Page 129 of Someone Like You

‘Mmm.’ He frowns, regarding his not-quite-done-masterpiece.

‘Here, here,’ says Dad, rushing in from the garage. You’d think he was carrying the holy grail with how much reverence he places those little round bits of wood onto the countertop.

‘Precisely what I needed.Thankyou, Roland.’

‘You’re welcome, son. Now I’d better get dressed for the wedding, or I’ll be in the doghouse.’ He leaves the kitchen and jogs up the stairs.

I’m not sure why he said that. Mom and Dad don’t have the kind of marriage where he ‘gets into trouble’ with Mom. She isn’t the boss of him the way Aunt Christine is with Uncle Marv. I’m also not loving this new thing where he calls Raff ‘son’. Too close to home.

‘Anddone.’

‘What?’ I’ve been in my head again and I missed it.

Sitting on the counter in front of a beaming Raff is anabsolutely gorgeous, two-tiered, Christmas-themed wedding cake decorated in white and silver. And when we get to Aunt Christine and Uncle Marv’s, Raff will add two dozen white miniature roses, completing the design.

‘Seriously, how did you do that so quickly? I thought you’d need help.’

‘Not to be rude, Gabs, but having you help with something like this…?’ He shakes his head. ‘Besides, it’s the most stressful part but it’s quick.’

‘One of those if-you-overthink-it-you’ll-mess-it-up things?’

‘Precisely.’

‘Well, bravo, and Monica and Brian are going to love it.’

He beams at me.

‘Butpleasego and get into that sexy new suit of yours, or we’ll be late.’

Shit, did I just say ‘sexy’?

Raff’s brows lift and so do the corners of his mouth. ‘Why, Ms Rivera, I didn’t know you felt that way,’ he teases.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

‘It’s a nice suit,’ I reply, my chin lifted. ‘Kudos to your stylist.’

Something flickers across his face, but I can’t discern what it means. ‘Well, my suit thanks you.’ Our eyes lock. ‘And you look beautiful, by the way. I should have told you when you first came in, but I was too far up my arse fretting about finishing a certain cake.’

There’s that self-deprecation again, but that’s not what’s making my jaw hang loose. Raff told me I look beautiful. He’s never said that before – nice, lovely, pretty… But never beautiful.

I remain speechless, rooted to the spot, but Raff either doesn’t notice or decides not to make anything of it.

‘And on the subject of the cake…’ he says, going to the pantry and taking out the plastic wrap. I watch, amazed, as he makes a plastic dome around the cake, the sort of baker’s trick you might see on an Instagram reel. Then he flashes me a grin and says, ‘Back down in a jiffy wearing my sexy suit.’

Fucking fuckety fuck.

I think Raff and I were just flirting.

31

GABY

The time between arriving at Aunt Christine and Uncle Marv’s and the ceremony zips by at the speed of light. Channelling my inner wedding planner, a new-found set of skills I’ll be happy to shelve after today, I’ve barely had time to catch my breath.

Any time I hear, ‘You’ll need to check with Gaby’, I beeline in the direction of the voice and issue a (gentle) command, make a decision, or give praise. Never underestimate how much adults love being told they’ve done a good job.

At T-minus thirty minutes, I go up to Monica’s room to check on the bride. ‘It’s only me,’ I say, knocking on the door as I open it. ‘Oh,Monica,’ I sigh, taking in the sight of my cousin in all her bridal glory.

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