He catches me watching him, blinks and then quickly looks away, but not before I’m able to tell that my friendliness with Buddy, whom Taylor clearly loathes, has just caused Taylor’s approval rating of me to go down even further. Taking a leaf out of Logan’s book I think, fuck what he thinks of me. I roll my eyes as I watch him disappear amongst the mass of people.

Following my line of sight, Buddy says, “Ah-ha! I knew it was only a matter of time before you joined Team Logan.”

Team Logan? “I’m ever hopeful that this attitude will improve.” For Logan’s sake. “But in truth, I don’t hold out much hope.”

“You shouldn’t. When it comes to Taylor, hope is not enough,” Buddy says surely. “He’s a mother fucking asshole.”

“Are we talking about Jerry again?” my mother says, appearing at my side.

“No, someone else,” I say hastily. My attention is immediately diverted away from Taylor as I’m quick to notice a sudden glimmer in Buddy’s eyes as he takes in the sight of my mother. Oh, hell no! “Don’t even think about it!” I tell him clearly.

“Enchanté,” he addresses my mom, smoothly.

“Buddy,” I growl.

He starts laughing immediately. “Gem, you know I like older women,” he says to me.

Clearly aware that she’s being courted, my mother tells him, “Buddy, I presume?”

“Oui, and you must be Gemima’s older sister.”

I roll my eyes again. Seriously? Do these lines actually work for him?

“Nice try, kid, but I’ve just been warned about your womanising ways. Mary-Gene told me to expect an advance from you.”

“She’s a perceptive woman,” Buddy compliments his pseudo-mother.

“That she is,” my mom agrees. “So am I, and I can tell you right now, you’re going to have to dip your quill in somebody else’s ink pot.”

“I like a challenge,” he smiles at her.

OK, time for an intervention. “Mom, go hang out with Mary-Gene, or find the bar,” I suggest. “And Buddy,” I spin him around and push him into the crowd, following him saying, “you and I are going to find Logan.”

“You’re a killjoy, Gemima,” Buddy chuckles.

“I will joyfully kill you if you sleep with my mother!” I tell him.

Submerged in the masses it’s hard to look further than a few feet ahead of me, at least at my height, but Buddy, who’s taller than most we pass, seems to know where we’re going, and sure enough we break through the crowd and stumble upon Logan and several of his work colleagues whom I met last Tuesday, plus a few new faces.

Sneaking up behind him, Buddy wraps his arms around Logan’s waist, hugging him from behind, and in a high, shrill voice, he says, “It’s me, Gemima.”

The circle of people erupts into laughter, and I can’t help but join them.

“I do not sound like that,” I laugh, walking over to Logan’s side once Buddy has let him go. Logan and I smile at each other, and immediately it’s there again — that amorous spark. I revel in how everything inside of our bubble is exactly the same. Becoming engaged hasn’t changed anything between us, and I don’t want it to. I don’t suddenly feel bridezilla stirring within me, nor do I get possessed with jealousy as I notice in my peripheral vision a few women ogling him as they walk by. Everything’s the same, it’s just he and I. Neither of us makes a sound while the others continue laughing and jeering our gooey eyes for one another. I reach up to kiss him amidst a chorus of wolf whistles and catcalls, which makes both Logan and I laugh again.

Then turning the attention off of us, I tell the group at large, “I brought Buddy over here for a timeout. He was attempting to seduce my mother.”

My words do the trick, the heat turns to Buddy instead who immediately starts animatedly defending his actions.

While he does so, I whisper to Logan, “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” he smiles again, “I’m having a great time. Even with Taylor telling my Japanese business partners that I miscalculated the weight bearings on the buildings that I’ve currently got under construction in Osaka,” he sighs.

I mouth drops open. “He what?”

“He said he was trying to joke with them but that they took his words too literally.”

“He was causing trouble, more like,” I mutter, saying my thoughts out loud.

Logan nods. “My patience is wearing thin. I won’t let him spoil tonight for anyone.”

“Oh, Logan, we shouldn’t be too hard on him,” I then say sarcastically, “tonight will be torture for the poor man.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to make it for him if he keeps being a dick,” Logan says seriously.

It’s clear that despite the good time Logan’s having, Taylor has already managed to dent it. Intent on putting a smile back onto his face, I ask Logan, “Can I be your henchman when you do?”

He cracks up, chuckling at the thought, his mood lightened once more. Job done, I think satisfactorily.

“Did those men from Osaka come all the way just for tonight?” I wonder.

He nods. “They take business relations very seriously,” he explains.

“So do I, Logan, but I wouldn’t fly twelve hours for a party,” I laugh. “It’s amazing that people are so responsive to you,” I muse out loud. “I think I’m going to go and mingle some more, and you know, boast about being your fi—“ I stop myself from saying fiancé, “Your girlfriend,” I amend. And that’s exactly what I do.

My first port of call is the bar — one simply cannot mingle without a drink in hand, I tell myself, and then I immerse myself into the splendour, greeting people, having people greet me, joining existing conversations, or starting up my own. It’s a busy, whirlwind of a half an hour, consisting of me trying desperately to remember which face goes with which name.

I cross paths with a lot of men and women who work at Leary Constructions, and who I have the distinct feeling know that I’m their boss’s partner. I get the sense they’re prying, harmlessly, into a side of Logan’s life that he usually keeps entirely private from them. I’m polite and courteous to everyone I meet, and in the back of my mind I cannot help thinking how much more comfortable I am to be known as Logan’s significant other than I ever was being known as Jerry’s.

After a while, I need a breather from the centre of the throng, and I find myself naturally migrating to the side of the room. Spotting Amélie, I begin to walk towards her intending on having a Buddy-free conversation. However, as I approach her I notice that the wall she’s lingering near is covered in project posters and descriptions of Logan’s work, and when I look up and down the length of the room, I notice they line the entire wall. It’s a timeline of his career.

I stop in my tracks. Suddenly speaking with Amélie seems less inviting. I turn subtly and redirect myself to the top corner of the room instead, where Logan’s prestigious timeline begins.

I take my time walking along the wall. To say that Logan started small would be wrong; it appears his initial projects were grand-scale and ambitious, and I discover that they’ve gotten even grander as time’s gone by. He is a true master of his trade, there is no doubt about it. I read every article that corresponds with the myriad of pictures, in many of which he can be seen, and I squeal in delight when I stumble across one of him as a twenty-year-old. He’s baby-faced and gorgeous, and I simply must have a copy of that photo! I take out my phone to take a picture of it, only realising after I have that the young, lanky man he’s standing next to is Buddy. It must have been taken shortly after they met, I think.

As I walk, I find several more photographs which I make copies of, ones where he looks bone tired from striving so hard to make himself a success. It paid off, I smile to myself. And ones in which he starts to look less baby-faced and more manly, closer to how he looks today.