Someone Like You (The Ever After Agency #4)

Chapter 8

8

GABY

‘Gaby, do you have a moment?’ asks my colleague, Lorrie – fifty-something (but doesn’t look it) and divorced (and deliriously happy about it). She and Quinn – twenty-four and semi-fresh out of college – who’s also on my team, hover at the edge of my cubicle.

‘Ahh, sure, what’s up?’

They exchange a glance, then Quinn jerks his head in the direction of the nearest meeting room. ‘I’ve booked Wordsworth,’ he says. Some ‘genius’ named all the meeting and conference rooms after dead (entirely male) poets.

‘Okaaay,’ I drawl, intrigued. I get up from my desk and follow them into Wordsworth, then Lorrie closes the door behind us and rounds on me.

‘Is Raff leaving?’ she asks – point blank, no preamble.

‘Oh, umm…’

‘He’s been in with Claire for an age,’ Quinn informs me in a dramatic whisper. ‘And it doesn’t look like a very “market-y” discussion, if you know what I mean?’

‘I really don’t,’ I reply.

‘Gaby, please be straight with us,’ says Lorrie .

‘We love Raff,’ adds Quinn.

‘I know. I love him too.’

They stare at me. ‘Well?’ Lorrie urges.

I sigh. ‘It’s not my news to share.’

‘Gaby!’ they cry in unison.

‘ Shh .’ I glance towards the glass wall but fortunately, no one on our floor seems to have heard their cries.

Just then, I see Raff leaving Claire’s office and I swing open the meeting room door. ‘Hey, Raff, can I steal you for a sec?’ I ask casually. He changes direction and comes our way.

‘Hello,’ he says, looking between us. I signal for him to close the door behind him. He does, regarding us warily. ‘What’s going on?’

‘You tell us, Rafferty,’ says Lorrie, her eyes narrowing.

‘Are you leaving us?’ Quinn whines. I’ve suspected for some time that he has a huge crush on Raff – now I’m positive.

Raff’s eyes flick to meet mine and I lift my hands in surrender. ‘Don’t look at me. I didn’t say a word.’

He turns to Lorrie and Quinn. ‘Well…’

Quinn sucks in a breath through his teeth and Lorrie appears distraught.

‘Yes, I am. I’ve just given notice,’ Raff adds.

‘No!’ they wail together.

‘Seriously, did you two rehearse this routine?’ I ask, but they both ignore me – they’re too busy imploring Raff to stay.

He raises his hands to placate them, and they fall silent. ‘It’s done,’ he tells them gently. ‘I’m working up till the Christmas break, but I won’t be returning in the New Year.’

‘Where are you off to then? Those bastards at Zenith didn’t poach you, did they?’ Lorrie asks, switching seamlessly to interrogation mode.

‘Lorrie, you know I’d never work for those bastards at Zenith.’

‘Those bastards’ include Cockwomble, the not-so-affectionate- but-apt nickname Lorrie’s given her ex-husband. Cockwomble is a senior director at Zenith and Lorrie would consider working for him tantamount to betrayal.

She exhales a loud sigh while Quinn falls into a chair. This is hitting them harder than I expected.

This is hitting me harder than I expected.

In less than a month, Raff won’t be occupying the cubicle next to mine. We’ve shared that fuzzy green wall for years – so long, I can’t remember when we didn’t share it. Even after Raff’s promotion last spring – a role that came with an office as well as a raise – he asked to stay put. Claire couldn’t understand why. I could – Raff is the epitome of a team player – he thrives on working with the ‘little people’. He also hates it when I call us that – more evidence that he’s a genuinely good guy.

‘So where are you off to then?’ Lorrie asks wearily.

‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll tell you everything,’ he offers.

Lorrie and Quinn exchange another look, then Lorrie takes a seat next to Quinn.

‘Um, are you guys cool if I sit this out? I’m already up to speed.’

Quinn shrugs, Lorrie waves me off, and when I catch Raff’s eye, I mouth, ‘Good luck.’

I leave Wordsworth and instead of going back to my desk, I take the elevator to the ground floor. I have about forty minutes before my next meeting and I need a breather. After exiting the Shard, I head towards the river.

I never get bored of walking along the Thames, especially watching the ever-changing river traffic. Sometimes, I’ll stop and take in the dense and varied architecture across the river on the northern bank. London is steeped in history, for sure, but it also has this vibrant modern energy. And Tower Bridge is one of the most spectacular landmarks I’ve ever seen. It has been far easier for this city to feel like my second home than I’d originally anticipated .

Though I do get homesick for Seattle – and not only because I miss my family. Seattle is a truly beautiful place – the city itself and the natural beauty surrounding it.

There’s a vantage point not far from my parents’ place that has always been my go-to for when I need to catch my breath or to ponder some dilemma. I’ll sit and stare at the view, taking in each incredible detail. The rough and rugged Orcas Islands nestled in Puget Sound. How the Olympic Mountains in the distance are silhouetted against the sky. The working port at West Seattle, with its enormous cranes and boat traffic. The ferries that cross the sound, miniscule from that high up. The converted buildings along the waterfront – once used for shipping but now restaurants, hotels, and events venues. And the city itself, including the iconic Space Needle, which is even more incredible at night. And on clear days, which are few and far between, you can see Mount Rainier in the distance – so tall and monolithic, it looks fake, like that logo at the start of a Paramount Pictures movie.

I stop at a spot along the granite wall next to the Thames and rest my forearms on top. It’s another crisp fall day and the sun is doing an impressive job of shining, making the sky a milky blue.

Raff is leaving.

Not only will I see less of him, but he’s taking this huge leap of faith. I haven’t done anything that extreme in years – not since my move to London. And with Freya gone…

Maybe this is why Raff’s departure from Global Reach is hitting me so hard. First Freya, now Raff… They’re both pursuing their passions.

But what’s mine? I enjoy my work, but if I’m honest with myself, I haven’t been stretched professionally for some time. I wonder if I should throw my hat in the ring for Raff’s role. Getting promoted would certainly help me shake off the doldrums.

Or what about moving back to Seattle? Gina would be thrilled – so would Dad – but is that what I want? And would it be good for me?

I’m heading back in a few weeks for my cousin’s wedding, then staying on to spend Christmas with my parents. I suppose I could check out the vibe while I’m there – jobwise, dating wise… Of course, I’d miss Freya and Raff if I moved back to Seattle – and CiCi and Devin, and Lorrie and Quinn – my London peeps. But I’d also be closer to my family.

Ahh, hell, there’s so much to consider.

My bout of navel gazing is cut short when my text notification chimes – probably Raff telling me he’s broken Lorrie and Quinn’s hearts and needs me back at the office ASAP.

But when I check my phone, it’s not Raff, it’s Poppy. I read the text and break into a smile, chuckling to myself.

Hi Gaby. This is Poppy. Looking forward to this arvo. And don’t worry – will make it painless. Have a fully stocked bar! *LOL emoji*

The more interactions I have with Poppy, the more I like her. But I still don’t know what the hell a screening has to do with matchmaking.

‘Hey! Great to see you,’ says Poppy. ‘Come on through.’

She leads the way to the back of the office and – I’ll be damned – there’s an actual screening room. As far as I knew, only rich people and film directors have these. I half-expect someone to hand out popcorn.

‘This is Ursula,’ says Poppy, and the woman sitting in the front row turns around.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ she says with a taut smile. She’s either not pleased to meet me or that’s as much as her face can move. Her eyes seem warm and welcoming, so I guess it’s the latter.

‘Hi, Ursula.’ I sit next to her and Poppy sits next to me.

‘So, when you said “screening”, you meant…?’ I ask her.

‘You’ll see but, first, did you want a bevvie? I wasn’t kidding about the bar.’

‘You weren’t?’ I ask with a laugh. ‘Matchmaking may be more fun than I thought.’

‘Just a perk of working after hours.’

‘Ahh, of course. For some reason, I had this image of bar carts and day drinking, like in Mad Men .’

Poppy, laughs. ‘Yeah, no.’

‘Oh, I adore that Jon Hamm,’ says Ursula, and when I turn to her, she’s wearing a dreamy expression. ‘So dishy…’ She says the last part to herself and I don’t ask her to expound.

I turn back to Poppy. ‘I’ll have something if you are.’

‘Cool.’ She presses a button on a console between our seats.

‘Hi, Poppy. What can I get you?’

‘Hi, Anita. A G&T for me, please.’ She leans past me. ‘Ursula?’

‘I’ll have the same.’

Then she looks at me, her eyebrows raised. ‘Umm, yeah, a G&T sounds good.’ Until I moved here, I never drank gin, but when in Rome and all that.

We chit chat for a few minutes, then the agency’s receptionist shows up with a tray bearing three highballs.

‘Thank you, Anita,’ says Poppy. ‘Anita makes the best G&Ts,’ she tells me as she hands out the drinks.

Anita chuckles. ‘Only because I put myself through uni working behind the bar. Right, I’m heading off,’ she says. ‘I hope it goes well.’

So do I, even though I still haven’t a clue what to expect.

‘Mmm, that is good,’ says Poppy, licking her lips. ‘Okay, so how this works is: based on the client questionnaire Freya completed, the additions you provided, and the recording of the Nouveau Life interview, Ursula and I have assembled a longlist of potential matches. We’ll take you through those now so you can help us create a shortlist.’

‘Okay,’ I say, still confused why we’re doing this in here.

Poppy picks up a huge remote and presses a couple of buttons. Instantly, the room goes dark, and a photograph of a woman appears on the screen.

‘This is Ritu,’ says Poppy. As she progresses through a series of images of an attractive South-Asian woman with curly, shoulder-length hair, Poppy gives me an in-depth biography of Ritu. In broad strokes, she’s a high school English teacher, the oldest of three sisters, and the only one who’s not married. She’s also an avid traveller and has three cats.

In my periphery, Poppy looks my way and I turn to her. ‘Any preliminary thoughts on Ritu?’ she asks.

‘Umm, just that she’s an avid traveller and Raff’s about to be tied to London with his new role at Baked to Perfection – at least for the foreseeable future. That could lead to a clash in priorities and, eventually, resentment – on both their parts.’

Poppy’s eyes meet mine in the semi-darkness. ‘That’s an astute observation. Though, Raff has travelled quite a bit in the past. Don’t you think he’ll come back to it once he’s got the lay of the land at Baked to Perfection?’

‘Hmm, maybe. But that could be months or even years from now.’

‘She’s only the first of eight,’ says Ursula. ‘I suggest we proceed.’

I turn back to the screen and at the press of a button, a blonde woman with striking green eyes appears. ‘This is Eilidh,’ says Poppy.

And just like that we’ve ‘swiped left’ on Ritu. I don’t feel entirely comfortable being in this position, learning about these women and judging them on so little information. Maybe that’s why I’ve never used dating apps for anything more than casual dates. What can you really tell about a person based on their most flattering photo and some BS they’ve written in their bio?

Eilidh seems nice enough, but she has celiac disease and how would that work? Sure, sometimes Raff bakes gluten-free recipes, but he’s about to work in a bakery! What’s he supposed to do? Wear a hazmat suit to work so he doesn’t come home covered in flour and make his girlfriend sick?

What started out as a novel assignment becomes more laborious as we go on. By the time we finish, we only have two potential matches – Jane, who works for a not-for-profit, and Ava, who’s a vet. We also have an alternate – Julia, an artist who I wanted to kibosh solely for her obsession with German rave music, something Raff can’t stand. But Ursula insisted we make her the alternate in case the others don’t pan out.

‘And we’re done,’ says Poppy brightly.

She brings up the lights, and I blink until my eyes adjust.

‘Thank you, Poppy,’ says Ursula. ‘Richard’s taking me to dinner, so I’ll be off. Nice to meet you, Gaby. No doubt we’ll see you again soon.’

We say goodbye to Ursula and Poppy collects our glasses, then leads us out of the screening room. ‘I’ll pop these in the dishwasher and be right back.’

With the office to myself for a few moments, I feel a pang of… well, something – unease, maybe. Was I too harsh on those women? They all seemed nice enough – and interesting – and I know from Freya the agency prides itself on the calibre of its clientele, including potential matches. Maybe that’s why it feels icky to dismiss them based on a single preference or trait.

‘Ready?’ Poppy asks, and I land back in the present .

‘Yeah, sure,’ I reply.

She stops by her desk to collect her handbag and we head towards the exit.

‘Poppy?’

‘Mmm?’ she asks as she keys in a security code. A loud beeping sound blasts, and she ushers me quickly through the double glass doors, then takes a set of keys out of her handbag and locks up.

‘Back there… was I too judge-y – about the women? It’s just that I know Raff and?—?’

‘No, no, not at all. It’s important we get this right, and you’re across details that may not seem to matter on the page but could be a dealbreaker in the real world.’

‘Exactly. That’s all I was trying to do.’

She presses the button to call the elevator and the doors open right away. As we step inside, something else occurs to me. ‘Can I ask… if I hadn’t come in today, how would you have… you know?’

‘Narrowed down the shortlist?’

I nod.

‘By further scrutinising every compatibility marker, then considering which of the potential matches to introduce to Raff first.’

‘So, matchmaking ?’ I ask with a smile. ‘It’s much more complex than I originally thought.’

‘It’s not an exact science, but we have a high success rate and where we fail, we take those learnings and adjust. You’ve saved us several days’ work.’

‘Then I’m glad I could help. And do you always do it like that?’

‘The screening?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Nah,’ she says as the elevator doors open on the ground floor. ‘But Freya said you’d get a kick out of it.’

‘Frey—’ I shake my head .

‘She’s cheekier than most people think,’ says Poppy.

‘That’s one way of describing her,’ I reply with a chuckle.

We head out into the already dark evening, then say our goodbyes. But as I walk towards the bus stop, I can’t help but wondering, If I’ve been so helpful, why do I feel like shit?