Page 72 of Someone Like You

‘Isn’t that the most romantic thing ever?’ asks Freya, who is unexpectedly at my side. ‘I adore Freddie, really I do, but I’d die of shock if he ever made such a grand romantic gesture.’

This is the first time Freya has disparaged Freddie in this way, instantly making me want to defend him. I must like him more than I realised – probably because he’s so sweet to her.

‘Have you told him that you’d like him to be more romantic?’ I ask. ‘You’re, like, the biggest romantic I know – surely you’ve at least hinted?’

She shrugs, which is Freya for ‘no’.

‘You know Freddie would do anything for you. Why don’t you just tell him what you want?’

‘Because I shouldn’t have to. We’ve been together over a year – doesn’t he know me well enough to figure it out on his own?’

So, she’s expecting Freddie to guess what’s in her head, which isunfair and could eventually undermine their relationship. I suppose even a matchmaker doesn’t always get it right.

‘Frey,tellhim. You’d be honest with him if there was something more he could be doing in bed, right? How is this any different?’

Freya’s eyes widen in horror. Oops, I’ve crossed a line. In many ways, we’re as close as sisters, but we’ve never been the type of girlfriends who discuss our sex lives. If I need to talk about sex, I do that with Issy or my mom.

‘Sorry,’ I say, and she shakes her head as if she’s trying to dislodge something.

‘Have you seen Raff?’ she asks, abruptly changing the subject.

‘Not since Devin’s speech.’ I scan the room again and festivities have resumed, but no Raff. Something feels off.

‘Come on,’ I say. ‘Let’s go find him.’

Freya and I do a whole circuit of the ground floor before we find Raff and CiCi in the conservatory, one of the few places in CiCi and Devin’s home that doesn’t scream ‘tasteful opulence’. It looks like it was furnished with cast-offs from the set ofThe Golden Girls:a wicker two-seater and matching cane chairs, the cushions covered in a palm-leaf motif, a circular rattan rug on the floor, and more plants in terracotta pots than in most greenhouses.

I’m about to knock on the open door when Raff says, ‘It’s fine, Aunt CiCi, Ipromise.’

Only it doesn’t seem fine – whatever ‘it’ is. Despite the brave face, Raff is obviously distraught. And it’s rare to see him like this – shy, embarrassed at being the centre of attention, sure, but not riled up. He’s usually unflappable.

That’s why he’s the rock of our trio.

‘Hey,’ I say, stepping into the room, Freya close behind me. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Ah, love,’ CiCi says to me. ‘I had no idea Devin had gone and booked that trip. Andhehad no idea that you two were goingabroad. He thought Raff would be sorted – have a friends’ Christmas.’

‘Oh no, Raff!’ exclaims Freya. ‘You’ll be all alone.’

‘It appears so, yes,’ he replies tautly.

‘I’d invite you to come to Sweden with me,’ says Freya, ‘but we’re staying with my dad’s cousin and I’ll be sleeping in a tiny bedroom in a child’s bed. I wasn’t even able to ask Freddie.’

‘No, no, I wouldn’t want to intrude anyway.’

‘How about you come with us?’ CiCi offers. ‘We can see if there’s another room available in the lodge.’

I can tell that Raff considers it, but only for a second. As upset as he is, there’s no way he’d gatecrash his aunt and uncle’s romantic getaway.

He fakes a smile. ‘I’m sure Uncle Devin would have something to say about that, don’t you?’

Speaking of…

‘Here you all are,’ says Devin.

‘We’re hardly hiding, darling,’ says CiCi, still frowning.

‘Sorry, lad,’ he says to Raff with a pained expression. ‘I suppose I can see about changing the trip to the New Year…’

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