No pressure, Gem, but you better make a good impression, I taunt myself.

As we integrate, my mom lingers with us until she spots Mary-Gene and the rest of Logan’s family nearby and she disappears in their direction. Mercy is with them too. She looks radiant in a flowing white gown and when she catches sight of me, she smiles broadly and waves me over.

I let go of Logan’s hand for the first time since entering the room. “I’ll find you in a little bit,” I promise him, and he nods, his attention stolen a moment later by one of his colleagues. “Mercy, you look beautiful,” I tell her when we’re face to face a few moments later.

Ignoring my compliment, she pulls me into a big hug and mutters quietly, “I’m so happy for you!”

Huh? It takes me a moment to remember that she knows about our engagement.

“Oh, thank you,” I say when we break apart, unable to keep the smile from my face.

“You’re going to have such a good life together, I just know it,” she effuses joyfully. “I’ll be so happy to look after your children.”

“I’m not preg—” I begin.

“Not now,” Mercy cuts in, “but soon you will be,” she nods surely.

Uh… Change the subject, I tell myself hastily. “I think we’ll focus on our puppy for the time being. He’s so gorgeous, Mercy, I can’t wait to meet him.”

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to have him,” she smiles at me. “Mary-Gene was just telling me that you’re visiting Charleston this summer,” she says, making me grin. Oh, did she now, I think comically. “So don’t think twice about asking me to look after the little pup,” Mercy says firmly. “I promise you he’ll be safe with me.” She’s so insistent that I suspect she wouldn’t mind keeping our Samuel for herself.

“Bonjour, Gemima,” a familiar voice says to my right.

I turn and see Amélie Clémence standing next to me. Her attire is much like that which she wears to work — classic, stylish, sophisticated. The main difference is that now, for quite possibly the first time that I’ve seen, she’s got her hair hanging down in long, loose curls. They soften her usually austere appearance; she looks good like this, I note.

“Bonjour,” I say, still smiling from Mercy’s last words.

Mercy excuses herself, leaving me with another hug and a sweet kiss on the cheek. She really is adorable.

“A good friend of yours?” Amélie enquires after her.

“She’s very close to Logan,” I explain. “Have you seen him yet?” I ask, looking around for him.

“Non,” she says. “Excusez-moi pendant un moment,” she then says, responding to an apparently urgent message on her phone. Excuse me for a moment.

“Uh, OK…” She comes over to speak to me and abandons me a second later. I refrain from rolling my eyes. Instead I put them to better use, looking for Logan once more. I do a double take when I catch sight of him. I watch him move, tall and graceful, shaking hands, kissing cheeks, and being received with great enthusiasm. I don’t watch him to monitor his interactions, I watch him because he is too stunning not to. He knows exactly where I am, because every twenty seconds or so, he looks over at me, just for long enough for me to catch a glimpse of that stunning smile. Our spark is still potent, I note, no matter how far apart we are, the second our eyes meet it’s as though there’s no one here but us. It’s a beautiful, magical, fulfilling feeling to have. It suddenly occurs to me that our mutual affinity of our bubble, our connection, means that separation renders it unbreakable.

The sound of Amélie tutting makes me drop my gaze from Logan and look at her again. Her phone is nowhere insight, but for some reason her body language is extremely tense and a moment later I learn why. I jump in fright when someone behind me unexpectedly pinches my waist. I turn and see Buddy, looking more dapper than I would have thought possible.

“Chill, Gem,” he greets me, smiling mischievously. I know in an instant that it’s not a coincidence that he’s chosen right now to come and say hello. “Amélie, you’re looking…” he considers his coming insult carefully.

However, before he can deliver it, Amélie says, “Tais-toi, vous des porcs.” Shut up, you disgusting pig.

There’s a terse silence. They’re staring at each other with a mutual lack of respect.

Gem, say something! With little else going through my mind, I revert back to my earlier question. “Have you seen Logan yet?”

“No,” Amélie says sharply, evidently not remembering that I’d already asked her.

“Not yet,” Buddy says shortly.

Silence looms around us once more. Why would Buddy choose to create a situation this uncomfortable?

“You both look wonderful,” I say, desperately trying to kickstart some form of decent conversation.

“Merci, vous aussi,” Amélie says, though her eyes never leave Buddy’s face. Thank you, so do you.

“Yes,” Buddy agrees with her, “you scrub up nicely, Gem.”

Something about his words makes Amélie grimace. I sigh. I’ve tried, I’ve failed.

“This is so awkward,” I mutter under my breath.

“Let me make it less so,” Amélie announces with a scowl, her eyes dangerously narrow. “Gemima, I will seek you out later,” she says to me, “when we are not interrupted by such low quality company.”

I stop myself from laughing at her words. “Alright,” I nod. “Have a good evening, Amélie.”

She gives me a polite smile, before curtly turning on her sky-high heels and marching far away from us.

Buddy starts chuckling as he watches her leave, as if happy he won the standoff.

“You are a shit-stirrer,” I grin at him.

“Me? Never,” he says cheekily. “Ah, I do enjoy the sexual tension between her and I,” he jokes, and I laugh loudly. There was absolutely nothing sexual about the tension between them.

Despite this, I continue the joke, saying, “If you love each other, you should be together.”

Abruptly, Buddy beams at me.

“What?” I ask. He doesn’t love her, does he?

“I’ve heard someone else say those words recently.” Then in further explanation, he says, “You’re exactly the same as Logan, do you know that? Just as hopelessly naive about love in the real world,” he laughs, forgetting entirely about Amélie.

“I don’t think we’re naive,” I say stubbornly.

“Your story is one in a million,” he tells me.

“It doesn’t have to be,” I point out. “Our story is only what it is because we made it that way. Besides, I don’t mean to alarm you, but there’s no such thing as the real world, Buddy.”

He laughs, and puts his hand on my arm, saying, “You might just be right about that. Especially considering that I hear we’re going to be siblings-in-law?”

I smile at him and nod eagerly. “And I hear you knew before I did.”

“Yes,” he admits with another laugh. “Logan couldn’t contain himself when we talked about it. I did try to point out how incredibly fast it all is,” he confesses, but then he shrugs, as though we’re a helpless cause. “He’s crazy about you, Gem. I don’t think anything can stop a man that’s that in love.”

His insights tickle me.

“Besides,” he continues, “when I saw you two together on Wednesday night, I got the sneaking suspicious that you guys are the real-deal. Like Rupert and MG. Did you come with them?” he adds, changing the topic.

“Uh, yes,” I nod, glancing into the crowd around us, looking for them. I don’t see them, but I do see Taylor. He’s staring at Buddy with contempt. Jeez, here we go again, Tantrum Taylor is back. In turn I stare at him, remembering what Logan told me on his birthday about Taylor telling him that he doesn’t deserve to be appreciated for anything. Well, what about this gigantic room of supporters and well-wishers, you bastard, I think gleefully.