Someone Like You (The Ever After Agency #4)

Chapter 2

2

GABY

‘Are you considering it?’ I ask, and our eyes meet across the backseat.

‘You know how you can be completely oblivious to what you want until it’s presented to you and then you realise it’s all you’ve ever wanted but you’re terrified of taking the leap?’

‘Not really,’ I respond with a slight smile.

‘Well, it’s like that,’ he says.

‘So, you want to do it, but you’re scared?’

‘In a nutshell, yes.’

‘Happy to be a sounding board if you like,’ I offer.

‘Maybe later?’ he replies.

‘Sure,’ I say, faking a supportive smile even though my stomach is in knots.

Raff is not only one of my two best friends, he’s also my work husband. If he leaves to partner with CiCi, it will be far worse than when Freya left to become a matchmaker.

I’ll be on my own.

Well, not technically on my own. Global Reach is a multi-national marketing firm with thousands of employees across the world. I’ll still be part of a team, but Raff is my (professional) soft place to land, a necessity when the work is fast-paced and always high stakes. For the most part, it’s interesting, and on any given day, I enjoy what I do, but it can also be overwhelming at times.

That’s why I’m grateful to Raff and Freya for ‘adopting’ me.

Eight years ago, when I transferred from the Seattle office to London, I knew no one. Not a soul. And, as luck would have it, I joined a team that included Raff and Freya, who were already a firm duo, and from week one, we became a tightknit trio.

I imagine they took pity on me – poor, helpless waif. And rightly so. I was mid-twenties, far from home, living in a city ten times the size of the one I’d left behind, and American . The culture shock was so extreme, it knocked me sideways.

Seattle and London may both be famous for their rainfall, but that’s where the similarities end. Where Seattle is low-key and chill, London is fast-paced and… well, the opposite of chill. Moving here was the steepest learning curve of my life and there is no way I would have made it through my first year without Raff and Freya patiently teaching me the ins and outs of London life.

And professional life. No showing up to work in Central London in jeans and a T-shirt – even on non-client-facing days. Oh, the horror! On the Monday of my second week, Freya caught up to me right as I was about to walk into the building. ‘You cannot wear that to work,’ she said, steering me away from the revolving doors.

We called in late – both blaming the trains, even though I’d taken the underground – sorry, the Tube . Then she led me to the nearest Marks & Spencer where I bought a cheap suit and an even cheaper blouse. I had decent work clothes back at my accommodation but, according to Freya, this would be faster.

When we arrived at work thirty minutes late, our manager gave us the side-eye but said nothing. I made sure never to be late again and to always dress for business .

I was so sad when Freya left to work at the Ever After Agency. Even though we still hung out socially, her absence was a gaping hole in my work life. Raff felt it too. I’m guessing that’s why we ended up even closer than ever, and he evolved from colleague/friend to work husband.

I need to spitball an idea: Raff’s my guy. I need to complain about Janine (an extremely annoying colleague in another team): Raff lends a friendly ear. I need another set of eyes on a presentation that’s missing something: Raff takes it to the next level.

He’s also a half-decent gossip, but I’m positive that’s only to humour me.

I watch his profile as he gazes out the rain-splattered window, his jawline tense. I can’t imagine being torn between two professions – especially when they’re polar opposites. Raff may be a marketing whizz but he’s also an incredible baker. I couldn’t say how many times I’ve shown up at his apartment and sat down to the best pie I’ve ever had or the most chocolaty cake or perfectly baked macarons…

But no matter how hard it would be on me if we didn’t work together, baking is Raff’s passion and if he wants to partner with CiCi, then I will support him 100 per cent.

‘It sounds like an incred?—’

‘I think I want to?—’

‘Go ahead,’ I tell him.

He grins at me. ‘I think I want to do it. It scares the bejeezus out of me but…’ He shrugs, baring his teeth – his oh-my-god-what-am-I-doing? face.

‘ But you’ll regret it if you don’t.’

‘Yes, I think I would. You know I was properly pissed off when Aunt CiCi entered me in Britain’s Best Bakers behind my back…’

‘ No way! ’ I quip, pretending to be incredulous.

When the producers called out of the blue, asking Raff to come in for an audition, he was baffled. When he put two and two together and got CiCi, baffled turned into furious. I was there when he confronted her – it wasn’t pretty.

‘All right, I may have overreacted.’

‘Mmm.’

‘But, of course, she was right.’

‘Mm-hmm.’

Ever since I’ve known him, Raff has wanted to be on that show, only if any of us told him to apply, he balked. CiCi did what she had to do to nudge him over the line.

‘And now you’ve got an opportunity to make baking your career,’ I add.

‘Yes. And if nothing else, it will help keep my mind off losing Winnie. Can’t mope about feeling sorry for myself if I’m starting a new venture.’

‘Right,’ I agree, unsure of what else to say. I could go with, ‘Hey, Raff, maybe don’t make a major life decision because your (boring, snobbish) girlfriend dumped you.’ I’m sure he’d love that.

And the mention of Winnie sends me back to Freya’s idea.

If Raff was pissed at his aunt for applying to a TV show on his behalf – a show he’d dreamt of being on for years – how pissed will he be if Freya attempts to match him?

I really need to talk Freya out of it.

I didn’t talk Freya out if it. Instead, it’s late afternoon on Monday and I’m at Freya’s agency for an ‘informal chat’ with her colleague, Poppy.

I’ve been to the Ever After Agency several times over the years – mostly to meet Freya after work. It’s a modern, open-plan office that occupies the top floor of a building overlooking the Thames in Richmond. We’re in one of the meeting rooms, which has a view of the river, and Poppy is leaning against the windowsill listening intently to Freya.

I’ve hung out with Poppy before – so has Raff – and she’s an easy-going, affable gal who comes out with the most hilarious Australian expressions. She once said yes to a glass of wine because her throat was ‘drier than a dead dingo’s donger’. I’m sure I’ll remember that for the rest of my life.

And she’s married to the best-looking guy I’ve ever seen (and I’m not exaggerating). His name is Tristan and they were matched through the agency – there was an inheritance and he needed to get married in a month or something. Anyway, they’re one of those couples they write romcoms about – madly in love, only have eyes for each other… If I were a romantic, their relationship would be #couplegoals.

‘So, what do you think?’ Freya asks Poppy when she finishes outlining her plan. Since Saturday afternoon at CiCi and Devin’s, it has grown legs, arms, and a torso, including an absurd suggestion that we wear disguises to spy on Raff.

Poppy looks to me, wearing a curious expression. ‘I’m more interested in what you think,’ she says.

‘Oh, I…’ I look over at Freya, who nods at me enthusiastically. Only if I answer honestly, she’s not going to like what I have to say.

‘Any reservations?’ Poppy adds. ‘From your reaction, it seems like you weren’t across some of the details till now.’

Poppy is also super sharp. Freya once told me her ability to read people is second to none at the agency – something to do with her being a psychologist before she became a matchmaker.

‘Reservations, uh… yes,’ I reply, and she nods in understanding. Her eyes dart towards Freya then back to me, telegraphing that I need to speak up.

She’s right and with a sigh, I turn to Freya. ‘Hun, I’m sorry, but this is insane.’ She visibly deflates. ‘Well-intentioned, absolutely,’ I hurry to add, ‘and I’m with you on the whole Raff-deserves-better thing…’ To Poppy, I say, ‘It’s impossible to exaggerate how much we disliked Winnie.’

‘Uh, I’d say Freya made that pretty clear,’ Poppy says, her mouth twitching at the corners.

‘But, even so,’ I say to Freya, ‘you’ve got us running around London in disguise, spying on Raff… If he caught us…’ Now I’m doing a Freya and leaving my thoughts half unsaid.

‘But he deserves to be happy,’ she insists.

‘Totally, without question. It’s just… what if he gets pissed at us for interfering in his love life?’

‘But he said to go ahead,’ she replies earnestly.

‘He was kidding, Frey!’

She frowns. Nope, that’s a pout. My best friend is pouting like a little kid.

‘Can I step in here?’ asks Poppy.

‘Fine,’ Freya replies tersely. This obviously isn’t how she saw the conversation going.

‘ Please ,’ I say, hoping Poppy will be the voice of reason.

‘I’ve met Raff a few times, but it’s not like I’ve ever quizzed him on his philosophy of love – those were social occasions. Still, from everything I’ve heard – including today – he does seem like a true romantic, someone who loves love.’

‘Meaning?’ I ask.

‘Meaning that from my limited perspective, I’d say Raff longs to be in a relationship – so much so, he’ll settle for one that isn’t right for him.’

‘ None of them have been right for him,’ Freya mumbles.

‘That only gives more weight to my theory,’ states Poppy. ‘How did he meet Winnie?’ she asks us.

‘Flutter,’ we reply together .

‘He’s been on other dating apps,’ I add, ‘but he said the women on Flutter were more interested in relationships than… well, sex .’

Poppy nods. ‘That’s our experience too. Quite a few of our potential matches come from Flutter – and a couple of other apps that focus more on love than casual dating or hookups,’ she says, revealing a facet of matchmaking I hadn’t considered before – where the matches come from.

Freya catches my eye. She knows I use those apps – the casual dating ones, not the ones solely for hookups – but I trust her not to mention it to Poppy. Some things are sacrosanct between best friends.

‘Anyway,’ Poppy continues, ‘taking everything I know into consideration, including Raff being on Flutter and planning to propose to Winnie only six months after they started dating… I’d say there’s a strong chance he wants to find real, lasting love.’

‘Wait – what are you saying?’ I ask her.

‘I’m saying that I can see Freya’s point.’

‘Hah!’ Freya exclaims, being uncharacteristically smug.

‘Rude!’ I exclaim back.

‘Agreed, Frey, and calm the farm,’ says Poppy, busting out one of her Australianisms. ‘You may have made your point, but there are a lot of other considerations. Mostly, that I’m not wholly convinced this is a good idea.’

Oh, thank god.

‘Why?’ asks Freya.

‘ Because matching someone who doesn’t want to be matched – that’s setting us up for a fall – all of us, especially Raff. He could get hurt, Frey, and if this blows up in our faces, it could ruin your friendship.’

Two-four-six-eight, who do we appreciate? P-O-P-P-Y! Poppy! She really is the voice of reason. Now we just need Freya to listen.

‘But you’ll consider it?’ Freya asks, hopeful .

‘I’ll consider it. But to say yes, I’ll need to be convinced Raff is on board – even subconsciously.’

I hadn’t thought of that – Raff wanting Freya to match him, but not realising it.

‘And if we are doing this,’ she continues, ‘I definitely won’t have you traipsing around London in disguise. This isn’t Mission Impossible and you’re not Tom Cruise.’

‘Hah!’ I say to Freya, and we both crack up, her with a self-deprecating eye roll.

‘So, what now?’ she asks Poppy excitedly, getting ahead of herself again.

‘Now I figure out how to be sure – about Raff’s true aim,’ Poppy replies.

‘I could just ask him,’ says Freya.

‘No,’ Poppy and I reply together.

Freya looks between us. ‘Why not?’

‘Do you want to take this one?’ Poppy asks me.

I turn to Freya, quickly assembling my argument. I’ve got to get through to her.

‘Because of what you said at CiCi and Devin’s – about Raff still being devastated by the breakup. Think about it, Frey. For years now, we’ve seen Raff go from one relationship to the next looking for “the one”. Then there was Winnie – and yes, she was a piece of work and totally wrong for him – but he clearly loved her enough to propose. It might be too soon to be matching him with someone else.’

She gives me one of her I’m-not-sure-I-agree frowns.

‘Besides,’ I add hurriedly, ‘he’s recently come off this win, he’s about to change careers… Maybe Raff doesn’t want his true love sprung on him in the middle of everything else that’s going on.’

Freya’s still frowning, but her head bobs in a short, sharp nod as if she’s finally getting it .

I turn to Poppy. ‘Look, everything you’ve said today… it makes a lot of sense. Even though Raff was kidding when he said to go ahead?—’

‘He wasn’t k?—’

‘Let me finish, Frey.’

‘Fine,’ she replies gloomily.

‘Even though I’m positive about that, there’s something you said earlier, Poppy – about him wanting this subconsciously – and I see how that could be true.’

‘Wait – so, you’re saying yes?’ Freya asks me, perking up. ‘You’ll help?’

‘ If this is happening, I’ll help,’ I say. I’m still reluctant, but it would be worse if this plan went ahead and I wasn’t involved.

Freya misses the hesitancy in my voice and grins at me.

‘So, anything you need right now – from us, I mean?’ I ask Poppy.

Freya springs out of her chair, bellowing, ‘Be right back,’ as she shoots out the door.

Poppy chuckles. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever seen her this excited about a case,’ she says.

‘Me neither – or anything else for that matter. Freya’s usually the subdued, introverted one in our group.’

‘I’ll do my best to keep her in check. This could all be moot, though. She still needs Saskia and Paloma to sign off. And if they do, there will be strict parameters around Freya’s involvement.’

‘Okay.’ I don’t tell Poppy that I’m half-rooting for their bosses to say no, putting an end to this thing entirely.

‘Got it,’ says Freya, bursting back into the meeting room. She holds up a fat stack of paper.

‘What in god’s name is that?’ I ask.

‘That,’ says Poppy, ‘is your homework.’

‘Huh? ’

‘The client questionnaire,’ replies Freya. ‘Because Raff wants us to go ahead without his input’ – I don’t correct her that this ‘fact’ is still in dispute – ‘we’ll need to complete it for him.’

‘Wonderful,’ I say sarcastically.

‘Um, Frey? Maybe wait till you’ve got the go-ahead?’ Poppy suggests, and I could kiss her. Any reprieve from this insanity is welcomed.

Predictably, Freya pouts again. ‘All right. But as soon as they say yes, we’re getting to work,’ she tells me. ‘Between the two of us, we should be able to answer most questions. And if we get stuck, we can call CiCi.’

Poppy looks at me quizzically.

‘His aunt,’ I tell her.

‘Ahh, right. Okay, I’m off like a bucket of prawns in the hot sun – I’ve got a hubby, friends, and a kitty waiting at home for me. Freya, keep me posted and, Gaby, I’ll see you soon.’

‘Thanks, Poppy. See you.’

‘Bye,’ says Freya, throwing her arms around Poppy’s neck. ‘You’re the best!’ Poppy returns the hug, then leaves.

‘How many pages is that thing?’ I ask Freya.

‘Only fifty-eight,’ she replies matter-of-factly.

‘Terrific,’ I mutter.