Page 121 of Someone Like You

‘Just that it’s lovely how we’ve known each other for years and are best of friends, yet we still have things to learn about each other.’

I stop myself from howling with ironic laughter.

We still have things to learn about each other.

Indeed, we do, Rafferty. Indeed, we frigging do.

29

GABY

‘I think that’s everything,’ says Raff, checking the contents of the cart.

Through a minor miracle, Trader Joe’s is not wall-to-wall people two days before Christmas – must be something about a city-stopping snowstorm – so we’ve zipped through the aisles in less than thirty minutes.

‘Everything in thestore?’ I tease. ‘I’d say that’s accurate. You do realise we have to lug all this home?’

‘Oh, sorry,’ he says, being ultra-English – i.e. needlessly apologetic. ‘Perhaps we should ask your dad to come and get us.’

I smirk at him. ‘I’mkidding. It’s going to be an incredible cake, Raff. Monica and Brian are going toloveit. I still can’t believe you’re making fondant from marshmallows. You’ve got mad skills, dude.’

‘Well, yes, but do we have too much to carry?’

‘We’ll cope,’ I deadpan, then I lose it and grin at him.

‘Oh, so youarejoking.’

‘Yes.’

‘Gaby?’

There’s a surreal moment in which the world seems off-kilterand somewhere in the depths of my heart, a hairline fissure painfully cuts through my contentedness. I inhale sharply and the fissure swells – fracturing, gaping, morphing into a chasm. Then I’m sucked backwards, as if I’m being swept into a black hole. Only instead of being consumed by a giant vacuum, I plummet through time, landing eight years ago with a vicious thud.

I turn – seeing the store through a slow-motion lens – and there he is. A thirty-four-year-old version of the only person who has ever broken my heart.

‘Eric,’ I state, my voice flat and raspy.

‘Oh my god, Gaby. Itisyou.’

His face – older now – wears a mask of a smile and his voice cracks on the second syllable of my name like a teenage boy whose voice is breaking.

Beside me, I sense Raff stretch to his full height, a phenomenon so rare, we’re bound to see a leprechaun any moment now. Raff’s hand finds my waist, and he draws me towards him protectively. I numbly place my hand over his, and our fingers entwine.

‘Wow, you look great,’ says my ex.

Either his definition of great has dramatically shifted or I’m seriously pulling off this North-Face-meets-the-Michelin-Man vibe.

‘Hello. Rafferty Delaney.’

Raff takes a half-step forward, his hand outstretched. As his other hand is cemented to my waist, I’m tugged forward with him.

Visibly shaken, Eric stares at Raff, then his eyes flick towards me. Finally, they land on Raff’s outstretched hand. We all know he has no choice but to shake it, and he does.

‘Uh… Eric,’ he says. ‘I’m?—’

‘Honey, are these the ones?’

Donna appears in the aisle with a toddler in tow, so pregnant she looks like she might give birth any minute now.

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