Page 87 of Someone Like You

Her expression softens and she sets the knife down. ‘I just figured… well, you two are best friends and I know you’ve shared rooms in the past.’

She’s referring to theone timeFreya, Freddie, Raff, and I went to Spain for a long weekend and they’d overbooked the hotel, so Raff and I had to share a room. But we each had our own bed. And it was nearly a year ago – as inwaybefore Raff was anything more to me than a friend.

But there’s no point in splitting hairs. This is a big house, but my dad’s study is off-limits because he takes calls at all hours of the day and night. And since I moved out to go to college, my parents have slowly let the guest room deteriorate into a catch-all junk room. You can barelymovein there, let alone lay down an air mattress.

This means Raff and I are either sharing a room, or I need to find decent-but-not-too-expensive accommodation in Seattle – a week before Christmas. Hah – unlikely!

‘It’ll be okay. Now do you really need my help with dinner, or can I go shower now?’

‘I don’t need help, but it’s nearly ready so if you’re showering, be quick.’

‘You know you could have eaten earlier, Mom.’ My parents usually eat around seven. ‘Raff and I could have fended for ourselves.’

‘No way! You’re only here for seven nights. I’m making the most every second before you leave.’

‘We literally just got here and you’re already talking about us leaving?’

She ignores me, instead grabbing me by the shoulders. ‘Shower.’ She spins me towards the door, then pats my butt like she used to do when I was a kid.

‘Is this your way of telling me I stink?’ I call out over my shoulder.

Her high-pitched laugh follows me upstairs where I find Dad giving Raff the nickel tour.

‘This is the door to the bathroom,’ he says. ‘It’s a Jack-n-Jill you’re sharing with Monica, so take it from a man who has lived with women for the past thirty-eight years, it’s always a good idea to knock.’

‘Noted,’ says Raff with an amused smile.

‘So, that’s about it – and help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen.Mi casa es su casa.’

‘Thanks, Roland.’

‘Oh,’ he says, pausing next to me. ‘And don’t let me catch you trying anything with my daughter.’

‘Dad!’ I exclaim, horrified.

He laughs and Raff joins in, so I do as well – even though inside I just died a little.

Dinner is delicious but by nine, which is 5a.m. London time, I’m totally wiped and so is Raff. There’s staying awake to acclimate to a new time zone and there’s the torture of (essentially) staying up all night in your thirties.

Monica gets up to clear the table, and Mom fends off our feeble offer to help with the dishes.

‘No need,’ she says. ‘You two get some rest and we’ll see you in the morning.’

I send Raff up first to shower and get ready for bed.

‘Do we have anything planned for tomorrow?’ I ask.

‘We’re decorating for Christmas,’ Dad declares excitedly, and it suddenly dawns on me that there’s not a single Christmas decorationin or on the entire house. This is very strange – my parents usually start decorating the day after Thanksgiving.

‘Wait, you guys didn’t hold off because we were coming, did you? Because that’s sweet but you didn’t need to do that.’

They exchange one of their married-forty-years-and-we-can-communicate-telepathically looks.

‘Only partly,’ says Mom. I narrow my eyes at her, and she turns to my dad. ‘You take this one.’

‘We’ve just had a lot going on, sweetheart. Franchising has taken on a life of its own – we’re launchingeightstores down the west coast next year, instead of five…’ My dad owns World Emporium, a gorgeous store in downtown Seattle that imports fairtrade goods, mostly from Central America.

‘And your mom’s busier than ever at the hospital…’

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