Page 95 of Someone Like You

My chest tightens and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. I could stay and torture myself or…

I opt for self-preservation, slipping out of the bathroom via Issy’s bedroom where she’s still asleep and Monica is on her phone.

‘All yours,’ I whisper, indicating the bathroom. She smiles, then throws the covers back and I head downstairs.

‘Good morning, sweetheart,’ says Dad. ‘Coffee?’ he offers.

‘Yes, please.’ I climb onto a stool at the kitchen counter as he pours from the coffee pot. I never drink this stuff in London – it’s either a flat white or nothing – but there’s something nostalgic about drinking Mom’s favourite, hazelnut drip-filter coffee with vanilla creamer, while Dad empties the dishwasher.

‘So, a big baking day ahead, I hear?’

‘Ah, yep,’ I say unenthusiastically. But it’s only because I’m worried about spending the whole day with Raff.

‘Count yourself lucky – your mom and I are on wedding duties.’

‘What wedding duties?’

‘Your mom’s going with Christine and Monica to pick up the dresses…’

‘Dresses? Plural?’

‘Uh-huh. You haven’t heard about your aunt’s mother-of-the-bride dress?’

‘Nope.’

‘Let’s just say that it’s a little morebridalthan it should be.’

‘Yikes. Though, that tracks. And I guess there must be bridesmaids’ dresses too.’

‘I wouldn’t know, sweetheart, but probably. Anyway, while they’re doing that, Brian, Marv, and I are heading out to Woodinville to collect the wine and beer for the reception. Three different cellar doors and two breweries.’

‘Fun! You’d think $100,000 would include delivery fees.’

‘Youwouldthink that, yes,’ he says, his lips drawn into a taut line.

‘Good morning, hun,’ says Mom. She gives me a quick hug from behind and without being asked, Dad pours her a coffee and doctors it with a generous pour of creamer. ‘Cin cin,’ she says, raising the mug in his direction. She leans against the counter and looks at me over the rim as she drinks her coffee.

‘Your dad tell you what’s on for today?’ she asks.

‘Yup. Lots of wedding shit.’

‘Gaby,’ she chastises. ‘Actually, never mind, it is “wedding shit”. First dresses, then we’re stopping by the florist to check the flower order.’

‘Aunt Gina’s only coming along to stop me from murdering my mother,’ says Monica as she enters the kitchen.

‘Or the other way around,’ quips Mom. ‘And that poor florist. I hope everything’s up to Chrissy’s standards this time.’

Dad, who has taken on the role of resident barista, pours Monica a coffee.

She thanks him, then turns to me. ‘So, what are you up to today?’ she asks.

‘Morning, all,’ Raff says before I can respond. I turn around andhis tall frame fills the doorway. He’s freshly showered – I can smell his spicy cologne from here – and looking handsome in a rust-coloured sweater and jeans –fittedjeans – the new ones. ‘Apologies for the late start. I didn’t mean to oversleep.’

‘No apologies necessary,’ Mom and Dad say in unison, like they’d rehearsed it.

‘You’re on vacation, hun, so sleep as late as you want,’ adds Mom. ‘Besides, jetlag can be killer.’

‘It’s hitting me quite hard, I’ll admit,’ he says. ‘And just watch – the moment I adjust to Seattle time, we’ll be back on a plane to London.’

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