Someone Like You (The Ever After Agency #4)

Chapter 13

13

GABY

‘Wow, that’s a bit forward, following me like that,’ Raff mumbles to himself.

I glance over and he’s on his Instagram account – his personal one, not the one set up by Britain’s Best Bakers ’ social media team.

‘Who’s following you?’ I ask, knowing it’s got to be Ava.

‘The woman from the spa – Ava.’ He holds up his phone to show me her profile. Well, at least he’s shown enough interest to check it out , I think, but he immediately goes back to his main feed and starts scrolling with his thumb.

I swallow my frustration. ‘Why is it forward of her to follow you? You had a conversation – she’s not some rando, Raff.’

‘I suppose,’ he says thoughtfully, then he barks out a laugh. ‘You do realise that’s twice in as many weeks that a perfect stranger has accosted me with questions.’

Seriously? How is he not getting this?

‘So?’ I say, my patience stretched thin. ‘She seemed nice.’

‘Why are you so stroppy all of a sudden?’ he asks.

I regard him closely, going back and forth on what I should – and shouldn’t – say to him. I could come clean and shout, ‘You were supposed to ask her out, you idiot!’ but instead I reply, ‘Because I was all relaxed and Zen and now we’re packed into public transit, and I already feel like I need another massage.’ It’s the truth – just not the whole truth.

Raff puts his phone in his jeans pocket.

‘No doubt their usual clients make their way home lolling about on the backseat of town cars.’

He’s smirking at me, and I nudge him gently in the ribs with my elbow. ‘You’re teasing me.’

‘A little bit.’

I lean against him, and he switches to holding on with his other hand, then wraps a reassuring arm around my shoulder. He knows how I feel about crowded trains and buses and the Tube (which also goes underground – the horror). I can never fully relax until I’m above ground, on terra firma, and free and clear of the crowds.

A crowded bar? Fine – I can take myself outside if I need to. But crowded PT? I’d rather stick a fork in my eye. And in the lead up to the holidays, it’s worse than ever.

Only three more stops until Kingston , I tell myself.

‘So, what did you two talk about while I was in the bathroom?’ I ask.

‘This and that. She’s a veterinarian.’

That’s all he found out in fifteen minutes? Raff doesn’t need a wing-woman; he needs a wing- squadron .

It looked so easy on the show – how well he got along with the other contestants. And he’s great with clients – super charming. So why is it that when it’s one on one and he just needs to be himself, his communication skills fly out the window? He was a pink-faced, spluttering mess when Ava first joined us at the spa.

God, is that how he is on first dates? If it is, then it’s a wonder he’s dated as much as he has. Although, it’s likely that many women find him charming simply because he’s not a cocky asshole who’s only out for sex.

If it weren’t thwarting our efforts, I’d find it endearing how royally he’s botched these meetings – first Jane and now Ava.

‘Much on for the rest of the day?’ he asks. ‘Hot date?’ he adds.

I shake my head. Who has time for dating this time of year? The last date I went on was in October, and it was over nearly before it started. He was one of those guys who only dates so he can flex. And I mean that figuratively – he couldn’t stop talking about himself – and literally. I lost count of the number of times he adopted some sort of pose and tensed his biceps.

I got out of there after one drink. Even if I could have put up with his annoying personality for a hookup, there’s no way a guy like that is anything but selfish in bed.

‘Hardly,’ I reply, steering clear of the gory details. ‘I feel like I haven’t dated since the Nixon administration.’

‘Huh?’

I glance up at him. ‘Stupid joke. Never mind.’

‘You know, you really should put yourself out there more, Gabs. You’re an attractive woman, clever, accomplished, kind … Any bloke would be lucky to have you.’

Oh, the fucking irony , I want to shout across the train carriage. Instead, I blink at him, wondering for the umpteenth time how he can be so clueless. He’s got Alicia Silverstone beat a thousand times over.

Poppy

I’m waiting at Ursula’s desk when she comes in.

‘Good morning, Poppy. ’

‘Good morning. Have you much on today?’

She pauses a moment, her lips tensing, highlighting my ‘fatal’ error. I’m so keen to discuss Raff’s case, I’ve jumped on her the second she’s arrived.

‘I’ll give you a minute.’

‘Mm-hmm,’ she murmurs.

I scamper back to my desk and plop into my chair, reaching for my phone. Gaby’s message is still on the screen.

Well, he did it again. Raff the Oblivious reigns supreme. Ava is a no-go even though I left them alone to talk. Nice gal and very pretty but no date. *shrug emoji* We did have a nice day at the spa. *smiley face emoji* So what’s plan C? *thinking face emoji*

Plan C is I take Raff by the shoulders and give him a shake.

No, that’s not fair. As far as clients go, I have had far bigger challenges. My own husband comes to mind. Pre-me and a clause in his grandfather’s will requiring that he marry before his thirty-fifth birthday or lose his inheritance, he was anti-relationships, anti-marriage, and vehemently anti-love.

Of course, matching myself with a client is a one-time-only thing.

Maybe our whole approach is off. Maybe Gaby’s right and we should wait until the New Year then regroup. Or we’re upfront with Raff about what we’re doing and ask him (nicely) to fall into line. I certainly don’t want to keep frittering away solid potential matches because he’s so oblivious to what’s going on.

I look over at Freya, who’s at her desk chatting animatedly on the phone. How likely is it that I can convince her to put this case on hiatus for now?

I re-read Gaby’s message a third time – not even the slightest hint of hesitation on her part. She seems 100 per cent all-in on matching Raff, but…

It’s rare that I am completely off-base when intuiting someone’s true feelings – the same for Ursula, who’s far more experienced at matchmaking than I am. So, I’m not abandoning my suspicions just yet.

‘I’m free now, Poppy,’ says Ursula.

‘Great,’ I say. ‘I’ve booked us a meeting room.’

Once we’re in the meeting room – my favourite one that looks out over the Thames – I quickly take her through our two failed matches. Even though her expression remains mostly static, tension in her jaw belies her calm exterior.

While we match around a third of our clients the first time, most of the others match with the second potential. It’s rare that we need to move further down the list – in this case, to our alternate, Julia.

‘It sounds to me like it’s the set-ups that are the issue,’ she says. I refrain from mentioning that happenstance set-ups were her idea. I need her onside. ‘Perhaps he’s one of those people who does better in a group,’ she adds.

‘Could be,’ I say hesitantly. ‘But Gaby says he hates being the centre of attention.’

‘That’s it exactly. In a group, he doesn’t have to be the centre of attention. He’s simply one of many. You know, when I saw him on Britain’s Best Bakers ?—’

‘Oh, I didn’t know you were into that. Tris and I love it.’

She gives me the Ursula equivalent of a smile. ‘It’s one of Richard’s favourites, but I quite like it too. Anyway, if you’ll remember, when Rafferty was amongst his fellow bakers, he was friendly, charming, so chatty – a total natural.’

‘You’re right.’

‘Perhaps that’s where he thrives. ’

‘On a TV show? I don’t follow.’

‘No, I mean when he’s amongst others, when the spotlight isn’t entirely on him – it’s shared with other people.’

‘Ahh, interesting.’ As I consider her hypothesis, I walk over to the window and glance out at the Thames. It’s a grey day with light drizzle and the river is a dull greyish-brown and flowing sluggishly. I turn and face Ursula, then lean against the windowsill. ‘So, when he’s been approached by these two potentials – first at the food safety course and then at the day spa – it was a one-on-one engagement…’

‘Putting Rafferty in the spotlight of sorts,’ she says, building on my point.

‘So, he’s in the spotlight, it makes him uncomfortable, which means he misses all the signals that these women might be interested in dating him.’

‘That would certainly explain how he can be a serial dater and a deer in headlights when he’s approached out of the blue,’ she says.

‘Because when he’s dating, he’s in control. He may not feel completely comfortable – at least not right away – but he’s there by choice.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So how do we bottle that Raff? How do we get the affable, chatty Raff to meet potential number three?’

‘This is Julia, right? The artist?’ she asks.

‘Yes.’

‘Can you bring up her profile?’

I go back to the table and pick up my tablet, then navigate to Julia’s profile. ‘What am I looking for?’

Ursula holds out her hand and I give her the tablet, then go to the other side of the table so I can read over her shoulder.

She scrolls the screen, stopping intermittently to read, then taps the screen three times with a scarlet fingernail. ‘There. Look. ’

‘She’s on London’s “Forty Under Forty to Watch” list,’ I say.

‘One of my clients was on the list in 2018. They always have a meet and greet – a cocktail party – the first week of December. It’s late notice, but if we could snaggle Rafferty an invite…’

‘Ursula! That’s brilliant. I could kiss you!’

‘Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That invitation might be hard to come by.’

‘But we must know someone at Forty Under Forty, surely? Let’s raise it at the staff meeting and see.’

‘Good idea. Paloma’s bound to know someone.’

‘Good news,’ I tell Gaby when I call her after work. ‘You and Raff are going to the “Forty Under Forty to Watch” cocktail party on Wednesday night.’

It took a dozen phone calls and most of the day, but we did it. We brought Ursula’s inspired idea to fruition.

‘Wait, what? But I’ve got drinks with the people at MouMou that night.’ MouMou is an established luxury handbag label – they must be one of her clients.

‘Can you make an appearance and duck out early? Or send someone in your place?’

She’s quiet for a moment, then sighs. ‘Obviously, this is about Raff – matching him, I mean – but…’ Her words trail off, reminding me of Freya. ‘Poppy, you do this for a living, but I’m really not cut out for this kind of thing – especially after the spa day. Can’t Freya go with him?’

Her hesitation is warranted, I’ll admit – this case has put a lot of pressure on her – but is it also evidence of Gaby wanting Raff for herself?

‘I’ll ask Freya,’ I reply .

‘Thanks,’ she says, her relief obvious. ‘And how are you planning to get Raff to show up?’

‘He’s going to receive a personal invitation from the director herself. She’s an old school friend of Paloma’s – you know, our head of client relations.’

Gaby chuckles. ‘We really are in entirely different spheres, aren’t we?’

‘Says the woman who hobnobs with designers,’ I quip.

‘That’s work .’

‘So is this.’

‘And it’s not hobnobbing ,’ she continues, ignoring what I’ve said. ‘It’s putting on my one designer cocktail dress and making small talk all night – and at a MouMou party, that will be with wannabee influencers and C-list celebrities. The only benefit is that the booze will be top shelf – oh, and their goodie bags are the apex predator of goodie bags.’

‘Yeah, doesn’t really sound like my scene,’ I say. ‘Even with the goodie bags. But do you know what does sound fun? A fancy cocktail party for London’s forty most fabulous people under forty!’

‘Nice try, Poppy. Ask Freya – she can go with him. That’s if Raff agrees to go.’

‘Okay,’ I say, letting her off the hook – for now. ‘I’ll let you know how it goes.’

‘Thanks.’

We end the call and I tap my phone against my chin.

Freya’s onboard with my wing-woman strategy, even if she doesn’t know its additional aim is to unearth how Gaby really sees Raff, so I’ll elicit her help.

I want both Raff and Gaby at that event.

Not only did Paloma have to call in a slew of favours to secure the invitation, but it’s exactly the type of occasion that could lift the veil from Gaby’s eyes. They’ll both be dressed to the nines, it will be festive as well as fancy, and Julia is a very attractive and charming woman. If Gaby can witness Julia’s charm offensive and not want Raff for herself, then her feelings for him are most likely platonic and nothing more.

Before packing up for the day, I send a quick message to Freya, explaining what I need from her to ensure Raff and Gaby go to the Forty Under Forty event.

As I gather my belongings and put on my coat and scarf, I look around the office. Only George is still at his desk – everyone else has gone home, as it’s now past six – so he’ll lock up when he’s done.

‘Bye, George, see you tomorrow.’

‘Bye, Poppy.’

‘And don’t stay too long.’

He chuckles at that. Like me, he often disregards the agency’s culture of clocking off at five. But it’s not always possible – especially not when you have a high-stakes case like this one and you’re prepping three cases for the New Year.

That means long days, as well as being on-call evenings and weekends.

I really do hope we employ another agent soon, ease some of the burden on the five of us. But it’s not the sort of role that gets advertised on job sites.

As I step out into the darkness and head towards the Tube station, I can’t help but wonder how compatible a baby would be with the life of a matchmaker.

Not very, is my guess.