Page 61 of Someone Like You

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 imagininga 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 hadzeroin 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?’

Icouldtell 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 isincrediblyattractive.

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, andnoton 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.Thisis 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.

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