The only thing that can be heard in the conference room is the clicking of pens, as a dozen executives are deciding Logan's future. Getting this job would skyrocket his career, as the Sel, a Seoul based architectural firm is what any industrial designer like him wants in their CV. 

 

He ends his presentation, inhaling slowly to calm down his raging nerves before the barrage of questions hits him. He needs this job. 

 

Only problem is, he doesn’t want it. 

 

His CEO father -and chairwoman grandmother- would be ashamed. All the money and connections and established New York job and he’s squandering his opportunities. It would be the first big project under his name and not his family’s. He has to secure a four month contract to oversee the art distribution business.

 

The assembly looks at him expectantly as he’s fighting the urge to throw the pointer away and get on the next flight to New York, promotion be damned. 

 

He’s not acing this interview, the brunette in the tan suit with ruffles circling her neck stares outside the window. 

 

Great. 

 

“I have another proposition for the construction site”, the words are out of his mouth before he knows it. If he’s about to go down, better leave them a parting gift. “The space could be transformed into an art center for underprivileged kids, with exhibition sites, administrative offices and affordable housing”. He gets more passionate as he explains his vision, and more antsy as firms rarely risk betting on welfare projects. 

 

But that gets her attention. 

 

Sitting on the furthest side of the table, she scribbles something on her pad furiously, a fringe obstructing his view of her eyes. It could be notes on him, or a sketch. It could be her grocery list for all he knows-

 

She nods to the other men, and sits up, leaving the room. 

 

His stomach drops. 

 

“You’re hired, Mr Lee”, the general manager proclaims. “Welcome aboard”. 

 

Damn. Only four months, he can hold on this long. 

 

He catches a glimpse of the woman's silhouette walking away. 

 

Four months. 

 

—

 

Day 2 

 

Back in the US, he’s the heir of the family conglomerate. Americans frown on nepotism, when he succeeded people attributed it to his family’s power, and when he failed, he did despite it. The only way to achieve his dream of being Head Architect is this partnership with this prestigious Korean firm, that will give him the momentum to expand to global markets. 

 

He can’t walk all the way to the Art Department his team is working with, without people stopping him to introduce themselves and rave about the project. He takes the time to chat with everyone, from higher-ups to assistants -his father stressing how he must be cordial but not too approachable. A litany of names and polished faces demanding his time, asking for drinks and after-work hangs. He politely declines every time, dropping on the cream marble floor the moment he enters his hotel suite. It’s cold and hard. 

 

—

 

Day 4

 

The button lights up, but no coffee drips from the machine to his waiting cup. The break room is equipped with a coffee maker so fancy, it could be plucked right off a hipster, brick-walls-and-light-bulbs-hanging-over-the-table coffee shop like the many that have sprung up in Seoul since his last visit. In clear opposition to its name, it doesn’t make coffee. 

 

This is why people pay assistants , he thinks as he presses another button with a drop symbol in what hopes to be the magic click. Nothing. 

 

“Why is this so needlessly convoluted?” he growls and bumps the line of keys indiscriminately with too much force for someone who hasn’t had their coffee yet. 

 

“To torture newcomers”. 

 

His head flinches back to the voice. He’s seen her a few times in passing but never for long, with her reputation of being talented, unique and just out of reach, she glides from room to room shrouded in mystery. 

 

“How long have you been standing there?” 

 

He takes her in, her eyes sparkling in mirth in a way that doesn’t scream 11 am coffee break, more like an elvish queen, straight out of the Tolkien books he used to steal from his brother. 

 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your descent into decaffeinated madness”. 

 

He chuckles, his mood lifted instantly. 

 

“Are you not entertained?” he exclaims, opening his arms like a roman emperor. “If you’re satisfied with my torture, could you help?”

 

She approaches to stand next to him, a whiff of citrus following her. He resists the urge to lean in. 

 

“This is going to get more embarrassing for you”, she warns. 

 

She slides the cup a tiny bit left then the surface lights up and warm brown liquid fills it in a swift and satisfying motion. 

 

He purses his lips, surprised that he’s not as flustered as he’d expect -given the awkwardness of the situation. It’s the first time he’s not composed at work, and it’s freeing. He takes her in, her clothes flashing hues of beige accentuated by gold jewelry, as she presents the cup with a flourish. 

 

“You saved me”. 

 

“Don’t you forget it” and she promptly reaches out to take the freshly made coffee, before strutting away. He smiles, unfathomably charmed when she turns back to say “Caramel, just how I like it”. 

Day 5

He tugs his tie impatiently, counting the seconds he leaves for the day. He stayed late to finish the building model, and now he gets to hand it in personally. 

He weaves through empty corridors bathed in dimmed lights until he reaches her office. 

He asks permission from the receptionist, even if he can see Shim Su Ryeon on her desk through the glass door. “Always talk to the receptionist” was his father’s motto when he’d parade him through the company to mold him in his image. Only the old man said flirt, not talk, and Logan didn’t want to be that guy. 

The girl, Ahn Na hides a yawn expertly, a permanent pleasant expression affixed as she gives him the go-ahead after a light chat. 

He knocks lightly. Her office is fitting to an art director. One wall is charcoal, two impressionistic paintings popping off the dark background, the other is full of clip-ins for current projects, photographs, notes, inspiration. between them sits a desk with a drawing panel, and its current occupant lifting her head from the screen to him. 

“I got the final sketch, we can go to print first thing tomorrow”. He hands her the envelope, it’s the same copper brown as her wrap dress.

She inspects it for a silent minute and nods to herself in approval. “Very well.” He stands taller at her praise. “You didn’t have to give this to me personally”. 

“It’s late, I sent my assistant home”. The wall behind her is all glass, the lights of the city chiming in. She is bathed in starlight, as one who’s read a lot of Keats would say. Not Logan though, that would be inappropriate. “Are you heading out?”

“In a minute”. On her desk sits a row of photographs of herself along with a woman and a girl, he can’t see details without invading her privacy. There are a lot of personal touches on her work space, sketches littering the desk, cups of coffee with a rose gold handle, a planner with pink stickers and pens, and a takeout menu peeking from inside a drawer. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow for the approved design, then. Have a good night”. 

“Goodnight”, she smiles at him behind the white pen and he turns to leave. At the last second, he swivels. 

“Do you by chance know any good noodle restaurants around here?”

She pauses, clicks on something in her computer and turns to him. 

“Luosifen. It has the best salted noodles, my niece the plate”. 

Niece, as in the girl in the photos. 

“Really”. 

“You should order the sesame rolls with cashew sauce, it’s divine”. 

There's something in there that pushes him to ask, out of the blue. 

“Would you join me?” 

She falls into a calculative silence, and before he scares her, he plays it off. 

“Don’t let the poor new guy eat alone”. 

–

“What happened to your tie?”

She noticed, he smirks, twirling decadent creamy noodles to absorb the sauce. Then again, her position of art director and her delectable style suggest a keen eye for detail. 

And beautiful, warm eyes. 

“The tie is off. It means I'm off work”. 

She arranges the wine glasses to the side so she can look at him directly. 

“Is it like a ritual for the incurable workaholics?”

He laughs, meeting her eyes. The cozy restaurant isn’t high end, a friendly warm glow surrounds them, the dim light and soft music creating the illusion they’re the only people there. For that, he confesses. 

“I used to see my dad working all day. When he had the tie on, he wasn’t my dad, he was the CEO. Even at home, as long as that damn tie was around his neck, he still took business calls or locked himself in the home office. Then he’d yanked the tie out and he’d play with us and kiss my mom on the cheek. A whole different person”. 

She studies him. He belatedly wonders if this attitude about work doesn’t bode well for him. He wants to make friends, not alienate the only person at the office he’s curious about. 

“Do you want to be a different person from the one at work?” 

“No. But I have to.” He takes a sip of wine and decides to go for it. “For the people at the company, I’m the overprivileged transplant that parachuted on top of them. After working hours, I can pretend to have a personal life”. 

His father would have scoffed at his admittance. ‘Put your best foot forward with women, never let them see you sweat’, another one of his father’s lessons floated in his mind. Tired of presenting a perfect image all day -and the fact that he’s already made a fool of himself in her presence-, he discards it completely. Let her see him sweat . The voice sounds suspiciously like his mother. 

“What does your imaginary personal life entail?”

“Hmm. Seeing friends, having delicious dinner”. 

“You’re already halfway then” she clicks her glass to his and he takes the judgment-free encouragement. She sombers, a realization hitting her. “You have no friends here”. 

“Hey! Don’t make me sound like such a loser”. 

“Not a loser, just the new guy who’s not sticking around for long anyway”. 

This is temporary. Even if he fails here, New York will be waiting for him. 

“That doesn’t mean I want to eat alone for four months”. 

“Then start now”.

“Can we be friends, Ms Shim Su Ryeon?”

Phrased like an eight-year-old, he winces. But she contemplates it. 

“Why me?”

“You could have kicked me off the project and worked with the people you already trust. You took a chance on me. Take another”.

She plays with the chain of her bracelet, a thin gold piece that sits on her slender wrist. 

“The neighborhood for orphans you proposed, it's like you read my mind. it’s what I want to do, why I got the degree in Art and Design, I want to use art to make their lives better”. 

“Were you…?”

“No” she doesn’t elaborate, but keeps eye contact. It’s easy sitting here, he muses. She doesn’t take off a tie, but out of work she’s all her energy and brightness goes directly to him. He basks at it. 

“Is it hard as a foreigner for people to trust you?”

“It's not that. I had friends in New York. Then I got” he makes air quotes “promoted, and worked all day while everyone else moved on”. He didn’t have time to hang around, forgot to call and suddenly he hadn’t seen his pals for months. To prove to everyone -and to himself- he deserved the higher post, he took on more projects, stayed up late and went for drinks to satisfy the clients, getting up early to repeat it all again. Other people had milestones but for him it was all an endless work day. “A chunk of my life passed before my eyes, while I was sitting on a desk, wearing a tie”. 

“I know how it feels”. He waits, it’s at her discretion to explain. “I had a group of college friends whom I stupidly abandoned a few years after, when I got married.”

Married? He has scanned for a ring -out of habit, he tells himself- and found nothing on that finger. Is she going home to someone after this? 

“Society dictates I associate with other dignified married women of the same class. So I did. I was living my own, poorly written makjang, where we’d only see each other to brag about our husband’s jobs and compare status symbols. You’ll never hear anyone talk about chandeliers to that extent.” she laughs, but there’s a bitter edge. “When I divorced him, all those people just disappeared. Before the ink dried, they’re gone. They didn’t have to explain, our friendship was conditional on status”. 

“If you’re not how they want, they’ll turn their backs”. 

“Unfortunately”, she sighs. “I was fine with that for some time -I wasn’t fine but I took it as punishment for pushing my college friends away. After a while I met Yoon Hee and her daughter Rona, and they showed me that love isn’t contingent on where you are in life. You move and love moves with you”. 

What a way to put it, Logan thinks. If you love someone you stay. 

The meal ends too early for his liking, even if he got dessert and coffee just to talk to her a little longer. Like a song you get into the more it plays and you’re dreading the sound of the last chords. 

“Thank you for the company” he infuses all the meaning. Her simply being there eases some of the heaviness in his chest. 

“Thank you for not wearing a tie with me”. 

–

Su Ryeon plans to leave the next day, an oversized bag packed with sketches in various stages of completion, tasks checked off the list with purple highlighter when Logan peeks in her office. 

Three words. 

“How about Italian?”. 

And thus it begins, without ceremony or preamble. The work day ends, dragging the last poor souls into overstaffed trains and bouncy buses and Logan swings by her office waiting for her to gather her things and they go to dinner.

It becomes their unspoken tradition. 

–

When they sit down to eat, usually not a moment passes before they launch on news of the day, finally having someone to share thoughts with. Except today, that is. Something is blocking Logan’s thoughts and he just keeps staring at her. 

His eyes fall on her Tiffany cuff. It’s too big and ornate for her small wrist. He is angry at it. 

“So, who’s the guy?” 

“Why would you assume it’s from a guy?”, she counters, taking a sip from her glass. “I can buy my own jewelry” she wiggles her fingers full of rings. 

“You didn’t buy this one though”. 

She tilts her head. 

“How can you tell?”

“It's silver, which you don’t wear. And it doesn’t match your style, too flashy. So it’s a man who wants to impress you with big jewelry and who doesn't consider what you actually like.”

“You can tell all that by just looking at it”

“By looking at you”. 

She clears . 

“My ex husband”. 

He lifts his palms as if to say “there you go”. Though the gesture lacks the lightness he intended. 

“Impressive deduction skills”. 

Her praise warms something in him and he can’t blame the wine. He could bask on it, or change the subject to something that wouldn’t remind her other men. Struggling with himself, he drops the bomb. 

“He wants you back”. 

“What?”

“It's Tiffany's 2023 collection. It’s not from the time you were married, he got that right before he saw you, I’m guessing last weekend. It’s not a ring, it would be too forward and would scare you off, but he still wants you to see it all the time on your wrist and think of him.”

She rests her chin on her hand, studying him. 

“Was I close?”

She blinks but doesn’t answer, pushing the sushi pieces across her plate. Times like these, when the conversation is on her, he’s reminded that she’s still holding back pieces of herself, even if they talk every day. Maybe four months won't be enough to peel back all her layers. 

“He made a proposal”, she interrupts his musing. 

Even if he suspected as much, something vicious at his insides. 

“Marriage?”

“Eventually”. 

The stuffy air of the restaurant pushes down his lungs. His palms start to sweat and he fists the napkin. 

He's always been observant of people -his father taught him to study who he’s going to business with closely- but suddenly he hates that skill. Half of him wishes he hadn’t asked, they’re friends, but the other half digs deeper. 

“You’re wearing the cuff, does this mean you accepted?”

“What do you think?”

No matter how secure a man is, his wife wouldn’t be having dinner with another man every night. He doesn’t want to lose these evenings with her. Maybe that’s a selfish reason, for a selfish man. 

“If you can’t answer this, you shouldn’t have brought the whole thing up” she corners him. “Even if your… Sherlock thing was charming”. 

“Do you find me charming?”

“Forget what I said about your deduction skills”, she teases but there’s a tinge in her voice.  “Speak your mind, please”. 

“In Spanish, esposa means wife. It also means” he takes her hand and circles his fingers around her wrist, “handcuff”. 

Even as he says it, it’s a half truth. Being married to the wrong person can be a prison, but being with the right one… what does he know.  

“He wants me locked up in his palace again”. A storm breeds behind her eyes. “I fought hard to get out. There’s not enough gold in the world to get me back there.” She finally smiles, like a rainbow after the storm. “He can try though”. 

When he opens her car door, she turns around. 

“Since you’re such an expert on women’s jewelry, what would you buy?”

“For you?”

In her words, there’s not enough gold in the world. 

—

The clock ticks, Logan should be knocking on her door at any moment. having a meal with Logan after a hard day is like releasing the ache from her feet, relaxing and pleasant. She sees Yoon Hee and Rona on the weekends, and sometimes she goes on blind dates. Though she hasn’t been to one lately. It’s hard to find someone both interesting and interested. 

The hands of the clock roll to 6, glide to 7, roll to 8, but there’s no knock and she is hungry. She usually has a big breakfast at home, light lunch in the office cafeteria and dinner with a particular new friend. One she now has to chase down. 

Descending to his floor, everything is dark except the corner office. Logan is locked on a screen, typing maniacally as the 3D printer beeps every few seconds, producing polymer parts that look like buildings, benches, trees. On the table -that’s usually kept neat as a hotel room- towers a half-finished maquette. 

He doesn’t notice her presence until she’s standing right in front of him. 

“Su Ryeon ssi” he looks around confused, “what time is it?” and scrambles “I missed dinner? I’m sorry, I have to finish this and time flew-”

“What about your team?”

“I sent them home, it was my miscalculation that delayed all this. Now I have to make the pieces again and log on the details for the digital model”. He runs a hand through his hair, blonde strands escaping. It's the messiest she’s ever seen him -jacket thrown to a chair, rolled up shirt sleeves, files and paper scraps littering his work surface. Tie caught on his shirt. 

Su Ryeon doesn’t associate much with fellow executives, most are stuffy and proper all the time and opt out of the unglamorous parts of the job. That's what she likes about Logan. For all his great ideas, he follows through with work. He could abuse the privilege of his position, and overwork his subordinates, but instead he bears the brunt of the workload. His name doesn't afford him arrogance, only responsibility. 

She picks up a broken piece and inspects it. The decision is easy. 

“Alright, if we work fast, you may be able to sleep a little tonight”. She drops her stuff on the only empty chair and gets the glue. He looks at her baffled. 

“We?” he rolls his chair to her side “No, you go home. I can’t make it for dinner, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow” he goes to take the piece but she pulls it off his reach. 

“I was making maquettes for a decade, and you need help”. 

“Still, it’s late, you don’t have to stay with me”. 

“But I will”, she eyes the plastic components, “now focus on the measurements and I'll do the model”. 

They work side by side quietly, both concentrating on their tasks in a way that doesn’t leave room for regular conversation. He checks her handiwork occasionally, nodding and asking. The Chinese takeout she ordered arrives and they inhale it sprawled out on the floor, every other surface covered in papers. 

“And you brought me food” he smiles a tired smile, closing his eyes. There’s a blush on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it’s the lights. 

“No it’s all for me” she squats his hand away and they both laugh. 

“Besides having no life, and no regard for my empty stomach” she teases, “why are you really here?”

He stabs a dumpling with the chopsticks, and sighs. 

“I want to prove myself to the company, so they know I'm not just the son of someone”. 

“Is there something waiting for you when you go back?”

“If I succeed here, a promotion. Head Architect”.

“In three months you’ll find out”. They will both find out. 

“Time flies. I can’t believe I’ll go back”

“Don’t you want to?”

He looks at her, really looks. She pauses her chopsticks on the way to . 

“It's my dream job. I should want to”. 

“Anything keeping you here?”

He’s silent for so long, she thinks he won’t answer. And they call her mysterious. 

“Yes” he nods. “The food”. 

Out of nowhere a splash of disappointment hits her gut. 

–

She doesn’t know how it happens, but she feels something nudging her out of sleep. Something is covering her on the sofa and a voice rouses her. 

“Come on, let’s get you home” Logan's soft tone as his hand cups her shoulder. She didn’t intend to fall asleep, but she finished the model while Logan was still on the computer. 

“Are we done?” 

He nods and takes her hand, helping her to stand, his coat dropping off her shoulders. 

It must be the middle of the night, he let her sleep a lot judging from the fogg in her head. Her joints ache pleasantly, as she spreads her arms over her head in a very satisfying stretch. 

“Work is finished”

“Then this has to go” and before her sleep drugged mind stops her, she grabs his tie and pulls him in. She struggles to loosen it with uncoordinated hands but- he’s suddenly so close. So close his chin touches her nose and she can smell his cologne. He looks down and-

Damn. 

For a moment time is suspended and she holds him. He looks frozen. His exhale is measured, and she feels it in every part of her body. A spark zaps from where she’s touching his chest to her bare feet, planted in the carpet. Her bangs fall on her eyes and she can’t see his expression and moving is a risk, the spell keeping her still. 

He covers her hand with his and… gently removes it from his collar. They’re silent all the way to the cars. 

–

She goes up to leave for the day, but hushed voices stop her at the office door. 

“Is office romance allowed here?” It's Logan. 

Her secretary snickers but leans in. 

“Are you pursuing someone here?”

Su Ryeon holds her breath. 

“Maybe”, he answers conspiratorially. 

A flare of excitement rises to . 

He continues. “If I wanted to pursue you, what are the rules?”

Her secretary snickers. 

She freezes. For once she hoped- nothing. She can’t entertain this. But the images flood her mind without her permission. Logan coming to her office, talking with her secretary, lingering. The whole thing of not having any friends was a cover for flirting with Anh Ra. 

What's it to you? she thought of him as a friend but something crashed just now. The possibility, the hope. 

It’s the hope that kills you. 

She doesn’t stay to hear the end of that love story. 

–

The good thing about her job is that it gives her an excuse to be locked up in her office for hours. She doesn’t answer to anyone but the client, so her working hours are her own to stretch. That's what she does, ignoring Logan's texts recommending dinner venues -a greek cuisine stand, a traditional chinese place, a homey noodle shop- and Anh Ra’s questions. That's how she finds herself sneaking out of the building via the garage to avoid unwanted, but beautiful eyes. As if today didn’t bring her a heartbreak she didn’t know she had, right now she’s starving. 

She darts to her car, but someone stands in front, arms crossed. Forced to halt, Logan's eyes fall on hers.

He's in his leather jacket over a charcoal suit and a bag of something is next to him. More than that, he looks pissed. 

How dare he get annoyed at her?

She fixes the strap of her bag and marches towards him. 

“You’re blocking my door”. 

“You’re avoiding me”. 

“I was working”. 

His eyes dart away. When they come back to hers, they’re harsh. 

“I talked to your secretary. You were free. So let me rephrase,” he closes the small space between them, his shoes touch hers, “why are you avoiding me?”

“I doubt you two were talking about me”. 

“What is this supposed to mean?”

“Seriously? Do I seem that foolish to you?”

His eyebrows furrow. 

“What?” He scans her, her posture ready to fight. “Did I do something? One second i’m talking to Anh Ra about-”

“Yes, I heard you two”. 

“Oh. Huh.” He pushes his hands in his pockets. “I was going to tell you. There was never the right moment and since we’re working for the same company you’d have problems with that”, he fumbles. 

“You approached me just to get with my secretary, of course I have a problem with that!” she shouts. “I thought we were friends”. 

“What?”

She’s so angry she could burst. 

“There's no use denying it. I heard you asking her about dating in the workplace”. 

Silence falls, and she waits for the inevitable blow. 
 
He has the audacity to laugh. 

She pushes him and grabs the door handle-

“Let me get this straight. I have polite small talk with your secretary for three minutes and you think I like her? Not the person whom I've spent all my free time with?”

His hand falls on hers, and she finally raises her eyes to his. 

“It's you I like, Su Ryeon Si. All I've done for the past months is getting close to you.”

Her palm freezes under his bigger one. So does her brain. Is it real?

“I wasn't going to say anything yet, I know how important your job is to you and I didn’t want to give you trouble. I asked your secretary about you and she confirmed the company doesn’t allow fraternization between employees”. 

“You’re considered a short-term contractor”, she sighs. “But still, same rules. ”

He smirks, like a lawyer hitting the weak spot of her defenses. 

“And how would you know this exactly?”

There’s this moment before taking the plunge. You look down at the sea, feel the solid ground under your feet and the soft hues of the air around you. It’s calm, and inviting. You could stay there forever. 

But you jump anyway. 

“Same reason as you”. 

The way he beams, full of boyish charm and something distinctly Logan -warm, playful, direct- makes her glad she jumped. Especially when he grabs her face and kisses her so thoroughly, her back slams on the car. 

His lips slander at hers with little finesse and the bubbling urge of someone who’s waited many moons for this moment. Such ferocity, her knees can’t hold her up and she anchors to his neck, closing every space between them. He cups her neck, deepening the kiss and she’s lost. 

Breathless, they break apart, only for her to bury her head on his neck. She giggles, joy oozing from her, more so when Logan drops a kiss on her head. 

“I brought you take-out”, he nods to the bags. “Have dinner with me?”

She pulls his undone tie, catching his lips again, in lieu of an answer. 

—

He thought having her as a friend was the highlight of his day, but nothing compares to holding her hand and stealing kisses and just… being with her. 

"Ready to go?" He asks at her door. 

She gave her receptionist the night off, so it’s only her in the office. She throws him a smile, wrapping up a work call. 

"Wait for me," she mutters. 

"I will". 

True to his word, he waits next to the elevators, shifting his weight to balls of his feet. Another man joins them, a sales associate he’s met briefly . 

"Hi", he greets her, hoping third parties won’t detect the longing in his voice. 

He calls the lift. 

"Hello Mr Lee". 

They stand on opposite sides and the lift dings. Mr Jung doesn’t join them inside. 

"The meeting today was very enlightening, I will instruct my team to focus on Mr Pham's plans to-"

The doors close and he fuses his lips to hers. 

___

"Same table for you two?" The old lady asks. 

"Yes. Thank you ahjumma". 

He leads her to their table and pulls the chair for her. 

She's used to men, usually business associates, doing this for her but Logan's hand lingers on her back while he guides her. 

It's familiar, but different. She buzzes with excitement. 

"Red wine and -"

"I know, two bowls of spicy ramyeon, extra sauce, no onions". 

"And no scallions please", she adds for his benefit. 

"You remember". 

"You're fancy, how can I forget". 

"Scallions are -"

"-disgusting wet celery". 

His expression softens. 

"Now that I'm not pretending to be just your colleague, can I tell you how radiant you are?" 

"If you must". 

"I'm so lucky you spent your evenings with me, I was looking for a friend and I found the most captivating woman I've ever known." 

She smiles, as another server brings their drinks. 

"How was your day? Did you lock in the park deal?" he inquires. 

"Working on it. They're bringing the kids to the open day, we're setting the models and taking the space". 

"Urban development?" 

"A place where kids interact with art and are inspired. Also parents can leave them be."

"You should submit your paintings too". 

"No, they're professionals ". 

"So what? You have the talent to match them. I've seen your sketches. It should be your work out there too. You're an artist people would queue around the block  to see". 

"I left art school a long time ago, I paint as a hobby now ". 

"But you're brilliant at it.”

She’s unfamiliar with genuine praise. 

"Eat your food"

He mixes her noodles. 

"Is this how it's going to be from now on?" 

"If you mean how I'm going to be your biggest fan, darling, then yes. If you're talking about the food, we could go somewhere else too".

"You know what I'm talking about". 

"Yes. But I love seeing you like this".

"I wasn't always ". He takes her hand, tracing circles on her palm. "I had a hard time re-entering the company post-divorce. People were looking at me like an outsider, like someone who had no business being there again. I struggled to climb my way to art director. Evaluating others' work is safe, submitting my own designs isn't ".

"Do it anonymously". 

"What if I don't get picked?"

"You will. Mr Pham has excellent taste. And your designs aren't just utilitarian, you breathe life into what you create. You're doing it with the people in mind, how the space will affect them and what's going to bring brightness in their lives". 

"Next quarter, there's a competition for the Seoul National Park. I may submit."

"I'll be making the maquettes". 

"Your successor will". It’s the first time she mentions him leaving. It stings. 

"If you think I'm letting someone else make your dream come true, you're mistaken". 

But panic festers, he won’t be there in the spring. 

__

A warm cup of coffee waits for him on his desk Monday morning. He unfolds the napkin and finds a sketch of him. He beams when he sees he’s not in his usual tie, but a dotted bow tie. Is this a hint?

And under it a lipstick kiss. 

__

"I have a confession", he whispers as they're getting the equipment ready outside the course. She's in a white skirt and matching pink top and delectable long white socks that give him a thousand ideas. "I don't know how to play golf".

"How can a businessman not know the game of CEOs? All deals are made on the field". 

Exactly why his dad insisted on lessons and why Logan secretly skipped them. 

"I know how to compliment people on their swing and act interested when they score however many points. I can't really play". 

She raises an eyebrow. "Do you want me to teach you?"

"Very much so", he takes her by the waist and descends on her lips. She tastes of fruit juice and something hot. As if they're not close to the field, the kiss grows passionate, with her hands roaming his chest - crisp polo shirt- and sinking into him. She drops the puck he's been holding and cups his neck. They haven't started playing, yet he starts to sweat following the path of her fingers. 

"I'm learning already". 

His hands go to her hips and upward and she moans, holding him close until they're traveled through creamy skin to the lace edge of her underwear and-

Footsteps spring them apart from each other. Mr Pham appears, in full gear. Despite his calm demeanor, he means business. 

"Good morning". His eyes dart from one another. 

"Let's close this deal". 

Oh, he wants to.

____

The beep of a notification rouses Su Ryeon from her sleep. Without opening her eyes, she reaches to the nightstand and grabs her phone, wincing when the light of the screen hits her eyes. 

Reminder: 11 am brunch

Logan groans as he wakes and tightens his hold on her waist, his hand anchored on her lower belly. His mouth finds her neck and dots it with warm, sleepy kisses. Despite the current sluggishness of his body, she knows if she makes a move to get up, he’ll pin her to the bed. 

“Work?” he asks. 

She shakes her head. “Do you want to meet my best friend and her daughter?”

He pauses his ministrations. “Really?” 

“We have to be ready in half an hour”. 

With a parting kiss, he jumps out of bed and runs to the shower. He’s been hinting he wants to be part of her life -she jokingly said that they already work, eat and sleep together, to which he answered “more”- but she kept delaying it. They’re still dating in secret due to the office laws, so she didn’t want to risk crossing paths with coworkers outside.

But today she felt brave. And she needs her best friend to 

Peeling off Logan's shirt -it clings on her still sensitive s, the echoes of last night’s touches awakening her skin- she joins him for a shower. 

—

“So?” she looks at Yoon Hee expectantly. 

Her soon-to-be-ex best friend only smirks and brings the glass of mimosa to her lips. 

“Do you like him?” Su Ryeon asks the obvious. When they finished eating their eggs, Logan ordered another round of mimosas for them and took Rona for a walk in the garden of the restaurant. He said it was to pet the dogs, but Su Ryeon has no doubt he wanted to give them one-on-one time. 

“I am so mad at you!” Yoon Hee cries. “After your divorce all I do is set you up with eligible men and you dare to find the best one without my help!” She can’t help but smile and Su Ryeon joins her. 

“Oh,” she exhales. “For a second there I thought you wouldn’t approve”. 

“Despite not being me who chose this for you, as your best and wisest friend -don’t laugh-, I couldn’t be happier for you”. 

“He got you when he cut Rona’s food right?”

“Yes!” she exclaims. “She’s my daughter and I love her more than anything, but even I don’t have the patience for her eating stunts”. Rona had embraced fully her identity as a foodie, making her an impossibly picky eater. Logan -who was a picky eater in her age- just cut her food in small pieces and encouraged her to make different egg/sauce/veggie combinations in every bite. Impossibly, it worked. 

“He’s good with people, he manages a whole department and I’ve never heard any complaints. That was my fear, though. If he’s raised to be nice to everyone, including me”. 

“I take it he’s squashed this fear because that man can’t be more in love with you”. 

“You’re not afraid I wouldn’t like him. You were afraid you like him so much”. Wisest friend indeed, Yoon Hee has hit the nail on the head with this one.

“It’s just… is it supposed to be so easy? I fought to keep my marriage, I struggled with dates, I acted perfectly and still nothing. But with him, one day we’re eating Italian, next thing I know he’s making me breakfast in bed. I’m a forty-year-old divorcé and career woman and being with him comes more naturally than breathing”. 

Yoon Hee takes her hand. “People think the difficult things are worth it. But they confuse adversity with passion. You found someone who shares the hard times with you, not add more. And he looks delighted to do it. Ecstatic even”. 

She ponders. 

“He helped me submit my art to the Seoul National Park competition.”

“See? That’s what a supportive partner does. I’ve also encouraged you to get your painting out, but I guess he has better ways to persuade you”. Su Ryeon snickers and clinks her glass to her in answer. 

She lets her eyes wonder to the garden, long grass circling a small pond with waterlilies -the first time she saw it, she knew she’d found her new favorite brunch restaurant. Unable not to, she finds Logan, holding the seeds that Rona feeds the fish with. As if he’s thinking about her too, he turns his head and finds her eyes. He’s too far away but she knows this look. It’s the same one he gives her when they wake up side by side, or inextricably linked to each other, when he stares at her before she opens her eyes. She can feel its softness and warmth as real as the blanket over her. It’s a caress. 

She turns to Yoon Hee, sighing. “What am I going to do when he goes back?” 

—

Last Day

The company’s farewell celebration is held in the historic Aitna Hotel on the last day of the project. Logan fixes his tie -slim, black that glimmers blue in the lights- and walks gingerly along the path marked by the white and gold balloons. He’s so excited, he can jump the whole way to the dancefloor. 

He called Su Ryeon when he was getting dressed, hoping to get a peek of her outfit, since she insisted on arriving separately. She’d been doing this the past few days, keeping a distance.

This stops today. 

The party is in full swing. The floor is buzzing with jazz tunes, covering the mingling and conversations over champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The whole company is celebrating, one of the few gatherings available to the lower employees. It’s black tie, a sea of men in identical black suits and women in formalwear, swinging to the tune but too shy to dance yet. 

He spots Su Ryeon in a circle of her peers -wearing the stunning floor-length black dress he spotted in her wardrobe last week with strings of pearls draped along her neck- and the smile cracks his face in half. Careful not to raise -more- suspicion, he approaches the circle and falls into conversation with Mun Na and other members of accounting. 

“Can I have your attention please”, the CEO says into the microphone, “this party marks the completion of the Easton project”, cheers from the audience “and the end of our cooperation with the U.S. team. On behalf of the company, I would like to raise a glass to Project Manager Lee and his team and hope we work together in the future” Logan raises his champagne glass, feeling every eye on him. “Now, please enjoy the party”. 

With that, people drown their drinks and head gingerly to the stage, an upbeat song making people flock to the dancefloor. 

He goes to take Su Ryeon dancing, but a gray haired man stops him with a clap on his shoulder. He’s immediately roped into an animated discussion. The older man, director Pham is one of these people whose life joys are etched on his face. He has deep laugh lines and the glow of a tan on his cheeks -reminder of his recent family vacation. He shows Logan photos of him, his wife and two sons in Corfu, matching straw hats, smiles and sunburns. 

“I’ll miss working with you Mr Pham. You’re living the best life”. 

“The years have been good to me”, he nods. Apart from Su Ryeon, he’s the only person he’s spent some meaningful time with. They had a business meeting in the restaurant where his wife is the head chef and the man couldn’t be more proud. Even if the food hadn’t been amazing, Logan would still finish it all. “Young man,” he says without the derogatory tone this phrase is usually uttered, “All you need is a person to sit across the table for the rest of your life”. 

“Right…” he knows the feeling. He scans the room to find that person for him but doesn’t see her. He cranes his neck but-

“She went outside,” Mr Pham nods to the balcony. 

“Who?”

“I'm old, not blind”, the older man smirks. “Go”. 

—

“Can I have this dance?” she drowns her drink but doesn’t turn at his voice. Her hands grip the railing and the strapless gown shows her tense shoulders. “Come on, it’s a beautiful evening, you look more stunning than I can fathom and I spotted these salmon canapés you like in there”. He presents her with his hand. 

When she turns and meets his eyes, it falls. Tears threaten to fall from her eyes. With two steps, he’s in front of her, clutching her shoulders. 

“What's wrong, Su Ryeon si?”

She brushes her eyes carefully. 

“I can’t go in there and pretend to be happy”. 

“Why?”

She’s looking at him with pain. 

“I don't understand. The project was a success and we’re celebrating”. 

“You look delighted,” she spits. 

“I am”.  

“Great” she makes a move to leave, when he stops her. 

“Don’t run from me”. 

She turns around, not bothering to hide her anger. 

“I'm running? You’re the one who’s so happy work ended and you get to leave Korea, and I'm supposed to like it?”

“Is this why you’re been sad these days? Because I'm leaving?”

“I knew this was temporary. But these last few months with you… I’ve never been so happy. And it hurts that you’re going back to the U.S.”. 

She thinks he’s leaving? As if these months with her meant nothing? As if his plans didn’t go off the window when he met her. 

“I’m not going back.” That stops her. He takes her hand, squeezing her soft palm. “How can I leave when you’re here?”

A lone tear escapes and a sob. Then her eyes are smiling. Cradling her face, he lets it all on the table. “It has been the best time of my life too. And I can't wait to spend the rest of it with you”. He kisses her damp cheek, the tears a token of her love. “I planned to tell you tonight, and that’s why I couldn't stop smiling. Because from this day forward -in 28 minutes to be exact- we're not coworkers anymore. And that means I can do this”. 

He slams his lips on hers and this kiss is different. Raw, uninhibited, promising. They’re not snaking around anymore, they are starting a new chapter, one with holding hands in public and dinners without the pretext of being anything less than romantic. He vows to tone down the surprises in favor of her not getting the wrong idea ever again. Starting tomorrow, because he has one more surprise for her. 

When they separate for air, he rests his forehead on hers, admiring the flush of her cheeks and the warm glow she has when she’s happy. With a last kiss on her lips, he produces a velvet box. 

She opens it, a key is cushioned inside. The gold tag is engraved with her name. 

“I bought a house in Seoul. I’m here for good”. 

“Anything keeping you here?” She repeats the question from before. 

Now he can answer. 

“You”. 

She kisses him deeply and his eyes fall shut. Exactly four months ago, he wanted to be anywhere but here. Now, in her arms, there’s no other place in the world for him. He smiles into her lips, when he feels her nimble fingers undoing his tie. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

—