Someone Like You (The Ever After Agency #4)

Chapter 16

16

POPPY

I end the call and set my phone on my desk, then rock back in my chair. ‘Bugger, bugger, bugger,’ I mutter to myself.

I should know better than to say anything out loud that I don’t want George to hear, and he’s at my desk in an instant.

‘Dish.’

‘You’re such a gossip,’ I say, shaking my head at him.

‘ Or I’m simply a concerned colleague and am offering my services.’ He bows dramatically as if he’s in a Regency romance.

I cast a glance at Freya. She seems immersed in a potential’s profile, but even so, this isn’t something I can discuss within cooee of her.

‘Come for a walk?’ I ask George as I stand and put on my coat. ‘I need a coffee,’ I say a little louder, establishing a cover story for our sudden departure from the office – even though I rarely have coffee this late in the day.

‘If you’re buying, always,’ George replies.

A few minutes later, we enter the café on the ground floor of our building. It’s busier than usual, like most places in the lead up to Christmas. Mariah is singing her ubiquitous song and there is tinsel wrapped around everything. Above the counter, there’s a well-loved sign that’s missing one of the Rs and reads, ‘MER Y CHRISTMAS!’

We queue up, George chatting about a Christmas party he’s going to on the weekend with a guy he’s seeing, which reminds me that Tristan and I have his mother’s party this weekend, something I’m dreading. It will be Tris and me drowning in a sea of Helen’s posh friends, making polite conversation until it’s a suitable time to leave.

At least if Helen asks us about grandchildren again, we might have a different answer for her. That is, if I ever broach the topic with my husband. But there are too many other things on my mind right now.

Coffees in hand – a cappuccino for George and a flat white for me – we head to the back of the café and squeeze around a tiny table, perching on even tinier stools.

‘ Now dish,’ says George.

I recount my earlier conversation with Julia, in which she told me it went well and that she really likes Raff, then Freya’s update that Raff feels the same way about Julia.

‘Wait, I’m confused. The match is made, so what’s the problem?’

‘The problem is what Gaby told me on the phone just now.’

As I explain Gaby’s realisation – and my part in it – George’s eyes get larger, and his jaw drops dramatically. He looks absurd and I’d laugh if this weren’t so serious.

‘So, yeah…’ I say, finally taking a sip of my flat white. Only with how unsettled I am, it curdles the second it hits my stomach and I push it aside.

‘Blimey, that is a sticky situation,’ George concludes.

‘Yeah.’

‘And on top of all that, you don’t know how to break it to Freya because she didn’t believe you the first time – about Gaby, I mean. ’

‘Exactly. Wait, I never told you that.’

He tugs on his left earlobe. ‘I was in the office that morning, Poppy. I heard the entire conversation.’

‘Of course you did.’

I look down at the tabletop. ‘George, I feel sick,’ I admit. ‘Either I did my best with the information I had, or I screwed up. And I’m worried it’s the latter.’

We say matchmaking isn’t an exact science and as we’re working with people and heightened emotions and high-stakes situations, there are a multitude of factors that can go wrong in a case. And we’re human and just as fallible as everyone else.

But all that said, we’re experienced and professional, and we’re expected to stay on top of the ins and outs of our cases. Like nimbly handling the romantic feelings of someone who is heavily involved.

‘You couldn’t have known for sure how this would pan out,’ he says reassuringly. ‘Or that the timing would be so… ironic .’

I meet his eye. ‘I spent a decade as a psychologist, George. A decade of analysing the inner machinations of people’s minds and helping them acknowledge their truths. I should have known better. I’m slipping.’

‘You’re not slip— Poppy, you’re not a psychologist any more. You haven’t been for years, and yes, those skills come in handy sometimes, but they’re not the only thing that make you a good matchmaker. If they were, then what does that make me? I’m not a former psychologist – I’m an art school dropout – but I like to think I’m damned good at my job.’

This may be the first time George has spoken so frankly to me and I couldn’t appreciate it – or him – more.

‘Thank you,’ I say, reaching the short distance between us to give his hand a squeeze. ‘Normally it’s Nas who doles out the truth bombs, but you’re right. I can’t be expected to know everything that’s going on inside everyone’s head at any given moment. That’s too much pressure for anyone to bear.’

‘Precisely.’

‘And you are damned good at your job.’

‘I know.’

We share a smile.

‘But I still feel like I’ve made a misstep here, even if it’s forgivable,’ I say, my smile falling away. ‘And now I have a woman who might be in love with her best friend and there’s every chance he’s been successfully matched with someone else. Oh, and my colleague – the one who got me into this mess in the first place – is going to be so upset when I tell her.’

‘Freya will understand.’

There’s silence for a second, then we start chuckling at the same time.

‘Well, she might ,’ he says.

‘Hmm.’

‘But if she doesn’t, she needs to consider that she’s culpable too. She should have trusted your judgement when you first brought it up.’

‘I know. Ugh. Tell me why I agreed to take this case in the first place.’

‘Because you’re a good egg, Poppy.’

‘A good egg bearing bad news.’

‘Was that you trying to be funny?’ he asks.

‘Trying and not succeeding, apparently. Come on, we should get back.’

‘In here, darling,’ Tristan calls out from the bedroom as I close the front door .

‘Be right there,’ I call back. I’m not sure I’m up for a sexy interlude right now, but maybe he’s in there waiting to administer a huge hug.

I drop my handbag on the hallstand, then shrug out of my coat and hang it up and toe off my shoes. The flat smells delicious – Tristan’s famous pasta sauce is simmering on the stove – and on the stereo, Michael Bublé is enticing it to snow.

God, is Christmas really only a couple of weeks away? This time last year, Tristan and I were packing for a quick trip to Tassie so he could meet Mum and Dad and have his first hot Christmas.

This reminds me that I won’t get to see Mum and Dad till Easter when they’re coming here for a holiday. Tris and I haven’t told Saffron that they’ll be taking her room and she’ll have to slum it in ours – a distracting thought that makes me smile before I get too melancholic about missing my parents.

I wander into the bedroom, but Tristan’s not here. I gently push open the door to the en suite and my darling, gorgeous husband is in the tub, surrounded by candles and chin-deep in bubbles. Next to the tub, a bottle of Champagne is chilling in an ice bucket.

‘It’s a Bublé bubbly bubble bath,’ he declares, grinning proudly.

I burst out laughing. ‘You dag, I love you so much right now!’

He reaches over and retrieves the bottle, then pours me a glass of bubbly. ‘Well, come on! The water’s starting to cool down.’

I head back to the bedroom to quickly undress, then return and slip into the hot water. ‘ Oh , that feels divine.’

Tristan hands me a Champagne flute and holds up his. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had another not-so-good day. To a better evening.’

I take a sip, then set my glass on the table beside me. I lean my head back against the rim of the tub and close my eyes, right as Tristan captures one of my feet in his hands and starts rubbing it.

‘Ahh,’ I sigh. ‘Truly, you may just be the perfect man. What did I do to deserve you? ’

‘You saved me from being a miserable, lonely bachelor for the rest of my life. I’m positive I’ve come out on top in this arrangement.’

I crack open one eye and he’s regarding me lovingly. ‘Want to talk about it?’ he asks. All he knows is what I messaged him earlier – that my case has gone sideways, and Saskia and Paloma have scheduled an all-hands-on-deck meeting for tomorrow morning to figure it out.

‘Not really,’ I reply. ‘I’ll know more after tomorrow’s meeting. How was your day?’

‘Not great. Patrick lost twenty million pounds today.’

I sit up suddenly and water sloshes over the side of the tub. ‘What? That’s… Why didn’t you tell me?’

He chuckles. ‘I am telling you.’

‘I mean before, when I messaged that I’d had a shit day, you could have replied, “Me too”.’

‘I didn’t want to worry you, not when you have so much on your plate.’

‘Tristan, you are my plate.’

He gives me a funny look.

‘Well, you know what I mean. No one – and no case – is more important to me than you are. So, when you have a shit day, you tell me, okay?’

‘Consider me suitably reprimanded,’ he replies with a smirk.

I slide back into the water and run my foot along his arm. ‘Sorry for telling you off.’

‘Forgiven.’ He winks.

‘Do you want to talk about it? Patrick’s fuck up?’

‘Definitely not.’

‘Okay,’ I say, reaching for my bubbly and taking another sip. ‘So, what should we get to welcome Baby Sharma?’ I ask, changing the subject to something a lot more fun .

He laughs. ‘Darling, that’s months away.’

‘Yes, but Jacinda has three older brothers – all married – and I want us to be the baby’s favourite aunt and uncle.’

‘Ahh, yes, the winning-the-child’s-love-by-buying-them-extravagant-gifts strategy. That’s bound to work. I know I loved that as a child.’

Tristan’s childhood was vastly different to mine. He had a distant father and a cold and critical mother. No wonder he and Ravi gravitated towards each other at boarding school, becoming lifelong friends at the age of seven.

‘Hmm, good point. I mean, you did turn out okay but?—’

‘ Okay? Such ringing endorsement.’ His narrowed eyes are betrayed by his twitching mouth.

‘You turned out to be the best husband I could ever have hoped for – if I’d ever hoped for a husband before I met you,’ I say, mostly serious.

‘There might be a compliment in there.’

‘Believe me, babe, there is.’

All-hands-on-deck meetings aren’t unheard of at Ever After, but they’re rare enough that I didn’t sleep last night. Well, Saffron doing zoomies at 3a.m. didn’t help, but the main culprit was worrying about how to get this case back on track.

If that’s even possible.

We’re in Saskia’s office – me, Ursula, Paloma, and Saskia. It was decided (not by me) that we wouldn’t bring in Freya until I’d briefed the others.

It’s probably the best approach considering Freya was gushing to me this morning about how much Raff was gushing to her about meeting Julia ‘out of the blue’ .

I’ve just finished explaining where we’re at, including how I ‘interfered’ to tease out Gaby’s true feelings. Fortunately, Ursula backs me on that unreservedly, and there are no admonishments for my chosen strategy. Well, none from my bosses, that is. I’ve been admonishing myself plenty since yesterday.

‘Poppy, has there been any indication that Rafferty might return Gaby’s feelings?’ Saskia asks.

I sigh. ‘As far as I know, none. But I can only go by what Gaby’s told me. I haven’t seen them together, not recently. The last time was months ago at a dinner party at Freya’s – and I didn’t notice anything unusual. They behaved like best friends.’

‘Sask,’ says Paloma, ‘are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

They exchange one of their Saskia-Paloma-mind-meld looks.

‘You’re right – it’s time. Poppy, can you ask Freya to come in, please?’

A couple minutes later, I’m back in Saskia’s office with a confused-looking Freya. She sits on the sofa next to me, then looks between the rest of us, her large eyes even wider than usual.

All I told her was that we needed her in a meeting about Raff’s case.

‘Freya, there’s been a development in Poppy’s case,’ says Saskia.

Freya visibly relaxes. ‘I know! Isn’t it brilliant?’ she asks rhetorically. ‘Third try lucky, right Poppy?’

‘Uh…’

‘Actually, that’s not the development we meant,’ says Paloma. ‘There’s something else, something we need to discuss with you.’

Freya frowns in obvious confusion. ‘Sorry, so you didn’t want to talk about Raff being matched? But I thought…’

I catch Ursula’s eye behind Freya’s back, hoping she’ll explain what’s going on. I feel like I’m too entangled in this case to talk about it sensibly.

I also fear that I’ve let Freya down. If I’d been more insistent when I first suspected Gaby had feelings for Raff, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.

Thankfully, Ursula understands that I’m handing over to her, giving me a slight nod, then placing her hand on Freya’s forearm.

She gently explains the situation to Freya, making it clear that Gaby’s feelings for Raff have come to the fore and are undeniable. As she talks, Freya’s face displays a gamut of emotions from incredulity to amusement to befuddlement.

Finally, there’s acceptance.

She shakes her head at herself. ‘You should have heard Raff on the phone this morning,’ she tells us. ‘He’s so excited about Julia. Apparently, they messaged each other through the night, and they already have plans to see each other on Sunday. And Raff moves fast when he connects with someone. He’s already invested – I can tell.’ Freya slumps further into the sofa. She’s even more upset about this than I expected.

‘So, what do we do about Gaby?’ I ask the group, hoping someone will have a magic-bullet solution.

I’ve always liked Gaby, but over these past few weeks, I’ve got to know her quite well and it pains me to think of her heartbroken because she discovered too late how she feels about Raff.

‘Considering what Julia has told Poppy – and what you’ve just relayed to us, Freya – I suggest we see how this pans out,’ says Saskia.

‘Pans out?’ asks Freya, lifting her head. ‘You mean with Julia?’

‘Yes,’ says Saskia, softening her tone to couch the blow.

‘I agree,’ Paloma chimes in. ‘Julia could be his match, or it might burn brightly for a short while then peter out. It’s a waiting game now.’

‘But what about Gaby?’ Freya asks them, clearly fraught, and I’m with her.

‘We’re not trying to be callous,’ says Paloma, ‘but our primary duty is to our client – Rafferty. If we interfere at this point, we might destroy a match in the making. A reminder that we’re match makers .’

If she was trying not to be callous, she didn’t succeed. Ursula shoots her a pointed look, then turns to Freya, her eyes softening.

‘Freya, consider how Rafferty would feel if he found out you’d interfered, and he and Julia were over before they even started. It really is for the best to see how their match plays out.’

‘I suppose,’ Freya says glumly. She drops her head into her hands. ‘How did I fuck this up so badly? I only wanted to help Raff find love… And now Gaby’s going to be heartbroken. Why did I meddle in the first place?’

I rest my hand on her shoulder to comfort her, a feeble gesture considering how much she’s beating herself up. Ursula and I exchange glances and it’s clear we’re on the same page. The situation is grim.

Eventually, Freya lifts her head and looks at the others. ‘I should probably call Gaby…’ Without another word, she leaves.

‘Well, this is one for the books,’ says Paloma.

‘Ugh,’ I reply.

‘It will all work out as is intended,’ says Ursula confidently. She is decidedly in camp que sera sera .

I have no idea what camp I’m in right now, but I am certain that a Bublé bubbly bubble bath is not going to fix this.