Someone Like You (The Ever After Agency #4)

Chapter 15

15

GABY

‘What a brilliant night,’ Raff says. If we were in a room, not a town car, he’d be bouncing off the walls. ‘I mean, the event itself was wonderful, of course, but I never in a million years thought I’d meet someone out of the blue like that!’

Out of the blue! Hah! If you only knew.

And given that he recently gave Freya carte blanche to find him a girlfriend, he should know.

‘So, you liked Julia I take it?’ I ask, sending a forced smile across the backseat.

‘Yeah, she’s great,’ he replies, beaming back at me. ‘I’m hoping to see her at the weekend.’

‘But this weekend is CiCi and Devin’s Christmas party.’ Oh shit, is he considering bringing Julia ?

‘I meant Sunday. A bit early for “meet the family”, don’t you think? Even for me,’ he quips.

I smile again, then turn and look out the window. I should be happy for him. He met Julia and they hit it off – exactly as Poppy and I planned. But I’m not happy for him. I couldn’t be further from happy for him .

Which makes me a shitty friend. A shitty friend who’s had a shocking realisation.

As we ride in silence through the mostly deserted streets of London, scenes from the night pop into my head like jump scares in a horror movie.

Raff and Julia laughing, sharing a joke. Julia touching Raff’s forearm and Raff briefly covering her hand with his. Julia asking Raff to help when a tendril of hair caught in the clasp of her necklace. Raff watching her walk across the room when she went to the bathroom, then sighing. Them exchanging phone numbers at the end of the night. Him texting her while we waited for the car.

I witnessed all this firsthand because the second I was called away from Peter the Player to talk about the hotspots of Seattle, he disappeared into the crowd to find a surer thing. I saw him leave twenty minutes later with a petite, dark-haired woman who had balloon lips and eyelashes so long she could sweep chimneys with them.

I tried to leave soon after, but Raff insisted I stay and ‘have a good time’ because I ‘deserved it’. What I deserve is a swift kick up the butt for not realising sooner how I feel. Because I know the signs of Raff falling for someone – I’ve seen them before, dozens of times.

But I’ve never been jealous before.

A sudden wave of nausea crashes through me, and I stab at the button to lower the window, but the switch must be locked.

‘Excuse me,’ I say to the driver, tapping him on the shoulder, ‘could I please have the window down?’

‘Of course, madam.’

The window lowers and I suck in great gulps of the cold night air.

‘Are you all right, Gabs?’ I feel Raff’s hand on my back, patting gently, and I want to flick it away. But it’s not his fault I feel sick. ‘Too much champers, do you think?’

His back patting ramps up and I raise a hand to make him stop – it’s not helping. I focus on steadying my breathing – in through my nose, out through my mouth – and soon enough my stomach settles – well, mostly – and I swallow the build-up of saliva in my mouth, then sit heavily against the seat.

‘I’m okay now,’ I tell the driver. ‘Thanks.’ The window slides up silently.

‘Are you all right?’

I exhale slowly, then shoot Raff a weak smile. ‘Yeah, I’m okay. You’re probably right – too much to drink and not enough to eat.’

This is an outright lie. I only had a glass and a half of Champagne all night. Once Peter disappeared and I became hyper aware of Raff and Julia hitting it off, I switched to soda water and downed so many canapés, the waiters started giving me a wide berth. Raff obviously didn’t notice any of this.

He pats my leg – my bare leg – then rests his hand on my thigh right above my knee. As he stares out the side window, wearing a dreamy smile, I drop my gaze to his hand, mesmerised by his thumb moving gently back and forth.

Raff and I have been close for years and there must have been hundreds of times when he’s hugged me, or grabbed my hand to cross a busy street, or patted my back, or rested his hand on my leg reassuringly.

But this is the first time that I’ve wished it meant more.

And that’s why I nearly vomited out the window.

I have feelings for my best friend – romantic feelings. And like a frigging idiot, I may have realised too late.

When I wake up to my alarm and peer into the pre-dawn darkness, there’s a moment of ignorant bliss before I recall last night’s realisation. Then it all comes screaming back and I roll over and groan into my pillow.

I wish it were Saturday and I could stay in bed all day and wallow. But I’ve got a meeting with the analytics team first thing to review stats on my clients’ holiday campaigns.

The not-so-glamorous side of marketing.

I’m also meeting with Claire this afternoon about the director role. And of course, Raff will be in the office, as he doesn’t finish up until the end of next week.

But at least I don’t have a client event tonight.

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Why don’t I have a cat? If I had a cat, I could curl up with it and tell it all my problems.

Well, one problem.

One big, fat, stinking, stupid problem.

How the hell didn’t I see it sooner? And who the hell am I supposed to talk to about it when one of my best friends is laser-focused on finding Raff a new girlfriend and my other best friend is the problem itself on legs?! I can’t even talk to Lorrie about it, because as close as we are as colleagues, we’re not really friends outside of work.

Poppy. She’s the only person who comes to mind.

I heave out an ugly, ragged sigh, then throw the covers back and get out of bed.

Today is going to suck no matter what; there’s no point in stalling any longer and making it worse by being late.

Even anticipating how much today would suck, it feels like the suckiest day to ever have sucked. And it’s only 11a.m .

My 9a.m. meeting ran long and, despite three out of four of my holiday campaigns killing it and the fourth hitting its targets, I found it difficult to care. My mind kept wandering to last night, and my colleagues had to repeat themselves – repeatedly . I looked like an idiot.

Then after the meeting, I remembered that I left the dress I wore last night at home. A courier was supposed to collect it from the office today and take it back to the designer. Now I’m going to have to cover the cost of the courier myself, which I discovered during a tense call with the designer’s assistant is ￡120. I could have bought my own designer dress at TK Maxx for that.

And in my rush to leave the apartment this morning, I also forgot my gym bag, meaning I can’t work out at lunchtime – and with how busy I am, that makes three workouts in a row I’ve missed. I need my workouts – just as much for my mental health as my physical health. They’re my meditation, when I can switch off my over-active mind and just be .

Also, Claire just stopped by my desk to tell me she needs to bump our meeting up to one, meaning the preparation I’d planned to do between one and three needs to be done now.

Oh, and Freya texted:

Heard from Raff – he liked Julia! And Poppy said it’s mutual! So excited. Thanks again for going with him. *kissing face emoji*

No wonder I’m still feeling queasy.

Is an emotional hangover a thing? Is this how I felt after Eric announced he was in love with Donna and they were getting married?

Maybe. I can’t remember, it was so long ago. I was also a different Gaby back then, full of hopes for the future and imagining a life with Eric. A house in the suburbs, 2.4 kids, a dog, and an SUV – the American dream.

Hah! If we’d got married, we’d be divorced by now. We had zero in common other than we both loved the Mariners. Baseball became the only thing we ever talked about.

‘Gaby!’

I’ve been so lost in thought, I’ve missed that Lorrie is trying to get my attention.

‘Sorry.’ I smile up at her wanly and she frowns back at me.

‘Are you ill? If you are, you should probably go home.’ She eyes me warily, keeping her distance.

‘That’s sweet, but?—’

‘You don’t want to be the person who brought a lurgy to the office and made everyone else sick right before the holidays,’ she adds, talking over me.

‘I’m not sick,’ I reply tartly.

‘Oh, a fun night then,’ she concludes, her demeanour changing in an instant. She perches on the edge of my desk and wags her eyebrows. ‘So? How was it?’

I could tell her the truth, but that would only make this shitshow worse.

‘It was great,’ I say, busting out the biggest fake smile in my arsenal.

Quinn comes over. ‘Gaby, have you seen this? You and Raff on the “Forty Under Forty” website? They’ve posted the photos from last night’s event.’ He holds up his phone and there we are, me and Raff, looking very much like a couple on a date – right down to the matching dress and tie.

Well, fuck.

‘Gaby, are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ says Quinn .

Lorrie steps forward and places a hand on my forehead. ‘You’ve gone pale.’ This is saying a lot because I may have inherited my mom’s boyish figure, but I got my complexion from my dad, who’s Hispanic.

‘I’m fine. I just?—’

‘Did I miss an invite to a team meeting?’

Wonderful, now Raff’s here. He joins the others and all three of them stare at me, Lorrie with her arms crossed.

‘Gabs? Are you ill?’ Raff asks, a concerned frown on his face.

But I don’t want his concern. I want him to go away because – damn him – he looks great. Last’s night’s hairstyle is still going strong, his shirt actually fits him – it must be one of the shirts the designer sent over – and he’s wearing an air of confidence that is incredibly attractive.

He’s hot.

Raff – longtime best friend, who’s been like a brother to me for years – is hot. Fuckety, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I inhale deeply, then smile as serenely as possible. ‘I’m fine,’ I reply. ‘Only I didn’t sleep well last night and I’ve got a packed schedule today. So, yeah…’ I make the can-you-please-go-away-and-leave-me-alone? face.

‘Oh!’ Raff is the first to understand. ‘Sorry, of course, we’ll let you get back to it then.’

He shepherds the others away, but Lorrie stares at me over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. She knows something’s up, but I don’t have time – or the mental space – to worry about Lorrie right now.

It’s hard enough trying to wrap my brain around how ‘Just Raff’ transformed into ‘Hot Raff’ overnight.

I need to focus, and not on him.

If my discussion with Claire goes well, I may be offered the role without having to formally apply for it. I slide my laptop closer, navigating to the shared drive and pulling up the data on my holiday campaigns. As I read through the figures again, ‘work mode’ kicks in and the queasiness and all the errant thoughts of Raff start to subside.

This. This is what I need to get through the day – focusing on work. Focusing on work while trying to ignore the little voice in my head that’s wondering what Poppy will say when I give her my news.

I’m guessing she won’t be pleased.

I guessed right. I’ve dropped my bombshell and Poppy’s gone quiet on the other end of the call. Never a good sign when someone is completely silent after you tell them something important. I start pacing the small meeting room.

‘Poppy?’

‘Sorry – I was processing what you said. Does Raff know?’

‘How I feel? Ah, no. No, I barely worked up the courage to tell you, let alone bare my soul to Raff the day after he meets his dream girl.’

‘Okay. So, when do you plan on telling Freya?’

Argh! I was hoping she’d break it to Freya.

‘I don’t… I don’t know how,’ I reply.

‘Gaby, she’s your bestie. You have to tell her – and as soon you can. She’ll understand.’

‘That’s just it. I don’t know that she will. What if she’s pissed at me? It’s shitty timing.’

‘The timing’s… yeah, it’s not great.’

Understatement of the year.

‘But consider this…’ she continues. ‘If last night hadn’t ha ppened, maybe you never would’ve realised how you feel about Raff.’

‘Are you saying some things happen for a reason?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Because I don’t really believe in fate or that que sera sera crap. My dad does – he’s a total romantic – but I didn’t get that gene.’

‘Gaby, you’re waffling,’ she says, calling me out.

‘Yeah, I know. What if you told her?’

‘I already tried, but she didn’t believe me. Bugger. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘What do you mean you already tried?’ I ask.

She sighs heavily. ‘You remember the screening?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

‘Well, I suspected something back then – Ursula did too.’

‘Wait,’ I say with a wry laugh. ‘You’re saying you knew before I did? But how? Am I that readable? Oh shit – do you think Raff knows?’ I screech.

‘I said we suspected . Based on how oblivious Raff can be about this sort of thing, I doubt he knows. And Freya discounted the possibility entirely.’

This is all too much. The screening was weeks ago. That means people have been talking about me and how I feel about Raff for weeks now. Well, my suspected feelings.

‘Ugh,’ I groan.

‘Gaby, I need you to take a breath.’

‘Easy for you to say. This is humiliating .’

‘I can understand how it must feel that way. Look, I’m going to have to discuss this with my colleagues and determine what happens next. Actually, it might be best if you hold off on telling Freya for now.’

‘I wasn’t going to tell Fr— Never mind.’

‘Just wait until you hear from me, okay? ’

‘Okay. Poppy, I really am sorry.’

‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ she reassures me, but I don’t agree. I should have seen it sooner. How did I not see it sooner? ‘Hang in there and I’ll be in touch,’ she says.

‘Thanks,’ I say glumly, and we end the call.

Hang in there. But how ?