She (28 page)

I walk quietly towards him, throwing a quick glance at the huge television which is on, but muted. I hover over him, checking to see if he’s really asleep; he is. There’s a minute unoccupied space of sofa above his head, and I gently lower myself into it. Then I pick up his weighty head and slide under it, my legs acting as his pillow. For a few minutes I watch him sleep, noticing his fluttering eyelids, and wondering what he is dreaming about. Very lightly, cautious not to wake him, I run my hand over his cheek and through his hair. I bend down to kiss his lips, which remain motionless under mine. I smile, he’s usually much more responsive! I kiss him again, finding it oddly enjoyable that he has no idea what I’m doing to him. The thought of that takes me back to elementary school sleepovers when the sleeping person’s hand was dunked in warm water to encourage them to wet themselves. This is not as mean as that, I tell myself. This is, in fact, very nice! A few more minutes pass before I carefully pull my phone out of pocket to distract myself, leaving Logan to rest undisturbed.

I decide to email my mom in Brazil; checking in to see how her holiday is faring.

From: Gemima Samuels

To: Barbara-Anne Samuels

Subject: Hello

Date: February 25th, 2014 19.03

Hi Mom,

Just a quick email to see how Brazil is treating you? Hot nights? Hot men? That kind of thing?

All is good here. Logan had his operation yesterday (I can’t remember if I told you about that or not?) but he’s fine, recovering well thus far. I’m just watching him sleep at the moment. He’s beautiful! I can’t wait for you to meet him, I know you’ll love him! I do!

Plus (just to bribe you into liking him already) his mom is a fan of your salon. She has her hair done every time she visits from the US. Logan’s American too. He’s a nice American,
not
a “Jerry” American.

We’ll organise a dinner or something once you’re back. Enjoy the rest of your trip!

I love you lots,

Gem. Xx

I hit send and watch the little loading thing that shoots my email off into cyberspace. Then I pull up my internet explorer and type in the words that Logan uttered to me last night that I thought were song lyrics. Less than a second later I find that I was right: they
are
. Grinning, I download the song that they are from, fully intending on playing it to Logan once he’s awake to see if he remembers his recitation.

Then I visit my favourite online wholesale garden supply shop, whose premises is located in outer-Paris. This website is my Achilles heel! I spent a small fortune on here two years ago, when I revamped Amber and Seamus’ garden as a wedding present, and tonight I plan on doing the same.

I scroll through the countless selections, knowing exactly which plants, trees, flowers, pots, planters, and grasses I’m looking for. The ‘
add to cart
’ button is my friend; I press it over and over and over again. Then, when I have every item that I can recall from my sketch, I book in two labourers and a project manager. Yes, I can order
people
! This is my favourite feature of the site, manual labour to help me physically create the oasis that I sketched. I set a delivery time of one PM next Wednesday, and an appointment with my hired help for the same time, and I just hope that Logan isn’t planning a midday shindig!

The entire cost gets tallied up. It’s north of five hundred euros; steep, but worth it. Logan is going to
love
this surprise! When all of my details are entered, I press
order
and a huge, excited smile spreads across my face. This is going to be
so
fun!

Done with the internet, I put my phone down and stare ahead of me at the big flatscreen. An old rerun of
LOST
has come on; one in which the main character, a surgeon, is operating on his patient drunk! I glance sidelong at Logan’s abdomen, my dramatic side springing to life. Suspicion fills me.

Hmm,
it’s unlikely
…

I mean,
what are the odds
?…

But,
what if
?…

No!
Snap out of it
,
Gem
,
the notion is ludicrous
! I push my wholly unrealistic thoughts from my mind; I’m just bored. I look around for the television remote and spot it on the coffee table, but I can’t get to it without getting off of the sofa.

“Looking for something?” Logan asks me, making me start.

I stare down at him and he smiles back, tickled that he made me jump.

“How long have you been watching me?” I ask, stroking his face once more.

“A while,” he says, still smiling. “What were you doing on your phone? Something made you smile,” he noticed.

“Yes,” I grin, “I was organising your birthday present.” I lean down and kiss his lips, noting that this time his lips respond, kissing me back. It turns swiftly from a peck on the lips into a passionate, heady, tongues-thrusting-against-one-another kiss. Oh, it feels so good to kiss Logan again! Thirty-six hours without this is too long! Logan raises his arms and cups my face with his hands, holding it to his. He doesn’t want it to end either, I note happily.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, when we eventually come up for air.

I rub my nose against his, closing my eyes and savouring the touch of his skin against mine. “I’ve missed you too, mon cheri. How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Mostly fine. My shoulders were burning earlier, and I’m still a little sore, but the worst has passed. However, I do feel
very
fat,” he says with a smile.

I look down at his stomach and then reach for the hem of his teeshirt, and pull it up so that I can see what lies beneath.

“If you want me naked you just have to ask,” he says, grinning cheekily.

I laugh and say, “You misunderstand my intention.”

Under his shirt there are three white bandages, one over his naval and two on his upper abdomen.

“They can come off tomorrow,” he tells me.

I nod. “What time did you get home?”

“Just before lunch. Buddy arrived just after we did.” He laughs, “He spent most of his time here flirting with Mercy!”

“He didn’t!” I exclaim.

Logan nods. “Buddy flirts with any female, no matter her age. But you were right, he did want to know what those nonsensical messages I sent yesterday meant.”

I smile. “And?”

“I have absolutely no idea!” he says.

I grab my phone and quickly pull up the last one he sent me. “So, you don’t know what:
Serve to to thermo to to high more chance?
means?” I ask, with a laugh.

“It sounds like a question of sorts, but I’ve not a clue what! Yesterday is a blur in my memory, but thank you for coming to see me.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, kissing him again. “What did you do this morning before Mercy picked you up? You said that you were up super early…”

“I went for a walk in the garden,” he tells me.

Immediately I start giggling, a comic image coming to my mind. “I can just see you wandering across the green lawn in your blue, backless nightgown, your ass on display, and a string of nurses lining the windows watching you as you go!”

Logan laughs too, before correcting my mental image. “Actually, I was dressed.”

“Much to their disappointment, I’m sure,” I grin.

“I don’t quite understand your captivation with my backside,” Logan laughs again.

“
Trust
me, Logan, if you saw what I saw in that mirror the other night, you would understand!”

He smiles at me, and changes the subject. “How was your day?”

“Very good, indeed,” I say, remembering, “Amelie was very complimentary. She said that if she ever leaves Pierson House, she’d do so knowing it was in safe hands.”

“Wow,” Logan looks impressed. “Gemima, that’s amazing! You do know she’s notoriously difficult to please, right?”

“Yes, but,” I shrug, “she likes me; you said so yourself.” I grin, excitedly.

Logan smiles at my giddiness. “That’s brilliant, baby. And how was it yesterday acting as their middle man?”

I roll my eyes. “In a word? Ridiculous! I was
so
uncomfortable! They both kept making jabs at one another, making out like it’s a work-related issue they have, not having a clue that I know the real reason!” I tell him. “Things ended badly between them, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. “Very,” he hastens to add. “Amelie’s husband found out. He and some of his friends followed Buddy home one night and beat him to a pulp outside of his apartment. I’ve never seen a body so black and blue before. He was in hospital for days. When Amelie found out, she didn’t come to see him, she didn’t defend Buddy, which he found beneath her. She did nothing. He could never quite look at her the same way after that. And so it was over. Buddy moved on, and Amelie is still with her husband. Neither of them likes working with the other anymore.”

“It’s kind of a shame it ended so acrimoniously,” I think.

“Yeah, it is. Buddy was pretty devastated, in his own way.” Logan sighs, before his attention is deviated by a flashing light on the television. “Is this LOST?” he asks.

“Yes. It’s the episode where Jack does a surgery blind drunk.”

“Let me guess,” Logan grins, “you started thinking—”

“
Only
for half a minute,” I assure him.

He laughs. “My surgeon wasn’t drunk. She was very competent.”

“She?” I ask in surprise. Then I chide myself for being sexist.
Girl power
,
Gem
.

“Yes,
she
,” Logan says.

“And what did she say about your special assignment?” I enquire, grinning.

“Ah…well,
unfortunately
, I was unable to complete my mission,” he admits.

“Tut tut. I guess that’s one to me, zero to you…” I say, leaving him wanting more.

“Tell me everything,” he requests immediately.

I shake my head.

He grips my face in his hands and pulls my head down to his. “Tell me,” he breathes against my lips. “What did you do?”

“I did as you asked.”

He smiles. “And how was it?” he asks, his voice filled with a need to know.

“Excellent. I should do it more often.”

His smile broadens. “Yes, you should. And let me watch,” he adds. “Did you think of me?”

“Of course,” I say, kissing his lips gently.

“Did you come?”
“Uh-huh,” I say, my mouth open against his. I kiss him hard, suddenly in the mood.
Slow down
, I tell myself, reigning in my passion. Logan needs a few days, just a few, to recoup. He doesn’t need me jumping his bones and popping his stitches! But I have to laugh at myself, as my brain takes this apt moment to start playing Marvin Gaye’s
Sexual Healing
in my mind. Despite my internal soundtrack, I pull out of our rousing kiss, and put our minds onto something else.

“Dinner’s ready whenever you’re hungry,” I say.

I can see from the way he looks at me that Logan knows what I’m doing, but he lets me. “OK,” he says. “Just let me lie here a little longer, though.”

I nod and relax into the comfort of the sofa.

“Have you been into the dressing room?” he asks unexpectedly.

“No, why?”

He grins. “I’ve a surprise in there for you. I sent Mercy out to buy you something.”

Ah-ha! “Yes, she said so. She left here in a very good mood.”

“So you’ve met?”

I nod again. “She’s lovely. And she cares about you, which I like.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” Logan agrees. “You wouldn’t believe her face when I told her which shops I wanted her to go to.”

I narrow my eyes. “You didn’t send her to sex shops, did you?” I blurt out.

Logan laughs out loud. “No! Nothing of the sort. I’m talking high-end fashion houses, Gemima,” he says, teasing me.

Ooh
! “What did you buy me, then?” I smile.

“Appropriate attire.”

“For?”

“Something I’d like to do this coming weekend, but my whole plan rests on you being free.”

“I am free this weekend,” I tell him eagerly.

“Good. Then we’re going away,” he says happily.

Immediately I think of places we’ve mentioned to one another in the past two weeks: Marseille… Versailles…

“You’ll get your attire on Friday night,” he reveals.

I smile. “May I have a clue?”

“Sure,” he grins. “There is something in this room that is indicative of where we’re going.”

I roll my eyes playfully and he chuckles; this room is full of weird and wonderful trinkets. Any one of them could be
the
one! Before I even begin, I give up.

“I’ll just wait until Friday,” I say.

“Wise choice. Also, I was thinking that I’d like to take you somewhere special on Thursday night after the work party we’re going to.”

“OK. Where?” I ask.

To my surprise, he tells me, “To the first hotel I ever built.”

Excitement erupts within me. “The boutique one? The one that’s a girl?” I ask, remembering Logan’s habit of giving his hotels a gender.

“The very same,” he says.

“Logan, I’d love to go there!” I exclaim. I’m thrilled that he wants to show me his first hotel!

“Perfect. I’ll book us a room.”

“Do I get a special discount?” I joke. “You know, mates-rates?”

“Needless-to-say, I’ll take care of it.”

I grin. “OK. Well, while we’re talking about things that the other person is not allowed to know, I have to request that you be out of this apartment Wednesday afternoon next week between one and five PM, so that I might complete your birthday present.”