aren’t the only ones that spark instantly.

With his niece in his arms, Logan walks over to his brother.

Taylor greets him by saying, “You messed up the booking for this, Logan. She’s too small to go on one of these,” he says, referring to Abby and the Segways.

Oh, shit! Her age never even occurred to me! “I’m so sorry,” I say, hurrying forward. “I, uh, booked it,” I explain. A flicker of annoyance towards Taylor courses through me — that shouldn’t be the first thing that you say to your brother, I think.

Taylor looks taken aback, before his expression changes to one of annoyance as well. It’s as though he wants Logan to be the one to blame for the cock-up. It abruptly occurs to me that that’s exactly what he wants. It’s very telling of his character.

“Oh, I thought—” Taylor begins.

Joining us, Karen cuts her husband off, saying, “Why would you even bring that up? It’s already been sorted,” she reveals.

Phew.

“The company does bike tours as well,” Rupert tells us. “So I’m going to cycle along side you, with Abigail on the back,” he explains.

Logan claps Taylor’s shoulder. “See, absolutely no need to get your panties in a twist,” he teases him. Then giving me a reassuring smile he leaves our little circle to go over and say hello to his mom.

“Could you try not to be a dick today,” Karen mumbles to Taylor, who’s eyes are on Logan’s back, his contempt obvious.

My American Mouth rises so fast that I simply cannot hold it back. “Do you automatically assume that everything is Logan’s fault?” I ask. Internally, I shudder at my own brazenness. I don’t usually say things like that! I think them, sure, but I’m not one for open confrontation. Taylor’s eyes narrow infinitesimally, and he and I have a stare-off. Albeit one that lasts only a second, but it’s plenty of time for the equal dislike to cement between us.

Karen sighs and answers, “Yes, unfortunately. Just have a nice day, baby,” she coos to him, kissing his cheek.

“Sure,” Taylor nods, and it would seem that his mood is changed.

* * *

Standing on the Segway proves far easier than I anticipated. Operating it, however, leaves something to be desired. After five strained minutes in the practise ring, I’m already mentally preparing the angry email that I’ll send the designers, listing several flaws. But when I look up and see everyone else moving smoothly along the ground, I realise that it’s me, not the machine. Of course, I think. I relax a little and study Logan’s body, his posture and small movements, as he moves in circles around me. I’m not perving, I’m simply watching to see how better I can operate this thing, I think slyly. Five minutes later and my imagined email has somewhat calmed as I begin to get to grips with how to move fluidly, turn successfully, and come to a stop without my heart pounding manically as I fear for my life. I remind myself, several times, that I booked this; it’s supposed to be fun, something that we can all enjoy together.