Someone Like You (The Ever After Agency #4)

Chapter 12

12

GABY

‘But why me? Freya would be a way better wing-woman than I would,’ I say adamantly. ‘She’s a matchmaker .’

‘Yes, but you’re closer to Raff than I am, which makes you better suited,’ Freya retorts.

She and I lock eyes for a beat, then I turn to Poppy. ‘Seriously, why me?’

‘Well, from what you’ve both told me, you are closer to Raff than Freya,’ she replies. ‘But you’re forgetting that it can’t be Freya – conflict of interest, remember?’

‘But she’d be acting as his friend, not his matchmaker.’

Poppy makes a face that tells me I’m playing semantics, but I don’t care. I’d make a shitty wing-woman – period .

‘Help me out here, Frey,’ I plead.

‘I’m sorry, but I agree with Poppy. And with my trip to Sweden coming up and my divorcée case – she’s such a handful – I don’t have the capacity right now. Please? If we’re going to find Raff a girlfriend before Christmas?—’

‘Wait,’ says Poppy, interrupting. ‘Is that your expected timeframe? Because that’s pushing it, Frey. ’

‘See?’ I say to Freya. ‘And I’ve got stuff on too. I’ve got all my holiday campaigns, I’m going home in a couple of weeks, and I’m helping Raff tie things up at work… Maybe we need to wait till the New Year and pick this up again then.’

What I don’t say is that by January, I might have talked Freya into playing wing-woman instead of me.

‘Nooo,’ she wails.

What is with her lately? All this whining and wailing. I frown at her, about to call it out, when Poppy addresses me.

‘How about this,’ she says. ‘Is there anything coming up on your calendar that you could invite Raff along to?’

‘You mean before Christmas?’ She nods and when I turn towards Freya, she’s nodding along, her eyes filled with hope.

‘I’ve got a bunch of client events,’ I say, taking out my phone and navigating to my calendar.

My personal stuff is in yellow, and my out-of-hours work stuff in red – and sadly, the coming weeks are drowning in red. With this many client holiday parties in the lead up to Christmas, my calendar looks like a crime scene. These events can be fun – some more than others – but they tend to follow the same format with the only distinguishing feature being the contents of the goodie bags.

‘There’s this,’ I say, spying a client event Raff is also attending. ‘Raff and I are both going to the LuxeLustre event next Tuesday.’

‘LuxeLustre?’ Poppy asks.

‘Luxury jewellery designer.’

‘Ahh,’ she replies. ‘I suppose that could work, but I was hoping for something a little less “corporate-y” and a little more personal. Is there anything else?’

My eyes land on this coming Saturday afternoon, which I’ve blocked out to go to a day spa. They’re one of my newer clients – super upmarket and way out of my modest marketing manager budget. They’ve booked me in for ‘the full treatment’ – gratis for me and a guest. Only I’d forgotten about it till now and I haven’t invited anyone yet.

Would Raff want to go with me? The thought of him wrapped in a white, fluffy robe with cucumbers on his eyes makes me chuckle.

‘Care to share?’ Poppy asks.

I hold up my phone. ‘I’ve got this day spa thing on Saturday. A freebie from a client for me and a guest, but I doubt?—’

‘Perfect!’ Freya chirps.

‘A day spa? Raff?’ I give her my you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look.

‘He has been really stressed lately,’ she replies earnestly.

When I glance at Poppy, it’s clear she’s amused. She gives a half-shrug. ‘Couldn’t hurt to ask. But could you get Ava in as well? The agency will cover the cost.’

‘It’s kinda last-minute but I’ve got a good relationship with them. I can ask.’

‘It really is perfect, Gaby,’ Freya reiterates.

I look between them. How have I gone from ‘no frigging way’ to ‘I can ask’ in a matter of minutes? Then it dawns on me.

‘Oh, you guys are good ,’ I tell them.

Freya blinks at me innocently but Poppy owns it, quipping, ‘Too bloody right we are,’ before downing the last of her drink.

‘Er, no thanks. I’ll be very busy sorting my sock drawer on Saturday.’

As I predicted, Raff doesn’t want to go to the day spa – shocker. And this is after my contact at Elysium Elite agreed to squeeze Ava into an already booked-out day – for free .

With one half of the plan now in place, I’ve got to get Raff to change his mind. As I’m in a time-crunch, I skip sweet talking, cajoling, bribery, and blackmail – though what I’d use against him is a mystery; he’s too good a person to ever be blackmailed.

Instead, I go straight to begging.

‘ Please . Freya can’t come and I need a day of pampering. I’m running around at work like a headless chicken…’ This is a lie, as I’m organised as hell at work. ‘And I haven’t even packed for Seattle yet. I’m a huge ball of stress.’

‘First off, you are smashing it at work.’ I should have known he’d refute that. ‘And second, your trip is more than a fortnight away and you never pack in advance, Miss “I’ll pack the morning of and forget my knickers”.’

‘That was one time.’ It was three times. ‘Besides, you’re leaving me at Global Reach all alone and you owe me.’

‘Ah, so now we get to the crux of it.’ His green eyes crease at the corners, betraying his stern expression. ‘And I owe you because…?’

‘You’re my work husband and you’re abandoning me.’

I do not like the way my voice hitches on ‘abandoning’. What the hell is that about? I’m a big girl and Raff is one of my closest friends. Of course we’ll still see each other.

And then it hits me – hard . When Freya left, our friendship transitioned to a new phase. We’re still close but not close close.

I must be afraid that the same thing will happen with Raff. I suddenly feel queasy, which is unfair because Raff deserves this. He deserves to follow his passion.

He cocks his head, giving me a pitying look. I don’t like that either, especially if it’s a talisman of the inevitable change of our dynamic.

‘You still have Lorrie and Quinn,’ he says gently. ‘Surely the two of them together add up to one work spouse.’

‘It’s not the same thing,’ I say tersely. ‘And we’re getting off topic. Just come to the day spa. It’ll be fun. ’

He stares at me through narrowed eyes. ‘I wouldn’t have to walk about nude, would I?’

I cough out a laugh. ‘What? No. It’s not like that. It’s “all genders” in the common areas, meaning everyone will be wearing robes. It’s only in the treatment rooms that they make you strip naked.’

‘Fuck. Really?’

‘ No! But you should see your face right now,’ I say with a laugh, glad to be done with the heavy part of the conversation.

Raff’s lips stretch into a mirthless smile. ‘This is not the way to get me to agree, you know.’

‘What is the way, then? Because I am not taking no for an answer.’

He throws his head back and heaves out a sigh of surrender. ‘Fine!’

‘Thank you!’ I leap up to run around the conference table and wrap my arms around his shoulders in a hug. He pats my arm, his head shaking. I can tell he’s still wary, but at least I’ve kept my promise to Poppy about getting him to the day spa.

There’s a knock at the door and a colleague pokes her head in as three others huddle behind her.

‘Sorry, but we’ve got Byron booked from one.’

‘That’s my fault,’ I say, straightening.

Raff and I vacate the meeting room and go back to our respective desks. I text Poppy and Freya to tell them The Pamper Ploy is a go!

Poppy texts back almost immediately.

Cute name. Better trademark that. *winky face*

With Poppy briefing Ava, all I have to do before Saturday is mentally prepare for ultimate wing-womaning .

Whatever that is.

‘I could get used to this,’ says Raff, stretching out on a cushioned lounger.

We’re only an hour in, but we’ve already been in the hot tub and the infrared sauna. Then we (stupidly and literally) took the plunge in the freezing-cold plunge pool. I lasted approximately 3.2 seconds before I shot up the ladder and stood on the platform shivering. Without waiting for Raff, who was laughing at my hasty retreat, I beelined for the hot tub and immersed myself in the steaming water up to my neck until I thawed out.

Plunge pools are hardcore, and I am anything but.

Now we have free time until our massages in thirty minutes. At first, the staff offered us a couples massage – hilarious! – but we set them straight and told them we’re just friends.

An older woman enters the relaxation room wearing the spa’s uniform. It looks like pyjamas and I’m a little envious she gets to dress so comfortably for work. She carries herself as if she does yoga three times a day, her movement graceful and fluid, and she sets down a tray on the table between us.

‘Herbal tea,’ she says. ‘Lavender – good for relaxation,’ she adds with a smile.

She leaves us to pour from a small glass tea pot into two teeny pottery cups. They remind me of the shot glasses I once brought back from Mexico.

‘Shall I be mother?’ asks Raff, reaching for the pot.

‘Moth— Oh, right,’ I say, remembering what that expression means. I’ve only heard it a few times and never once from anyone under the age of sixty.

Raff hands me one of the cups and I sniff. It smells incredible. But when I take a sip, it requires all my willpower not to spit it out. Soap. It tastes exactly like soap. I swallow and glance over at Raff, who’s making the same face as me.

‘Tea shouldn’t taste like potpourri,’ he says, setting the cup down.

‘I was going to say “soap”,’ I say, putting mine next to his.

‘The thing is,’ he tells me intently, ‘floral notes can be wondrous in food – and in this case, tea. But you cannot overdo it.’

‘I’m onto you. You’re just quoting Vicky Harrington,’ I say, referring to one of the judges on Britain’s Best Baker .

‘That’s Dame Vicky to you,’ he says with a smile.

‘She flirted with you, you know.’

His eyes widen. ‘She never did any such thing. She was only being friendly.’

My ass, she was , I think. She may be in her seventies but Dame Vicky always had a flirty smile for Raff. She also touched his forearm a lot and said ‘Oh, Rafferty’ so often, we should have turned it into a drinking game.

I snigger to myself. Unknowingly, he’s just warranted me being his wing-woman.

I check the clock – a large disc of blond wood that blends in perfectly with the wall. We’re only a few minutes off when Ava is supposed to arr?—

‘Excuse me, but you’re not saving this for anyone, are you?’

Raff and I both look in the direction of the softly spoken voice. It’s her. God, she is really pretty – way prettier than she seemed in the photos Poppy showed me. About five-six, with a chocolate-brown pixie cut, striking brows that frame almond-shaped brown eyes, and rosebud lips. Apt really, as she reminds me of a young Rose Byrne.

Raff looks between me and Ava – twice – then splutters, ‘Oh no, all yours. ’

Does that reaction mean Raff finds her attractive? I hope so.

Ava smiles at us sweetly, then lowers herself onto the lounger next to Raff’s and reclines, sighing serenely as her chin tips towards the ceiling. We could take a photo of her exactly like that and use it in one of Elysium Elite’s ad campaigns – without having to edit it.

‘Isn’t this place divine?’ she asks, looking over with a smile.

‘Is this your first time at Elysium?’ I ask, leaning past Raff.

‘First, but definitely not the last. You?’

‘First time for us both.’ I lean in closer and whisper, ‘It’s a perk. I’m their marketing manager.’

‘Ooh, nice perk.’ We exchange smiles. ‘And what do you do?’ she asks Raff.

For a pseudo-celebrity who hates being recognised, Ava pretending not to recognise Raff is a slam dunk. No wonder he grins. ‘I work in marketing as well,’ he replies.

Trust him to downplay his big win and omit his career change. He really is hopeless.

‘But not for much longer,’ I tell her.

Raff’s cheeks turn pink. ‘Er, yes. That’s right. I’m becoming a baker.’

If I could, I’d backhand him. There’s modesty and there’s ultimate understatement.

‘Raff recently won Britain’s Best Bakers ,’ I say. ‘The Christmas edition.’

‘Oh,’ she says with a laugh. ‘I should have recognised you. My nan loves that show.’

There’s a beat of silence, then we all snigger, and a middle-aged woman on a lounger across the way shoots us a filthy look.

‘Eek,’ Ava whispers. ‘I’m Ava, by the way.’

‘Rafferty – well, Raff,’ he says, pointing to himself.

‘And I’m Gaby, Raff’s friend.’

Raff’s head snaps in my direction, a scowl passing over his face. I can almost hear him wondering why I clarified that we’re not a couple.

‘So, what treatments are you having?’ she asks.

Raff turns back to Ava, his eyes staying locked on mine until the last second. ‘Er, massages, then a facial.’

‘And pedicures,’ I chime in.

‘But I’m only doing the bits without nail polish,’ he’s quick to add.

‘Sounds fab,’ she says, and we all fall silent.

Say something, Raff , I think, willing him to engage. Maybe me being here is the issue. I should excuse myself.

‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ I state, climbing off my lounger.

Without looking back, I leave the relaxation room and head out into the corridor. I don’t need the bathroom, but I may as well scope it out. If it’s anything like the rest of this joint, including the locker room, it will be something to behold.

It is. It has the same aesthetic as the rest of the day spa right down to the soft, warm lighting. I glance at myself in the mirror and I look incredible in this light – my skin especially. Note to self: buy new bulbs for the bathroom in my apartment. No matter how rested I am, or how good I’m feeling about myself, one glance in my bathroom mirror and I feel like Gollum after a big night out.

I take my time, trying out some of the free toiletries on offer.

Stupidly, I spray two different perfumes onto my wrists and now I smell like a beach birthed a bouquet. I run my wrists under water and rub them together but that only makes it worse.

I check the time. There are clocks everywhere here, so clients arrive at their treatments on time, and it’s been fifteen minutes since I left Raff and Ava. Surely that’s long enough for her to have done whatever it is that Poppy coached her to do?

I head back to the relaxation room and Raff’s there on his own, sitting on the side of his lounger .

‘Where’s Ava?’ I ask.

‘She had her massage. Speaking of, we’d better get going. I was worried you’d fallen in.’

‘Uh, no… I was, uh…’

He sniffs the air. ‘Is that you?’ he asks. ‘A bit strong, Gabs.’

But before I can refute his mild insult, Raff stands, then tightens the sash of his robe. ‘This way,’ he says, leading the way to the massage wing.

I jog to catch up to him. ‘She seemed nice,’ I say.

‘Who? Oh, yes, I suppose. Can I ask… Is that really the done thing?’

‘What?’

‘Chatting up strangers in the relaxation room at a day spa? Hardly very relaxing if you’re having to make small talk, is it? And you left me alone with her.’

‘I went to the bathroom , Raff. It’s not like I left you for dead.’

He stops suddenly and regards me. ‘I know. Sorry. It’s just… Now that we’re here, I’m quite enjoying myself and…’ His eyes flick to the wall behind me. ‘Oh bollocks. Come on, we’ll be late.’

He strides off again and I rush to catch up.

Needless to say, it is not a relaxing massage. How can it be when I spend the entire hour bombarding myself with questions? One prevails, my mind landing on it at least a dozen times.

How can Raff be so clueless?

Especially when he gave us a green light to match him. How can he not have cottoned on that Jane and Ava were plants ? Maybe I need to make a poster – with glitter – and hold it up in front of him:

Potential girlfriend alert!

But he’s so clueless, he probably wouldn’t even get that .