Page 70 of Someone Like You

‘Wonderful. God, with how fast Raff moves, they could be engaged by the spring.’

‘Orit fizzles out before it even begins,’ she says reassuringly. ‘But until we know for sure,pleaseprotect your heart, Gaby.’

‘Protect my— How the hell do I do that?’

‘Just… try not to dwell on things, and if Raff starts talking to you about Julia, maybe change the subject.’

‘So, essentially, take a knife to a gunfight.’

She looks confused. ‘I don’t know that one – is that something Americans say?’

‘It means there’s no way this isn’t gonna suck.’

She gives me a pitying smile. ‘Probably not.’

‘Ugh,’ I groan. ‘Ireallydon’t want to go to CiCi and Devin’s tomorrow.’

This additional realisation lands with so much force, I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. This might be how it is from now on – me avoiding Raff. Well, at least until I get over him.

‘But youhaveto,’ Freya replies vehemently. ‘It’sChristmas. And you know CiCi will have been baking for weeks.’

‘That’s BS,’ I say with a laugh. ‘CiCi always hires a caterer.’

‘Well, there’s her famous Christmas cake – you don’t want to miss that.Pleasecome. It’ll be fun – their parties are always fun. And if Raff corners you to talk about Julia, you can signal me, and I’ll come rescue you.’ She jostles my shoulder. ‘Please, Gaby, please come.’

‘Okay, geez!’ I say, more to shut her up than anything. ‘You’re like Mrs Claus over there with all your Christmas spirit.’

She grins at me and I roll my eyes. I’ll make an appearance, then get the hell out of there.

What is it they say about best-laid plans? I should have known there was no way I could show up to CiCi and Devin’s, then make an exit thirty minutes later.

For one thing, despite the team of caterers who are buzzing around the kitchen, CiCi’s put me to work replenishing a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

Like they do every year, she and Devin have gone all-out – and not only with the generous spread of food and drinks. Their spacious home is decked out in garlands made from real fir-tree branches, each decorated in gold trim, tall pillar candles cover every flat surface, emitting a warm glow, the scent of L’Occitane’s Noël permeates the air, and a roaring fire is crackling in the living room fireplace – above which are hung uniform Christmas stockings (for decorative purposes only). And their next-door neighbours, who perform on the West End, are at the piano in the library, playing and singing Christmas carols.

Thepièce de résistanceis the fourteen-foot Christmas tree dominating the foyer, teeming with every gold decoration in existence.

‘Make sure each blini gets a sprig of dill,’ says CiCi, looking over my shoulder.

‘Yep, no problem,’ I say, expertly placing a delicate frond of dill.

Why am I here again? And not only in the kitchen, but at this party? So far, I’ve steered clear of Raff, but how long can that last?

‘Something’s off with you today,’ says CiCi, leaning against the counter to face me. ‘Are you all right?’

I look up and she’s got the concerned-look-head-tilt combo going on. Ah, so that’s why she’s got me in here – she wants me to spill the tea. Only, I am so not spilling so much as a drop of tea about her nephew. Just, no.

‘Oh… you know,’ I say breezily, ‘winding up at work with end-of-year stuff, planning my trip home… It’s been intense these past few weeks.’

She nods, but I can tell she’s not buying it – a reminder why CiCi is my ‘mom away from my mom’.

‘And is everything all right between you and Raff?’

Good thing I don’t have a mouthful of anything, or I would have spat it out all over these blinis.

‘Yeah, totally. Why are you asking?’

She shrugs with a half-smile. ‘Well, you’re typically joined at the hip at these things, but not today. You also arrived separately, so I wondered…’

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