Page 85 of Someone Like You

‘Just a technicality, right Raff?’ he asks.

‘Absolutely,’ replies a transparently jetlagged Raff, stifling a yawn.

‘You’ll get it, sweetheart,’ says Dad, doubling down on his fatherly reassurance.

I hope so.

Raff has done a stellar job as marketing director, creating a team culture of thinking outside the box, but there’s a lot more we could be doing with emerging tech. It will take some convincing to get established luxury brands to agree, but I want to try. I raised it with Claire in our meeting and from what I could tell, she’s also keen. I took that as a good sign, mentally crossing my fingers that my suggestion would be the decider and she’ll appoint me to the role.

Dad asks Raff about working with CiCi and despite being exhausted, Raff perks up and talks animatedly about the plans he has for launching a new division of Baked to Perfection, creating a range of high-end specialty cakes.

There’s a particular swooping curve of the 509 I’m waiting for, and when we get there, I reach forward to tap Raff’s shoulder, interrupting him.

‘Look.’

Seattle comes into view, lit up in the distance like one of those Christmas villages people have in their living rooms over the holidays.

‘Oh, wow,’ he says, and Dad and I exchange satisfied smiles in the rearview mirror. ‘I had no idea it would be so…pretty.’

‘Yeah, it’s a tech hub, the birthplace of Grunge, and has the worst weather in the world?—’

‘Hey now,’ says Dad, stepping in to defend my hometown.

‘But Seattle sure ispurdy,’ I finish with a southern twang.

Conversation stalls while Raff gawps out the window and I see Seattle through fresh eyes –hiseyes. It is a beautiful city and it’s good to be back but, oddly, this doesn’t feel like a homecoming. More like a visit.

‘Here we are,’ Dad says as we pull into the driveway of their two-storey Queen Anne home twenty minutes later. ‘Welcome to the madhouse,’ he adds.

‘Dad!’

He chuckles, the deep timbre of his voice resonating through the car.

He helps get the bags out of the trunk, and soon the three of us, plus two suitcases and two carry-ons, are standing in the entry.

‘Gina! They’re here!’

‘You’re here!’ says Mom, bursting through the door from the kitchen. She heads straight for me, grabbing both my hands and holding out my arms so she can get a look at me. ‘Even more beautiful than the last time,’ she says, tears in her eyes.

‘Mo-om,’ I drawl as she envelops me in a hug. Every time I visit, and the few times she’s been to London, she greets me the same way. But with Raff standing right behind me, it’s the first time I’ve been embarrassed.

She releases me, then reaches up to hug Raff. ‘And even more handsome than the last time.’

‘Hi, Gina,’ he replies. His cheeks flush, so at least I’m not alone. ‘And thank you so much for having me.’

‘Oh, it’s no trouble at all,’ she says with a flap of her hand.

‘Raff, want to help me get these upstairs?’ Dad asks, indicating our suitcases.

‘Happy to.’

Just then, my cousin, Monica, appears at the top of the stairs. ‘Gaby!’ she exclaims.

‘Hey!’ I reply, brightly. I hadn’t expected Monica to be here. I glance at Mom, trying to catch her eye, but she and Dad are exchanging an unreadable look.

Monica flies downstairs and flings herself into my arms. ‘I amsoglad you’re here,’ she says in my ear.

I give her a squeeze, then let her go and introduce her to Raff, only now noticing that she’s in her pyjamas. My mind leaps to the obvious conclusion.

---