Page 20 of Someone Like You

‘Why didn’t you say anything? How hard is it to type out, “Hey, guys, wrong chat thread!”?’

He shrugs, his laughter dying down. ‘Look, even before those messages, I knew. You think I blindly lurch from relationship to relationship, seeking love.’

‘I do not. Notblindly– more likehopefully.’

‘You’re splitting hairs,’ he retorts, and we’re both quiet for a moment.

I note that Greta allows us to talk – not interrupting our conversation, but observing it. If it’s a tactic, then kudos to her, as she’s gaining quite a lot of insight simply by being quiet.

‘Wait,’ I say, something occurring to me. ‘Whyhaven’tyou dated anyone new since Winnie?’

He shrugs. ‘Well, when a woman ends your relationship the day you’d planned to propose to her, you start wondering if you’re just rubbish at choosing who to love. And when your closest friends confirm it in a chat thread…’

‘Raff, I’m so sorry. We totally fucked that up, but it comes from a place of love, I promise.’

‘I know. That’s why I didn’t say anything.’ He looks over at Greta. ‘You should probably know that Freya is a matchmaker,andshe wants a crack at matching me.’ He chuckles good-naturedly, shaking his head.

Greta and I exchange a look and I catch the excitement in her eyes. Raff has unwittingly circled back to the one question we need a definitive answer to.

‘And is that something you’d be open to?’ she asks evenly.

This is it – the moment that will determine if we’re going ahead or calling this whole thing off.

Raff looks her straight in the eye and says, ‘Well, she can’t be any worse at it than I’ve been…’ He gives a half-hearted shrug. ‘So, why not?’

OH MY GOD!

Raffdoeswant to fall in love – with the right person this time – and he’s willing to let Freya (well, Poppy) match him.

Greta smiles, then drops her eyes to her notes and scans the page. ‘You know, I think we have enough here to leave out your romantic status,’ she says, following Poppy’s ‘script’ to the letter. ‘Especially if I shift the focus to your upcoming career change.’

‘Really?’ Raff asks. ‘But just before, you said… Sorry, I’m confused.’

‘That’s my fault. I know what I said, but I’ve changed my mind. We don’t need it.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ says Raff with a relieved sigh. ‘I really hadn’t intended to be so… well,openabout all that. In hindsight, it was a bit daft of me.’

He’s right. If this were any other interview and hewasmy client, I would have stepped in and shut down that line of questioning.

‘And it will certainly make my life a lot easier if all and sundry aren’t showing up at my doorstep to court me,’ he says with a laugh, ‘especially in light of what else is going on in my life.’

‘I completely understand,’ she replies, smiling warmly.

With that, Greta wraps up the interview, and we have our big, fat green light.

‘You did great,’ I tell Raff on the ride home.

‘Until I told her how pathetic I am – Rafferty the Lovelorn,’ he says ruefully.

I look across at him. ‘You’re not— Why do you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Put yourself down like that.’

He shrugs, his eyes fixed out the front window. ‘Habit, I suppose.’

I wish there was a way to make him see himself the way others do. Not the sex-symbol stuff – that’s just media hype and the masses romanticising celebrity – but howwesee him, the people who know and love him.

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