Someone Like You (The Ever After Agency #4)

Chapter 4

4

GABY

‘How am I supposed to do that?’ I ask Poppy. She’s called, hoping I’ll convince Raff to agree to an interview with Nouveau Life .

‘Well, you could?—’

‘You don’t understand, Poppy,’ I say, talking over her. ‘Raff hates publicity. It’s bad enough he has radio interviews every night this week, but those are part of his contract with the show – he’s obligated. How am I supposed to convince him to do an interview with a huge online magazine? Tell him it’ll be fun?’ I ask with a sarcastic laugh.

‘I understand it could be tricky,’ she says, obviously trying to placate me. ‘But you said Raff is planning on joining his aunt’s company, which also happens to be the biggest chain of bakeries in the UK. Appearing in Nouveau Life would be great publicity for Baked to Perfection. Couldn’t you put it to him like that?’

‘Hmm, maybe…’ I say, noncommittally.

‘Look, Gaby, I’ll be honest, other than asking him point blank if wants to be matched, this is the best chance we have at figuring this out. Unless… Should we just ask him?’

‘No!’ Oops, I hadn’t intended to answer so vehemently .

Poppy chuckles. ‘Okay then.’

‘Sorry, it’s just… ever since we met on Monday, I’ve been thinking about it. And I’m pretty sure that if I went to Raff now and said, “Hey, there’s, like, this huge plan to find your perfect match – do you really want that?” he’d say no. Because I’m not sure Raff knows what he truly wants.’ I cough out a derisive laugh. ‘I mean, do any of us?’

Oh shit. Why did I say that? And to Poppy . Now she’s probably analysing me.

‘Okay, so, what I’m hearing,’ she says, sounding exactly like a psychologist, ‘is that you agree the interview is the way to go.’

‘Yeah, I guess I am.’ Then something comes to me – a way to put an end to this, once and for all. ‘Hey?’

‘Yeah?’

‘What are the chances of getting Freya to drop this whole thing?’

She laughs and despite myself, I join in.

‘Ah… Yeah, no,’ she replies. ‘I reckon we’ve got Buckley’s – sorry, that means no chance.’

‘Yeah, you’re right. At least if Raff does the interview, there’s still hope. Maybe it’ll reveal that he’s not looking for love – even subconsciously – and we can shut this down.’

‘Possibly…’

God, is it only Thursday? It’s only been five days since we were all at CiCi’s celebrating Raff’s win, but it’s feels like weeks . Probably because of the constant texts from Freya, most of them nagging me to finish my version of that (stupid) questionnaire. How is knowing Raff’s favourite colour supposed to help him find love?

Love …

He really is happiest when he’s in love. And don’t I want my best friend to be happy ?

‘Gaby, you still there?’ Crap, I’ve been in my head so long, Poppy thinks the call has dropped.

‘I’m here – sorry, just thinking.’

‘You don’t need to give me an answer right away – we have a bit of time.’

‘Thanks. I appreciate that, but I’ll do it.’

‘Really? That’s great. Thanks, Gaby.’

‘But I can’t promise anything,’ I add hastily. ‘Raff’s his own person.’

‘I completely understand. I know you’ll do your best.’

‘So, let’s say I’m successful; when’s this interview?’

‘I’m more nervous than I was the first day of filming Britain’s Best Bakers ,’ says Raff, and I reach over and pat him reassuringly on the knee.

Ordinarily, we’d be heading into work, as it’s Monday morning, but a town car picked us up at Raff’s place and we’re on our way to Nouveau instead.

Our boss, Claire, was surprisingly amenable to giving Raff time off for this interview – and for me to accompany him to ‘keep an eye on things’. But it must be good for her to hitch the firm’s wagon to Raff’s rising star, especially as it’s well known he’s a marketing director at Global Reach.

Of course, she has no idea he’s leaving.

‘Do I look all right?’ He fidgets with the hem of his bright-red acrylic Christmas sweater. If he wore it to the Rivera family’s Ugly Christmas Sweater Party, he’d probably win first prize, but I’m not telling him that. He’s nervous enough.

‘Super festive,’ I say reassuringly. ‘And don’t worry, I’ll be there the whole time. I’m sure it’ll be great. ’

‘Thanks for coming with me,’ says Raff, sending a nervous smile my way.

‘Sure.’ I don’t add that it’s the least I could do when I’m the one who talked him into it. ‘Consider me your personal marketing manager. We’re launching a new brand, and it just happens to be you.’

‘Ugh,’ he groans. ‘You know I hate being the centre of attention.’ I sure do. ‘At least those bloody radio interviews are behind me.’

‘Seriously, it’ll be fine. I checked out Greta Davies, and she’s considered one of the best in the biz. And apparently, she’s super sweet.’ According to Poppy, anyway, but I omit that part.

‘Hmm,’ he murmurs, clearly unconvinced.

The cab pulls up outside a stylish building on the Strand, one with a seamless blend of the original architecture and modern updates. It’s a stark contrast to the glass and steel behemoth Raff and I work in. Though the Shard is a cool building and I love that part of London, especially as it’s teeming with great options for after-work drinks.

‘Ready?’ I ask.

‘Nope, but let’s go.’

He opens the door, unfurling his tall frame onto the sidewalk, and I follow him out the kerbside door.

The receptionist on the ground floor gives us visitor passes and directions to a third-floor conference room. When we arrive, we’re greeted by an attractive, petite, curvy woman with wavy red hair worn in an up-do.

‘Hello, Greta Davies, lovely to meet you, Rafferty.’ They shake hands. ‘And you must be Gaby.’

‘Hi. Thanks for letting me tag along.’

‘Oh, no problem at all. A lot of interviewees bring along someone from their team. ’

She must be referring to actual celebrities who have actual teams. Raff and I exchange an amused glance.

‘Let’s sit, shall we,’ says Greta, and we do, taking the three chairs at one end of an enormous conference table.

‘Can I just say right off the bat, I’m a huge fan,’ she says effusively. ‘ Such a well-deserved win. That wedding cake – spectacular .’

Raff breaks into a grin, his anxiousness melting away in an instant. Nicely done, Greta , I think. It’s a skill being able to set a stranger at ease – and so quickly. Clearly, he’s in good hands.

‘Thank you,’ he replies to the compliment. ‘Just something I’d been working on for a while. But you never really know until the day if it’s going to come together.’

He’s being modest – he spent hours designing and practising that cake – but maybe that will come up during the interview: Raff’s dedication to his artistry.

‘Right, so let’s get you down to hair and makeup, then off to wardrobe,’ she says.

‘Wait, did you say “makeup”?’ he asks.

‘Yes – for the photoshoot.’

I knew they’d be taking a photo to publish with the article, but a full photoshoot ? Then it hits me – this is Nouveau , not a local paper – of course there’s a photoshoot.

Greta must clock the panicked look on Raff’s face. ‘I assure you, the makeup’s very natural – only a little touch-up for the cameras so you don’t look washed out.’

‘Okay,’ he says, shooting me a look that says, ‘Please help me’. All I can do is shrug. Neither of us are rookies in this area, but it was a rookie mistake on both our parts not to have thought about this before.

‘And the fashion editor has pulled some great looks for you,’ she continues, throwing fuel on the make-Raff-as-uncomfortable-as-possible fire .

‘Oh, I thought…’ He looks down at his Christmas sweater. ‘So, you’re going to dress me?’

‘Absolutely,’ Greta replies. ‘Our fashion editor – Luca – he’s very excited to get his hands on you. Oh, I didn’t mean physically … We always behave respectfully here at Nouveau ?—’

I stifle a laugh – Greta is unintentionally very funny.

‘Sorry, I meant that Luca usually styles fashion shoots – mostly women and non-binary models – so when he got wind you were coming in – a man – he insisted on styling you himself. Not that he’s— he’s not… What I meant to say is that ordinarily one of his fashion assistants would do it. Er… style you.’

This gal’s hilarious. It’s taking all my self-control not to laugh. Raff, however, looks like he’s about to hightail it out of here.

‘You okay?’ I ask him.

‘It’s just… Now I feel a bit silly showing up in this,’ he says, tugging at the sweater.

‘Oh, that’s probably my fault,’ Greta replies. ‘I obviously wasn’t clear when we spoke on the phone.’

I’m positive she’s being gracious. When I showed up at Raff’s apartment this morning and he opened the door wearing that (dumb) sweater, I grilled him, trying to figure out exactly what he’d been told. None of what he relayed included the words ‘dress in an ugly Christmas sweater’.

Greta checks the time on her phone. ‘Oh, we’d better be getting going.’

‘Do I really have to wear makeup for the photo?’ Raff asks me quietly as we trail behind Greta.

‘Yep,’ Greta says over her shoulder – the gal’s got great hearing, I’ll give her that. ‘And it’s not a photo, Rafferty. We’ll be including a full photo series with the article.’

‘Oh dear god, what have I got myself in for?’ he mutters under his breath. When I look up, the small amount of colour in his already pale face drains away.

‘It’ll be fine,’ I whisper.

‘Easy for you to say,’ he retorts, which is only fair.

‘It seems to be going well,’ says Greta.

Raff is on set having his photo taken and we’re watching from the back of the studio.

‘Yeah, for sure. Raff looks… I don’t know – different ,’ I say, regarding him closely as he follows the photographer’s directions. ‘Like him but elevated, you know.’

‘I told you, Luca’s a virtuoso when it comes to styling.’

Luca was super enthusiastic about styling a guy, like Greta said he would be, but he also knows his stuff, making the most of Raff’s height, broad shoulders, and slim hips. He’s dressed Raff in a pair of fitted dark-wash jeans, a crimson dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up – a subtle nod to Christmas, Luca said – and a pair of black leather lace-ups.

This outfit is a huge step up from the boxy suits Raff wears to work – god knows how many times Freya and I have nagged him about buying suits that fit – or the baggy jeans and oversized T-shirts and sweaters he favours on the weekends.

Though, I’m one to talk.

I’m the marketing manager for several high-end brands, but I’m hardly a fashionista . Early on, I recognised I wouldn’t compete with fashion designers and models – and I didn’t want to – so I adopted a style that both suits me and fits in with my colleagues and clients. Mostly, I wear tailored suits I procure cheaply and have altered, zhuzhed-up with graphic T-shirts on non-client-facing days and silk blouses on the days I need to impress .

I look back at the set, noting that hair and makeup also nailed it. The hair stylist defined Raff’s curls with product, pushing them off his face in a style reminiscent of Henry Cavill – totally off-brand for Raff, who’s content to let his curls flop onto his forehead unfettered. That’s fine for an angsty teen, but Raff’s a thirty-two-year-old man.

And once the photographer – a Dutch guy named Jan – started directing Raff into poses, he visibly started to relax. I’m sure Jan is getting some great shots. If I were overseeing this shoot on behalf of a client, I’d be thrilled – they’ve gone all out.

And I’m so proud of Raff. This sort of thing is way outside his comfort zone, yet here he is being agreeable and in many ways, brave.

When I first brought up the interview, he said no so many times in a row, I lost count after five. But we talked it through and eventually, he sighed and said, ‘I’m about to make a major life change and if I can’t face the little fears, how will I face that one?’ Then he agreed to the interview.

And that right there is the definition of bravery – being afraid but forging ahead anyway.

‘So,’ Greta whispers, leaning in closer, ‘Poppy says you’re in the know.’

‘In the know?’

She nods. ‘About the favour .’ She loads the word ‘favour’ with meaning, only I have no idea what that meaning is.

‘You’ve lost me.’

She purses her lips, then guides me by the elbow into a darker corner of the studio.

‘You see, Rafferty’s win is a hot topic, so saying yes to the interview was a no-brainer – it’s a huge coup for Nouveau Life . And I’ll be asking him all sorts of questions to help flesh out his biography for Poppy. But you know about the other thing, right? The favour? Poppy says you’ve been looped in.’

As confusion mars her pretty face, I finally understand what she’s talking about: the main objective for the interview.

‘Yeah, totally. Sorry, the favour .’ I shake my head at myself and she sighs with relief. ‘So, how are you planning to bring it up?’ I whisper.

‘I won’t come right out with it, of course – too jarring. I’ll be framing the question under the guise of exploring Rafferty’s “sex symbol” status.’

I laugh loudly, then clap a hand over my mouth. When I glance at the set, both Jan and Raff are looking my way. ‘Sorry,’ I call out, and they resume the photoshoot.

‘It’s associating the words “sex symbol” with Raff,’ I tell her quietly. ‘And it’s not only me – Raff thinks it’s ridiculous.’

‘Even so, he has become one.’

‘Right.’

I glance at the set again, seeing Raff through this additional lens. He is handsome – even though I’ve never thought of him that way – but I’d say it’s his personality that makes him most attractive. He’s just a decent, kind, and often funny guy.

There were countless times on the baking show when he would stop working on his own creation to help someone who was having a hard time. And so many tears on that show – you would have thought it was a show about dating, not baking – but Raff was always there to give a hug and some words of encouragement.

I’m now determined to do whatever I can to help him find someone who’s worthy of him.

‘You’re staying for the interview, right?’ Greta asks me.

‘Hell, yeah. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’