Page 102 of Someone Like You

‘Yes, girls, here in Seattle,’ says Mom pointedly. She rolls her eyes, which is very un-Mom-like, but after the day she’s had, she must be over everyone and everything.

‘Does that mean we might have a white Christmas?’ Raff asks hopefully.

‘No,’ we all say in unison, and Raff looks between us, confused – or it could be disappointment.

‘It doesn’t stick,’ says Mom.

‘Well, it rarely sticks but when it does, most of the city shuts down,’ says Issy.

‘Seattle gets snow so rarely that we don’t have the infrastructure to handle it,’ explains Dad. ‘Not enough snow ploughs, not enough gritters. And the ones they have are used on the highways and to clear streets around hospitals and emergency services.’

‘Plus, Seattle is hilly as fuck,’ adds Issy. Mom throws her a disapproving look for the profanity.

‘Oh dear,’ Raff replies, ‘I can see how that would be… well, problematic.’

His eyes dart towards Monica and so do mine. She doesn’t seem fazed, which is impressive considering how difficult it would be to host a wedding for a hundred and fifty guests if no one can get anywhere. I catch Raff’s eye and shrug.

‘Well, fingers crossed then,’ he says, dropping it.

‘Are we drinking this in here or the living room?’ Dad asks over his shoulder.

‘Living room!’ Mom declares. ‘I need to relax.’

Dad pours eggnog into mugs and sets them on a tray, and takes them into the living room while Issy forages in one of the cupboards for a small platter, then piles cookies onto it. She picks up a fruit mince pie and sniffs it, then mutters, ‘Hmm,’ and adds a few to the platter.

‘Raff, can you please take this into the other room?’ she asks him with a smile.

‘I’d be delighted to,’ he replies, and I stifle a giggle. Sometimes Raff is so English.

Mom is about to follow Dad and Raff, but Issy grabs her by the arm and pulls her, me, and Monica into a messy huddle.

‘What?’ I ask her. ‘You’re being weird.’

‘Mom, did you know Gaby has a thing for Raff?’ she whispers hurriedly.

‘Issy!’ I hiss.

‘You do?’ asks Mom, wide-eyed.

‘Iknew,’ says Monica. ‘It’s kinda obvious.’

‘It is not…’ I expel a ragged breath. ‘Look,’ I say in a hoarse whisper. ‘I don’t have feelings for Ra?—’

‘You just told me you did,’ says Issy.

I scowl at her. ‘You are the worst sister in the world.’

Mom snorts. ‘I beg to differ,’ she scoffs. ‘Chrissy’s taken that title.’

‘I think Raff feels the same way,’ Monica tells Mom,reallynot helping the situation.

Mom gawps at her. ‘He does?’

‘No,’ I insist. ‘He doesn’t – he’s seeing someone – a tall, blonde, curvy goddess,’ I add. Surely the contrast between me and Julia will lend weight to my argument.

‘But you two would be so great together,’ whines Mom, something like pity in her eyes.

Unable to bear it, I break eye contact and glare at Issy. Just because her love life is in shambles doesn’t give her the right to charge headlong into mine, stirring up drama.

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