Someone Like You (The Ever After Agency #4)

Chapter 11

11

GABY

‘Hiya, sorry I’m late,’ says Freya, climbing onto the stool next to mine. We’re at Whiskey Ginger, which is close to work and one of my favourite haunts. They excel in a cool vibe, tasty cocktails, and burgers so good, they remind me of home.

‘That’s okay. Raff was held up in a meeting anyway. He just texted,’ I say, holding up my phone. ‘ETA: five minutes.’

‘Brilliant – enough time to get a drink.’

She gets up to go to the bar, but I place a hand on her arm to stop her.

‘ Or enough time to talk strategy. This isn’t a social gathering, Frey.’

She gives me a weird look.

‘Well, okay, it is, but the primary objective is to see how it went at Raff’s course – with Jane.’

‘Primary object— You sound like we’re executing a plot to overthrow a foreign power or something. Remember what Poppy said? This isn’t Mission Impossible ,’ she says.

‘Yeah, yeah, okay. But just think, we could be minutes away from learning that Raff has met his match – so to speak,’ I add, realising the unintentional pun.

‘Oh, you’re right,’ she says, a grin splitting her face. ‘Isn’t it exciting? Ooh, I’ll have enough time to order a Christmas stocking with her name embroidered on it.’

‘Well, that may be getting ahead of oursel?—’

‘Hello, I’m late, I know – endless bloody meetings this time of year.’

Raff smacks a kiss on each of our cheeks, then unwraps the tartan scarf from his neck and slides onto the third stool.

‘Though, worth it, of course, Gabs,’ he tells me, still trying to sell me on a role I already want.

‘Right, first things first,’ says Freya – and for the life of me, I’m convinced she’s going to dive straight into asking about Jane. I poke her under the table, and she frowns at me briefly before her gaze lands back on Raff. ‘Congratulations, Baking Star on the Rise!’

Oh, right – the article about Raff. Phew.

A blush creeps up Raff’s cheeks and he shakes his head as he breaks into a smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘None of that false modesty nonsense. It was a cracking article, and you looked so dashing in the photographs,’ she says.

He accepts the compliment with slightly more grace than the congratulations, tipping his head and saying, ‘Well, thank you – but that’s just testament to what a good photographer can do.’

‘And stylist,’ Freya adds, likely not realising she’s added a backhand to her compliment. ‘Loved the outfit. Did you get to keep it?’

‘Er, yes, actually.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ I say, surprised. ‘You didn’t bring anything home with you.’

‘Well, I mean sort of. The designer was so happy with the shots, they sent me two pairs of jeans and five dress shirts.’

‘Nice perk, Delaney,’ I quip, and he grins .

Maybe the next time Freya and I try to entice him to go clothes shopping – for clothes that actually fit – we’ll be successful.

‘Right, enough about me, what’s that then?’ he asks, nodding at my almost finished drink.

‘Apple cinnamon spritz.’

‘Ooh, yum,’ he says. ‘Another?’ he asks.

‘Sure.’

‘Frey? What’ll it be?’

‘White wine, please.’

‘This coming from Miss Christmas?’ I ask, pretending to be aghast. ‘Bah, humbug!’ I declare. ‘Try again.’

‘Fine,’ she says with a giggle. ‘I’ll have what Gaby’s having.’

Raff disappears into the growing crowd, snaking his way to the bar.

‘So, back to Jane…’ she says, a glint of mischief in her eye. She takes out her phone and taps away, and ten seconds later, shows me a customisable Christmas stocking on an artisan website. ‘What about this one?’ she asks.

‘Uh, no.’

‘Why not?’ She tilts her head as she regards her phone screen.

‘Because you’re putting the cart and all the hay it’s carrying way before the horse.’

She blinks at me as if confused, then she leans in close. ‘But Jane was the number-one potential,’ she says loudly. We may be in a noisy bar but it’s a good thing Raff’s still getting our drinks, his reddish curls visible above the crowd.

‘Yes, but you’ve told me a million times that matchmaking isn’t an exact science,’ I retort. ‘Besides, Jane was only first because the perfect opportunity presented itself.’

Freya’s mouth puckers and she slumps on her stool.

‘Here we are: three apple cinnamon spritzes,’ says Raff, setting them on the table .

He climbs back onto the third stool and takes a sip of his drink, then licks his lips. I shoot Freya a look. Stupidly, I forgot to tell her I would take the lead on bringing up the course – and Jane – so I do my best to convey this with my eyes.

My best isn’t good enough.

‘So, how was your course on the weekend, Raff? Meet anyone interesting?’

I exhale a frustrated sigh. Freya’s about as subtle as a sledgehammer.

‘What? Oh, er, it was fine, I suppose. Most of it was common sense. Just glad to be done with it.’

‘And how many other people were there?’ I ask, pretending to be enthralled.

‘About twenty of us, I’d say.’

‘Cool.’

We sip our drinks in silence.

‘And what’s the age range for that sort of course?’ asks Freya, finally playing ball and asking a decent question.

‘Quite broad, actually. I’d say between sixteen and sixty.’

‘Fascinating,’ I reply.

It’s not, which makes it a stupid thing to say, and I’m not surprised when Raff squints at me curiously.

Then he starts laughing. ‘There was this one woman…’

I exchange a quick glance with Freya, then look back at Raff. This might be it.

‘She would not stop talking .’

‘What do you mean?’ asks Freya.

‘I mean, we’re all there for this intensive course and none of us really want to be there… It’s just, you know… go, learn the content, do the test, get the certificate. But she wanted to chat the entire day – and so many questions. Where do I live? What do I like to do at the weekend? That sort of thing. I had to ask her several time s to please be quiet, as I’d missed what the instructor was saying.’

‘Sounds really annoying,’ I say, mentally crossing my fingers that her name wasn’t Jane. Although, this sounds exactly how I would behave if I was supposed to meet a guy ‘by happenstance’. And it’s not like Jane is a trained actor.

‘Did you catch her name?’ Freya asks.

‘I didn’t have a choice – she plopped down next to me right as we were about to start and introduced herself. Why do you ask?’ His question comes with a confused expression, but Freya merely shrugs and takes a slug of her cocktail.

Think, Gaby.

‘Sounds like this gal I used to sit next to in Chemistry my senior year. Total chatterbox. Would not shut up.’ I pretend to try and recall her name, then snap my fingers. ‘Calliope, that’s right.’

‘Well, at least she had an interesting name. This woman was called Jane. Nice enough but really not the time or the place for a chat.’

Shit.

Freya catches my eye, our two-second look conveying a myriad of thoughts, the primary one being: Back to the drawing board.

But the thing is, even though I’m disappointed that Jane was a swing and a miss, there’s also a niggling feeling of relief. What the hell is that about?

Poppy

‘Bugger,’ I mutter to myself after I hang up from Gaby.

‘What’s happened?’ asks George, his head popping up above his monitor three desks away .

‘Seriously, how did you hear that?’

He comes over, even though I didn’t ask him to, and props himself on the edge of my desk. ‘I’ve told you before, I have outstanding hearing. So, what’s up? Why “bugger”?’

‘Potential number one didn’t work out.’

‘Oh, that is a bugger.’

While it’s reasonably common to have to move down the list – only around a third of our clients are matched with the first potential – it’s still disappointing, especially as the happenstance meeting with Jane seemed ideal – on paper anyway.

‘So, who’s number two?’ George asks.

I regard him closely. He doesn’t usually show this much interest in the minutiae of my cases, but this case is special – it’s Freya’s close friend and there’s an unspoken added layer of pressure that Raff gets his HEA.

It won’t hurt to get George’s take on things – he’s really good at brainstorming – so I tell him about Ava, who’s a veterinarian.

‘Hmm,’ he says, ‘too bad your client doesn’t have a dog or a cat.’

I chuckle and prop my chin on my hand. Typically , he’s good at brainstorming.

‘And how would that help us, exactly? I mean, we’re good …’ I say, alluding to how often we successfully deploy our vast network of connections. ‘But his pet would need to see a vet, his existing vet would have to be unavailable, and we’d have to somehow steer him towards Ava’s practice.’

‘Yes, yes, I see your point.’

We fall quiet – both of us noodling – and I lean back in my chair and stare at the peace lily on my desk. I’ve come up with some of my best ideas gazing into its waxy, deep-green leaves.

George leans closer and I look up at him. ‘Why don’t you ask Freya?’ he suggests quietly. ‘She might have something.’

I look over at Freya, who’s seated at her desk with her back to me. She’s been cool towards me since our conversation about Gaby and Raff, our exchanges limited to overly polite hellos and goodbyes. I recognise there was a little tension between us when we spoke that day, but is she waiting for an apology ? If so, I’m not sure what I have to apologise for.

Maybe she’s just busy with her divorcée case. It sounds like a bit of a nightmare.

‘I’ll think about it,’ I say noncommittally.

George straightens up and with a squeeze of my shoulder, goes back to his desk.

I’m about to check emails when my phone rings. It’s Gaby again.

‘Hey, Gaby,’ I say, ‘what’s up?’

‘I’ve been thinking about Jane.’

‘Yeah, me too. Do you reckon Raff would buy bumping into her again at some random location?’

She chuckles. ‘Yeah, I doubt that would fly. He’s smart – he’d know something was up.’

‘I figured.’

‘ But ,’ she continues, ‘something occurred to me. Raff’s always been terrible at recognising when someone’s flirting with him – girls, guys, one of our non-binary colleagues – it doesn’t matter. He’s oblivious. Someone could strip naked in front of him and say, “Take me, Raff,” and he’d reply, “Where do you want to go?”’

This makes me laugh out loud.

‘So, you’re saying that even if Jane had solid flirtation skills – which we don’t know for sure – they would have been lost on Raff?’

‘Exactly.’

I pause for a moment, considering the implications, then say, ‘We need a new plan,’ right as Gaby says the same thing.

We both laugh.

‘I’m glad we’re on the same page,’ she says .

‘Me too.’ I glance over and catch Freya looking my way. She must have heard I’m on a call with Gaby. ‘You available to meet after work?’ I ask Gaby.

‘Um, hang on…’ There’s a pause – presumably, she’s checking her diary. ‘No client events tonight, so free as a bird.’

‘Great. I’ll text you where and when.’

‘Cool. See ya then.’

We end the call and I stare at the peace lily again. For someone who may have feelings for Raff, Gaby is certainly doing her part – and then some – to help him find his match. Maybe Ursula and I were wrong.

Or maybe Gaby does have feelings for him but still hasn’t admitted them to herself. This isn’t the first time I’ve encountered someone who’s oblivious to their own feelings – especially romantic ones.

And there’s another possibility, one I haven’t considered before now. What if Raff is into Gaby – even if he doesn’t recognise yet – which is why he didn’t engage with Jane at the course?

The kernel of an idea flits into my mind, and I wait patiently for it to take shape. It only takes a few minutes before I know what our new plan is, and it should give me clarity about Gaby’s feelings – possibly even Raff’s.

Ursula’s out of the office at the moment, but I’ll fill her in when she returns. I’m positive she’ll agree with my strategy.

I glance back at Freya, who’s now typing on her laptop. I suppose now is as good a time as any to fall on my non-existent sword and make things right between us. Besides, even if she doesn’t believe there might be something between Gaby and Raff, she’ll be instrumental in executing stage one of my new plan, starting with meeting Gaby for drinks.

‘Hey, Freya,’ I call out as I stand and make my way to her desk .

When I get there, she looks up at me, her eyes filled with contrition.

‘Hi, Poppy. I was about to come over.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

She nods. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve been a nitwit…’

‘Nah!’ I say with a wave of my hand. She blinks at me slowly, as we both know this is a lie. ‘Well, okay, maybe a little one,’ I add gently.

Gaby

Poppy’s chosen The Gin Palace for our meet-up, a hip cocktail bar in Covent Garden which she says is halfway between the agency and her apartment. Or close to. I’m the first to arrive but there aren’t any seats available, even though it’s only Tuesday, and I do my best to stake out a space big enough for me, Poppy, and Freya.

At first I was surprised that Freya’s coming with her, but then it hit me – Poppy’s good at people. Of course she got Freya to come. And Freya may be sweet as pie most of the time, but when she gets a bee in her bonnet… Well, kudos to Poppy for setting the bee free.

‘We’re here!’ Freya declares, pushing between two burly banker types. They scowl in her direction, but she’s oblivious. She gives me a cheek kiss as Poppy follows her into the three-square-feet of floor I’ve commandeered.

‘Hey, Gaby.’

‘Hey. Is it always like this?’ I ask Poppy, scanning the room.

‘To be honest, I wouldn’t know – it’s only my second time here and last time, Greta saved me a seat at the bar,’ she replies. ‘It’s probably the lead up to the holidays.’

‘Oh yeah.’ Somehow, the Christmas decorations and a tinny rendition of ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ blaring from the sound system escaped my notice till now.

‘So, what are you having?’ she asks us. ‘My shout.’

‘A Cosmo,’ says Freya. I throw her a look. ‘What?’

‘Have we suddenly been transported back to 1999?’ I quip.

‘I’m finally watching S ex and the City ,’ she explains with a shrug. ‘I’ve never had a Cosmo and I want to see what all the fuss is about.’

‘Okay, sure,’ I reply.

‘I’m a Charlotte,’ she adds thoughtfully, and I’d have to agree.

Which makes me what? Carrie’s a romantic – not me at all. Samantha is a sex goddess – that’s definitely not me. So, Miranda? She’s way more career oriented than I am. Maybe I’m nobody.

‘And for you, Gaby?’ Poppy asks, her words cutting through my bizarre introspection.

‘Whatever you’re having is fine,’ I say with a half-hearted smile.

Poppy disappears into the crowd, and I turn to Freya.

‘So, you two are good?’

‘We are. I was acting like a nitwit, and I apologised this morning. This is Poppy’s case and it’s not her fault I got my knickers in such a twist.’

I shake my head at her. I could have told her the same thing and it wouldn’t have made a hill of beans difference. Come to think of it, I did tell her the same thing…

‘What?’ she asks.

‘Never mind,’ I say – it’s not worth rehashing.

She tilts her head and regards me closely.

Now I say, ‘What?’

Her lips disappear between her teeth as if she’s trying to decide whether to tell me something.

She releases her lips. ‘It’s nothing,’ she says.

‘Wow, such sparkling conversation tonight. We should have a podcast,’ I joke .

‘Far too busy for that,’ she replies seriously, and I let it go. ‘Right, now, let’s talk about Raff’s case… Between the potentials you vetoed at the screening and Raff spending an entire day telling Jane to shush, we’re much further down the longlist than I would have expected.’

‘Wait, so you saw the longlist?’

‘Of course.’

This is news to me, but it makes me curious.

‘So, which one was your favourite?’ I ask.

‘I wouldn’t say favourite , but I liked Maria.’

‘Maria… Oh, no. She was way too much like Sheree – they look practically identical. And Raff was heartbroken after she moved back to Dublin.’

‘Right,’ Freya says slowly, her brow creasing into a frown. ‘And what about Julia, the artist?’

‘The one who likes German rave music. Raff can’t stand that crap.’

‘And apparently, neither can you,’ she says.

‘Excuse me,’ calls out a familiar Australian accent. I look towards Poppy’s voice and see that she’s squeezing through the crowd carrying three cocktails aloft, the same way Raff does, but with much smaller hands. I relieve her of the Cosmo and hand it to Freya.

‘Phoof,’ sighs Poppy. ‘Maybe we should have met at the agency. A triathlon would be easier than that.’

She hands me a highball garnished with a wedge of lime. I sniff it – it’s gingery. ‘Dark ’n’ stormy?’ I ask, and she grins.

‘Cheers, big ears.’ She clinks her glass against mine, then Freya’s, and takes a sip of her drink.

I’m still stuck on her oddball toast, when Freya comes back with, ‘To love, laughter, and happily ever after. ’

‘Cheers,’ I say simply, raising my glass at them in turn. I take a drink and it’s delicious.

‘Right,’ says Poppy, ‘let’s get to why we’re here. I’ve been noodling on this since our call, Gaby, and if Raff really is as clueless about spotting signals as you say he is, then I reckon he needs a wing-woman for the next happenstance meeting.’

‘Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea,’ I say, instantly imagining Freya and Freddie inviting Raff to something and (somehow) bumping into Ava. ‘I wish I’d thought of it.’

‘Stellar idea, Poppy,’ says Freya, nodding at her earnestly.

‘So, you’re happy to be Raff’s wing-woman?’ Poppy asks, looking directly at me.

‘Wait, what ?’