She: Part 2 (33 page)

“Why Sunday?” I ask.

“That’s when your ring is being delivered.”

My
ring
? Oh, yes, you get one of those at a time like this, I remind myself, but it’s the furthest thing from my mind. I shake my head. “I just want you, Logan,” I tell him honestly.

“You have me, Gemima,
because
you said yes,” he says sincerely. “Yes to the lunch date, to slack-lining, to marrying me…”

“Perhaps, or perhaps you are infinitely more powerful than you realise,” I grin, putting the onus onto him.

“How?” he laughs again.

“You know what they say, baby — be careful what you wish for because you might just get it.”

“Oh, really?” he smiles alluring.

I nod, half amused, half seduced. His next sentence sways me more towards the latter.

“In that case, I’d really like another shot at what we just did,” he says, his eyes darting downwards to where we’re still joined.

It’s my turn to say, “Oh, really? You weren’t totally satisfied the with your first
shot
?”

“I was immensely satisfied,” he informs me. “But, I’m greedy for you. You
really
ought to comprehend that before you marry me,” he impresses, making me laugh. “I’m greedy to hear that high pitch in your voice, to feel your hands all over my body looking for something to hold onto, and to see your eyes rolling back in rapture as you tighten around me…”

Oh
,
Logan
!

My heart begins to race, and I can’t decide if it’s conceited of me or not, but I
love
it when he describes me with such erotic detail. He looks like there’s even more he wants to say, but I silence him with a heady kiss. It’s time to show him for the second time tonight that wishes really do come true.

* * *

I am buoyant as I ascend the steps out of the metro station on Friday morning. Logan’s unavoidable eight AM meeting means that playing hookey is not an option today, and after deciding
not
to stay home to indulge in solo celebrations, I set out early for Amber’s house. As I walk the one block from the station, my legs march furiously, trying to get me to her as fast as humanly possible, and yet I feel like they’re not even attached to me. I feel like I’m gliding, not quite in my body, not yet believing that my life is real and not fiction. Life has never been as sweet as it is this morning, I think, turning off of the sidewalk at Amber’s townhouse and walking up the wide garden path.

It occurs to me that I might be in shock. A good shock, the best shock that it’s possible to be in. I can’t fathom how I’m going to tell her without squealing, nor how I’m supposed to sit at a desk all day, when all I want to do is celebrate.

Four weeks ago the most exciting relationship in my life was the budding mentor-apprentice relationship between Amélie and I. That notion is laughable now. Logan has come hurtling into my life, creating such motion and change that I feel like I’m whirling around a giant washing machine. Though, as I climb the front steps, I think perhaps life before Logan was the washing machine, and he is the iron — straightening my life out, making everything beautiful.
Yes
,
that sounds more fitting
.

My analogy serves as a vague reminder that I have an ample pile of washing to attend to tonight, and as I shake the unwanted reminder out of my head, I bring myself back to the present and reach my hand out to press the doorbell. I don’t get there in time.

The door opens and Amber says with a mouthful of cereal, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I laugh loudly at her greeting. Only she would say something like that to someone she loves.

“I’m serious, Gem, either something is really wrong, or something is really right…”

“Well, I’m smiling, so obviously nothing is wrong,” I beam at her.

Her eyes widen dramatically. “Do I need to sit down for what you’re about to tell me?” she asks.

Seamus appears behind her. “Please forgive my incurably rude wife, and come inside,” he smiles, opening the door wide.

A minute later we’re seated around their kitchen table. They sit opposite me, side-by-side impatiently waiting to hear why I’ve made this impromptu house call. The way they look at me takes me back to a few weeks ago when they questioned me over breakfast about Logan’s and my slack lining date.
It
’
s inconceivable how much has changed since then
.

Enjoying their expressions, I decide to keep them in suspense just a
little
longer. I delve my hand into my handbag to retrieve their present. I pull it out, and slide it across the table to them. “This is for you,” I say.

Amber tears it out of the packaging at an alarmingly fast rate, and I then briefly explain its purpose.

“We’ll be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat at home?”

“I hope so,” I say, that being my intention.

They smile at each other and then at me, seeming to love the gesture.

“Though unless you’re very flexible,
you
may not be able to bend enough to use it,” I add to Amber.

“I’m very bendy, thank you very much,” she winks. “You should have seen the position that I was in on the night I suspect we conceived he-she.”

Firstly,
that
’
s TMI
, I think. And secondly,
he-she
?

Seamus exclaims, “
Stop
calling our baby that!”

She shakes her head at him, their squabble making me grin. I then dive my hand into my handbag once more to pull out the photographs of our impending puppy.

“The next thing I have to tell you,” I say, putting the photos facedown on the table and dramatically sliding them across to Seamus and Amber, “is that Logan and I will kind of, sort of beat you to parenthood.”

Amber gasps, her grabby hands reaching for the photos. “Is it a sonogram?” she exclaims, ever hopeful.

“No,” I laugh, finally letting the pictures go so that she can look at them.

“
Oh my god
!” Amber squeals, just like me.

“That is ridiculously cute,” Seamus says, looking over Amber’s shoulder as she hastily flicks through the images.

“
So
cute!” Amber effuses.

“It’s a
he
, and I think we’ll be getting him in a few weeks,” I tell them, smiling eagerly. “Mercy, Logan’s housekeeper, got him for Logan’s birthday.”

“When was his birthday?” Seamus asks.

“Yesterday,” I say.

“How old is he?” Amber pries.

“Thirty-five,” I tell her.

“
That
old?” she asks with wide eyes.

I roll my eyes.

“Eight years is a lot, Gem,” she tells me.

“It’s only seven and a half, and I can handle an older man,” I grin.

“I bet you can,” she laughs. Her attention is stolen once more by the puppy pictures. “Ooh, I want one,” Amber says immediately, looking at her husband imploringly.

He shakes his head. “Baby first,” he says, “then a dog.”

“My puppy and your he-she can be friends,” I tell Amber,
almost
giving her what she asked me for on Monday, and she smiles back, nodding vehemently.

“Don’t
you
start calling the baby that too,
please
!” Seamus says, making me laugh.

“It’s cute,” Amber tries to convince him.

“No, it sounds like a hermaphrodite, which I
highly
doubt our baby will turn out to be.”

“Well,
I
think it’s cute,” she continues, “and darling,” she claps her hand onto Seamus’s leg, “you only have to put up with it for another eight months.”

“You’re not finding out the sex of the baby?” I ask, shocked. I was sure they’d want to know, but both of them shake their heads.“That’s very restrained of you to wait until the birth. Do you mind if
I
find out?” I ask cheekily, trying my luck.

“Are
you
going to find out what
you
’
re
having?” she asks me. “I assume that’s why you’ve come to see us this morning.”

I grin at her presumptuous nature. She certainly doesn’t give up easily. “I’m not pregnant, Amber. I confess I hoped the puppy would appease you,” I say.

“The puppy is an excellent start, but I know you, Gem, and you didn’t come over to tell me about a dog.”

“No,” I agree, then I blurt out, “I came over to tell you that Logan proposed last night.”

I realise too late that I should have had a camera on Amber to film her reaction. She screams, then claps her hands to her mouth looking at me with huge eyes, before slowly lowering her hands, allowing me to see her trembling bottom lip. She’s managed to capture a
huge
range of emotions within the space of only five seconds!

I laugh heartily, abruptly feeling grateful not only to have such joyous news to share, but also to have such wonderful friends to share it with.

“Don’t jump the gun, Amber,” Seamus tells her, levelheadedly. “First we need to know: did you say yes?” he asks me.

Before I can respond, Amber shrieks, “Of
course
she said yes!”

But Seamus waits for my confirmation. It’s with huge satisfaction that I nod, “I said yes.” Over and over again, I recall happily.

Seamus cheers loudly and stands to give me a congratulatory hug. I get to my feet to embrace him and as soon as we break apart Amber is on me, hugging me more tightly than she’s ever done before.

“I’m so happy for you, Gem,” she cries, her body shaking.

“Will you be my maid of honour?” I say quickly, asking her to perform the role that I performed at her wedding.

“Yes! Oh my god,
yes
,” she says, squeezing me.

Over her shoulder, I grin at Seamus. “You can be a bridesmaid if you want,” I offer him giddily.

“
Hmm
, let me think about that,” he says sarcastically, making me laugh, as he starts brewing us coffee. “Thanks, but no thanks, Gem. But I do second her notion — I’m very happy for you both as well. Even if it is incredibly soon,” he adds.

Amber gives him a scolding look.

“I know it’s fast,” I nod, unaffected by his comment. I then shrug, saying to Seamus, “I love him, he loves me. Why wait?”

“I think it’s a fabulous idea,” Amber tells me, and I know that at least half of her reasoning is due to the amount of shopping we’ll be doing in the coming months.

“It
is
a great idea,” Seamus agrees, “but it’ll still be a great idea in six months time.”

“What are you, her mom?” Amber asks her husband. “Oh my god, have you told your mom yet? She’s going to hit the roof!”

No
,
she
’
s not
, I coo to myself. “Not yet. You and Logan’s best friend are the only ones to know for now,” I tell them pointedly, and they both nod their understanding. “And Seamus, I understand your concern, I just…”

“Don’t agree with it?” Amber pipes up, grinning.

I shake my head. “It’s not that. We could wait six months, or longer, I just
really
don’t want to. My impatience would win out, I know it would,” I laugh. “I want to be Logan’s wife as soon as I possibly can,” I say, unable to keep the enormous smile from my face as I say the words
Logan
’
s wife
.

Amber squeals again, looking as ecstatic as I feel.

Laughing at the pair of us, Seamus concedes, “It couldn’t be more obvious that this is what to you want.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “No more questions from me,” he promises. “Congrats, Gem,” he smiles, handing me my coffee. “Logan is a really great guy, and I’m sure you’ll be happy together.”

“
So
happy,” Amber beams.

“He, uh, asked me after I did our dance for him,” I confess to Amber. “You know,
the
dance?”

“You’re shitting me?”

“Nope,” I giggle.

“What dance?” Seamus asks.

“Our dance to The Best by Tina Turner,” Amber reminds him.

He cracks up, evidently having seen it too. “Logan proposed after seeing
that
? I nearly divorced Amber when I saw it,” he jokes.

“It’s awesome!” she and I wail together, making him laugh.

I stay for a further ten minutes, enjoying a delicious cup of coffee, over which Amber tries to convince Seamus of the merit of our dance, and then it’s time to leave. Work beckons. Or perhaps calling it sitting-at-my-cubicle-and-thinking-about-Logan-all-day would be a more accurate description of what lies ahead for me.

Gathered around the doorway once more, I ask Amber and Seamus, “Are you free tomorrow night?”

Amber shakes her head. “We’re going on a double date with Patrick and Layla,” she informs me.

Oh
! “That sounds fun.”

“I would’ve asked you and your
fiancé
to join us,” she grins excitedly, “but I thought you had Logan’s business thingy on?”

“I do, and he said this morning that I should invite you too.”

“
Damn
, that would’ve been swanky,” she says, amusing me. “We
definitely
have to celebrate soon,” she tells me. “I’ll be good to drink again in approximately thirty-six weeks.”

“Longer with the breastfeeding,” Seamus reminds her.

“Oh, yeah…” she says, calculating a new length.

I love hearing them talk like this. I love that it’s their new normal. It’s something they’ve both wanted for years, and to be able to watch their entire journey from their very first dates to their first child, is just
so
cool!

“I love our little he-she already, but my social life is going to take a massive hit,” she says, as if this is only becoming apparent to her now.

Seamus rolls his eyes at her use of
he-she
. “This is what you’re in for when you get married,” he tells me. “Being simultaneously in love and irritated at all times.”

Amber grins at him. “Yeah,” she agrees, teasing, “you’ll soon seep into the aftermath of the honeymoon phase.”

“No romance,” Seamus says.

“No sex,” Amber adds.

“Oh, really? It’s all downhill from here?” I ask sarcastically.

They nod, smiling.

“And yet, you’re pregnant, so there must be
some
sex,” I point out. “And based on your earlier over-sharing about
how
your baby was conceived, you’re still into some interesting positions,” I laugh. So, it can’t be that bad.