Someone Like You (The Ever After Agency #4)

Chapter 25

25

GABY

As is the tradition in my family when one of us has good news, we’re celebrating my promotion with Dick’s – the best burgers, fries, and shakes in Seattle. My parents grew up on Dick’s, and so did Issy and I.

Dad, who’s old school, runs around with a pad and pen and takes our orders. Even Monica knows what she wants without looking up the menu.

But it’s clear that Raff’s overwhelmed by the selection of burgers and shakes we’re shouting out. Dad must pick up on it too. ‘You can come with me and decide what you’re having when we get there,’ he tells Raff.

And I am all for Dad taking Raff out of the house, so I can deal with the not-so-surreptitious looks my mom keeps giving me.

‘Bye!’ I say, closing the door behind Dad and Raff. The second they’re gone, I beeline back to the living room. ‘Mom, you’ve got to stop that.’

‘Stop what?’ she asks, and I can’t tell if she’s being coy or legitimately doesn’t know what she’s been doing.

‘You’re acting all weird about Gaby and Raff,’ says Issy .

‘Yeah, Aunt Gina. It’s kind of obvious,’ Monica agrees.

Mom looks between Issy and Monica, then at me. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was doing that. I’ll…’ She lifts both hands, then lowers them as she exhales loudly, indicating she will chill. I fall onto an armchair, relieved but also suddenly exhausted.

‘Can I just ask one thing?’ says Mom.

‘Mom!’ chides Issy.

Mom ignores her, fixing me with an intense look. ‘How will you know he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings if you don’t tell him how you feel?’

‘I don’t. But even if I wanted to, I’m not supposed to tell him.’

‘What?’ Mom is obviously bamboozled. ‘What do you mean, you’re not supposed to?’

‘Does this have anything to do with the matchmaker?’ asks Issy.

‘What matchmaker?’ asks Mom, her eyes getting even bigger.

‘If we weren’t having Dick’s for dinner, I’d be making popcorn,’ quips Monica, her eyes alight with intrigue.

I heave out a sigh and explain about the Ever After Agency and Raff’s case, concluding with, ‘So, I need to see how it goes with Julia. And that’s that,’ I add as an afterthought – more for myself than the others.

‘That’s that?’ asks Mom, peeved. ‘I don’t accept that explanation, Gaby. What if he’s secretly been in love with you all this time but he has no idea how you feel, and he ends up with Julia by default?’

‘Yes, Mom, that is exactly what is eating me up inside. But I’m in a bind here. Because if he doesn’t have feelings for me – hidden or otherwise – then I could fuck up our entire friendship.’

She presses her lips together, a frown settling on her face. But then her expression softens, and she offers a weak smile of concession. ‘Okay, Gaby. I’m sure you know what’s best. But sharing a room… ’

Before we can go down that rabbit hole, Issy’s phone rings loudly. We all look at her and every muscle in her body tenses.

‘That’s Jon’s ringtone,’ she says hoarsely.

‘Do you want some privacy?’ asks Mom, rising from her chair.

Issy forcefully shakes her head. ‘I’m not answering.’

The four of us are silent as we wait out the ringtone and I study Issy’s tortured expression the entire time. Today, she’s been her old self – joking around, poking her nose into my business, chatting with Raff, but it’s all been an act.

She’s really hurting. And I didn’t see it. Not only have I been a shitty friend to Raff, I’m also a shitty sister.

I go to Issy, kneeling in front of her chair, and enclose her in a tight hug. She starts weeping and the only sound for some time is her sobs. When they diminish, I keep my arms around her, but draw back slightly and look to Mom.

Her lips have disappeared between her teeth and silent tears roll down her face. It must be incredibly painful for her to see Issy like this.

‘Sorry,’ says Issy through her tears.

‘You don’t have anything to be sorry for,’ I tell her, something echoed by Mom and Monica.

‘I was feeling so much better today,’ she says, looking up at me with her red-rimmed eyes. ‘I told myself, “This is for the best.” I mean, it hasn’t been good with Jon for years , so…’ She shrugs.

Years? I think. My sister’s been unhappy in her marriage to Douchebag for years ? God, I never want to end up in that situation.

She wipes under her eyes with her fingertips, and I scout around for tissues. Monica rushes over with a box and I offer it to Issy. She takes three and noisily blows her nose.

‘Hun,’ says Mom with a sniff, ‘we can talk about it some more if you want? Should we go upstairs?’

Issy nods, then bites her lower lip like she used to do when she was a little kid. ‘Thanks, Mom.’ She wipes her nose again. ‘Oh,’ she says, as if something’s just come to her. ‘But what about Dick’s? I want Dick’s.’

A heavy pause hangs in the air, and I press my hand to my mouth to stop myself laughing. Issy breaks first, and when Dad and Raff arrive home, they’re met with four women laughing so hard, we all have tears in our eyes.

‘Gabs?’ whispers Raff. ‘Are you awake?’

Despite Mom’s concern about my sleeping arrangements, I deliberately dodged any plans to rearrange them, laying low for the rest of the evening and letting Issy take the lion’s share of parental attention.

After dinner, in the kitchen, I overheard Mom filling in Dad in about Douchebag’s phone call. A few minutes later, back in the living room, as Issy was listening to Monica tell the gory story of Aunt Christine’s bridal shop meltdown, he leant down and silently pressed a kiss to the top of Issy’s head. She grabbed his hand, and they exchanged a father–daughter look so steeped in meaning, it brought tears to my eyes.

So many tears tonight – and so much laughter. Raff has certainly been exposed to the full spectrum of Rivera Family madness.

But in the darkness, as I stare at the wall across from me where snapshots from high school and college surround the mirror above my old dresser, I debate whether to answer Raff or pretend to be asleep.

Sleep – hah! Impossible when Mom’s words keep rolling through my mind on repeat.

What if he’s secretly been in love with you all this time… ?

Curiosity wins. ‘Hmm?’ I moan, pretending I’ve been yanked from the brink of sleep.

‘Sorry – I didn’t mean to wake you.’

I roll over and face him, scootching backwards so we’re not nose to nose. ‘It’s okay. Can’t sleep?’

‘No. Monkey brain – can’t stop thinking.’

I prop myself up on my elbow, assuming the role of best friend. ‘What’s on your mind?’ It could any number of things, but if he says, ‘Julia,’ then it’s going to be very difficult not to abandon him and go sleep on the sofa.

‘It’s… Am I doing the right thing?’

That doesn’t clarify matters. ‘About?’ I ask, my voice strained.

He expels a long breath and flops onto his back. ‘This is going to sound terrible.’

‘Raff – what ?’

‘It’s just… Can I preface by saying I really am happy for you – and you totally deserve the promotion…’

Ah, right. I get it now.

‘But it’s made you question whether leaving to work with CiCi is the right thing.’

‘Yes.’ He turns to me again, and in the dim light of the electronics charging either side of the bed, I can see his eyes are filled with doubt.

‘Hey…’ Instinctually, I reach for him, grasping his arm and sliding my hand down until it holds his, and he grips it as though his life depends on it. ‘It’s okay, Raff. But this is your dream, remember? You’re going to do amazing at Baked to Perfection. Think of all the joy you’ll bring to cake lovers everywhere. And you’re going to get paid to bake cakes – epic, out-there cakes,’ I say, a lilt of laughter in my voice. ‘How many people can say that?’

His brows raise momentarily, his expression shifting to one of consideration. ‘True. ’

‘You also get to hire a team, mentor up-and-coming bakers, build out a division – from scratch. And eventually, it will go national. You live for that shit,’ I say.

He chuckles softly. ‘You’re right. I do – as you say – live for that shit.’

‘And you’re great at it.’

‘Thanks.’

We share a smile.

‘I suppose it’s natural to have doubts,’ he says. ‘It’s a big change.’

‘Absolutely. I’d be worried about you if you weren’t having doubts. Doubts mean you understand the stakes. And this decision is high stakes, so it makes sense that you’re scrutinising it from every angle.’

‘Really?’

I don’t know, Raff. I’m just making this shit up in the moment , I think.

‘Of course.’

Then he does something that may be my undoing. He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. ‘Thanks, Gabs,’ he says, his eyes boring into mine. ‘You really are the best friend.’

Heart: Swoon. Tingles. Kiss me.

Libido: Kiss me everywhere. Then do whatever else you want with me.

Head: He said ‘friend’, Gaby. Get a grip.

‘And, actually, Julia said something similar when I last spoke to her.’

I gasp. I can’t help it. The mention of her name – especially in this moment – is like a sucker punch to my gut.

Confusion flickers over his face. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ I murmur, stretching my mouth into the fakest smile since Melania at the 2017 Inauguration. ‘I’m glad Julia agrees.’

He gives me a warm smile, then with a pat on my leg, says, ‘ Good night, Gabs.’ He rolls over and I do the same. This time when the tears come, they’re for me.

I am in love with my best friend. And he’s falling for someone else.

I know I agreed to the see-how-it-goes-with-the-blonde-bombshell plan, but it’s way harder than I expected it to be.

Tomorrow, I’m letting Mom rejig the sleeping arrangements. I can’t do this any more.

After a restless night, I climb out of bed a little before six, leaving Raff to sleep, and go downstairs still in my PJs.

Mom and Dad are in the kitchen, having a hushed conversation over the rims of their coffee mugs, Dad on one side of the kitchen counter and Mom perched on a stool opposite him.

‘Good morning, sweetheart,’ says Dad. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Yeah,’ I lie.

Mom catches my eye and I can tell she’s scrutinising my bloodshot eyes and dark circles. I don’t even have to look in a mirror to know they’re there. I know exactly what I look like after a shitty night’s sleep.

‘Coffee?’

Dad pours without waiting for a reply and slides the mug across the counter. I take it gratefully. ‘Thanks.’

I sip from the mug, then sit on the stool next to Mom’s.

‘So, you know that snow we were expecting?’ asks Mom with a wry smirk.

‘I’d forgotten about that, but yeah.’

‘It stuck,’ says Dad.

My eyes fly to the kitchen window but it’s pre-dawn and all I can see is darkness. I get up and cup my hands against the window, so I can see out. The back yard is blanketed in white, my parents’ outdoor furniture forming large white lumps on the deck. I grin, then turn back to them.

‘Maybe we will have a white Christmas!’

‘You might be missing something,’ says Dad.

Then it hits me. ‘Oh, shit! The wedding.’

‘Mm-hmm,’ says Mom.

‘Fuck, Aunt Christine is going to freak.’

It’s telling that my first thought was of my aunt – and not the bride and groom.

‘Yep,’ says Mom, adding a weary sigh. She didn’t even pick me up for swearing – this is really bad.

‘Wait – it could melt, though, right? Before tomorrow?’ I ask.

‘KOMO news says no,’ Dad replies. ‘There’s more snow expected today and for the next three days. And Sea-Tac is restricting the number of flights in and out for the foreseeable future. Only one runway is open.’

‘So, yes to a white Christmas,’ says Mom, ‘but it’s unlikely this wedding is going ahead.’

‘ What? ’

Monica is standing in the kitchen doorway, a stricken look on her face.

‘Oh, hun,’ says Mom, climbing off her stool. ‘I’m so sorry – we were going to find a better way to break it to you than that.’

‘Break what? What’s happened?’

‘Hey, did you guys see outside?’ asks Issy, coming up behind Monica.

‘Outside?’ Monica rushes to the window and like I did a few minutes ago, cups her hands against the window and peers out into the darkness. ‘Well, fuck.’

She turns back to us, her jaw slack and her eyes unfocused.

‘It could melt,’ says Issy, obviously trying to be helpful .

‘Ah, no, sweetheart,’ says Dad gently. ‘More snow’s expected.’

‘We’ve just been watching the news and most of the city is shut down,’ Mom adds, her eyes locked on Monica.

‘But Brian’s parents are flying in today – from Kansas,’ she says, latching onto one of probably dozens of wedding details flying around her head.

She snaps out of her stupor and looks at my mom. ‘Oh my god. Mom is going to freak .’

I’m about to tell her I said the exact same thing, but the landline rings – a jarring sound in this age of ubiquitous cell phones.

‘That’ll be Chrissy,’ says Mom, rushing to answer it. ‘Hi, Chrissy,’ she says, not even glancing at Caller ID.

The sound of my aunt’s howling fills the kitchen and Mom takes the handset away from her ear, her face contorted.

‘Oh, Chrissy, it’ll be okay,’ she says, but the howling only pauses long enough for my aunt to wail, ‘How?’

Mom turns away from us. ‘We’ll figure something out… I know, hun. Yep… Mm-hmm… Yeah, it’s devastating. I know…’

The rest of us listen to this one-side conversation, exchanging glances. My aunt does know this isn’t her wedding, right? Shouldn’t she have called Monica to see how she’s doing instead of calling my mom?

‘You need to come over. Does Marv have chains for his truck?’ asks Mom. ‘Okay, well, you’ll have to walk. You’ve got hiking boots – put them on and get over here… Chris, it’s only three blocks… Because we’ve got a full house and it’s easier for you two to come here… Okay, see you in a bit.’

Mom ends the call and turns back to us.

‘So, that was your mom…’ she says to Monica, and I can’t tell if she’s saying that to be funny. Regardless, Monica starts laughing the maniacal laughter of a bride the day before her wedding in the midst of a Snowpocalypse.