Page 97 of Someone Like You

‘Wowser,’ he says, breathless.

He strides ahead, crossing the park to the railing, then scans the entire skyline from downtown, past the Space Needle, along the waterfront with its converted shipping sheds – now mostly hotels and trendy bars – across to the working port, which is like a giant Meccano set, over to West Seattle, then to Puget Sound where the lush, green Orcas Islands are nestled and the ferries running between them and the city look like toys. It’s a clear-ish day, meaning it isn’t raining but high clouds blanket the sky, hiding Mount Rainier from view.

‘You wouldn’t know it, but there is ahugemountain right there,’ I say, pointing in its direction. ‘Wait, let me show you.’ I take out my phone and search for some pics of the mountain in all its glory to show Raff.

‘Wowser,’ he says again, looking from my phone to the view and back again. ‘It’s completely hidden.’

‘Yup.’ I pocket my phone. ‘So, what do you think of my hometown?’ I ask. ‘And, yes, I am fishing.’

‘It’s incredible, Gabs,’ he says, still staring at the view. ‘And I’d say it’s probably more so at night. From up here, I mean.’

‘Definitely. And look,’ I say, pointing at the top of the Space Needle. ‘This time of year, they make a Christmas tree out of lights.’

‘Can we come back tonight and see it all lit up?’ he asks, his eyes meeting mine.

‘Yeah, sure,’ I reply as casually as I can.

Sure, Raff, let’s come back to the romantic lookout after dark and gaze at the city lights. Why the hell not???If I don’t bring it up, maybe he’ll forget about it.

‘And where would Frasier’s flat have been?’

‘Huh?’

‘You know, from the television show. I know it was shot in a studio, but his view of the city was incredible.’

I can’t help it – I crack up laughing, a full-on ha-ha-ha laugh, and poor Raff looks confused. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘But it’s a running joke here in Seattle – that view doesn’t exist. Not unless the building he lived in was right over there.’ I point to the middle of Puget Sound where a ferry is crossing to Bainbridge Island.

‘You mean, in the middle of the water?’ he asks, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘But that’s…’ He chuckles. ‘And all this time I had this picture in my head…’

‘Don’t worry. A lot of people do – apparently, tourists show up all the time wanting to go see the view from Frasier’s apartment.’

He shakes his head at himself.

‘Come on,’ I say. ‘Metro is only going to get crazier by the second. Might as well get it over and done with.’

Only I forgot who I was going grocery shopping with.

‘Iloveshopping in a foreign country,’ says Raff, unable to tear his eyes away from the assortment of cake sprinkles. ‘I mean, some of this stuff you’d only find in a specialty shop back in London.’

‘Hashtag America,’ I say, making a feeble joke.

‘Absolutely,’ he replies, missing the joke entirely.

We only have a short list – Mom and Dad have a fully stocked fridge, freezer,andpantry – but we’ve already been here forty-five minutes. Although, that includes the fifteen minutes we spent in the wine section. Despite reminding Raff that my parents haveseveral dozen cases of wine stored under the stairs, he insisted on adding three bottles of French Champagne to our cart.

‘No, Gabs! They’re a gift from me to your family,’ he said when I tried to put them back. ‘A thank you for having me. And it’s Christmastime – that always calls for Champagne.’

There was a sad, kind-of lonely pleading in his eyes and then it hit me –hard. I told him the other night that my parents are his parents, but it’s more than that. This Christmas,we’rehis family.

I placed the bottles back into the cart. ‘That’s super sweet, Raff. Everyone will love it.’

He grinned, the tension from his shoulders falling away as he followed my directions and manoeuvred the cart towards the baking section.

Now, as I watch how entranced he is by sprinkles, I chastise myself.

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