The Last Plus One

by Ophelia London

He took a step closer. “You have been thinking about me.”

  Claire bit the inside of her lip. She needed to be smoother about this. “Maybe. Or maybe you have a gigantic ego.”

  His eyes twinkled. “True.”

  Claire paused. “Which one?”

  “Both.”

  She laughed before she could help herself. He made her laugh. He made her feel sparkly and pretty even in no makeup, a sweatshirt, and grungy pants. He made her want more.

  “I’m Claire.”

  “Hello, Claire.” He offered his hand. “I’m Tom.”

  Tom. The name bounced around inside her body like a pinball. She liked his name. It was solid, straightforward, warm. She liked his hand wrapping hers, too. It was solid, straightforward, warm.

  “So how’s school going?” he asked. “You like your communications classes?”

  She allowed herself a small smile. “You remembered my major.”

  “Um. Well, yeah.”

  “Because you’ve been thinking about me.”

  That got him a little flustered, which was a more than a little satisfying. Good to see that she wasn’t the only one feeling fluttery. “What are you reading?” He gestured toward the book in her hand.

  She didn’t have to look down. “The Collected Works of Giuseppe Salvador.”

  “Is that, like, Pinocchio?”

  It took Claire a second to figure that one out. “No. Giuseppe, not Geppetto.”

  “I’ve never heard of him.”

  Now Claire did look down at the book and rub her thumb across the well-worn pages. “He’s not well known. He died at an early age, but his words inspired everyone from Allen Ginsberg to Eminem.”

  “I want to read him.” Tom’s voice was low and stoked the fluttering embers at the base of her throat.

  “Here.” She held the book out before she could overthink it. “I’ll let you borrow it.”

  Their hands overlapped when he took the book from her. Was she mistaken, or did his touch linger on the back of her hand for longer than it should? He flipped through some pages and paused when something caught his eye and made his Adam’s apple bob. There were some racy parts to that book, Claire remembered. Maybe he was reading one. Maybe he liked it. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

  Tom’s lashes swept up and his gaze caught her. “You know what this means.”

  Now it was Claire’s turn to swallow hard. This was it—she was about to be humiliated.

  “We’ll have to see each other again.”

  “Wh…what?”

  “Unless you want to give me your PO box to return this?” Tom smiled down at her, and had he gotten closer in the past few minutes? He felt closer and she felt warmer, and the way he was looking at her, Claire knew for sure that…

  “Oh good! You found him!” Laurel’s voice rang out through the dorm lounge.

  Tom’s head jerked up. “Laurel!” His voice was rough, and was he a little out of breath? Surely not; he’d just been standing there talking to Claire.

  “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

  “You look great. That dress is… Wow.”

  Claire took a step back from both of them. Laurel was in Claire’s dress, a loose black number that was probably chosen because the navy couldn’t zip up around Laurel, who was broader in the back than Claire.

  Laurel’s sunny smile lit on Claire. “This is Tom, the guy from Bar Harbor I was telling you about? The one I used to spend summers with?”

  Claire managed to nod. Vaguely she remembered the stories, but Laurel’s description hadn’t included his sly humor, his sexy, crooked grin, or the electric charge he threw out anytime a female over the age of sixteen entered his vicinity.

  “How long have we known each other?” Laurel asked Tom. “Twelve years?”

  “A long time,” Tom said, looking down at the floor.

  Laurel laughed. “We Ramseys are super loyal. If people stick with us, we stick with them.” She smiled at Claire. “You’re so amazing to keep him company for me.” Laurel looked to Tom next. “Isn’t she amazing? I have the best roommate.”

  “No problem.” Claire forced a brittle smile onto her face. “That’s what roommates do.”

  Memories from college came flooding back and Claire blinked back tears. An old, childish refrain rose up in her throat: It’s not fair. She’d let Laurel have Tom without a fight. Looking back now, it was too easy to see that she’d swallowed her bitterness against Laurel and spit it out at Tom. Almost immediately, she’d started picking fights with him, as much to prove to herself as to Laurel that she didn’t want him, that it didn’t bother her at all to be the third wheel when Tom came to study in their room, when they’d run out for coffee or a slice.

  Claire had been the best friend that Laurel could ever hope to have. For years, she’d made sure that Laurel Ramsey was happy. Now it was time that Laurel made Claire happy.

  Chapter 16

  Tom had found her, taken her hand, and led her onto the dance floor mere seconds after Laurel and Tyler’s dance ended. Claire bit her lip as he wrapped his arms around her and began to spin them slowly. While she had explicitly instructed the band to play an up-tempo song after Laurel and Tyler’s first dance to an Adele ballad, a slow song settling into Tom’s body felt awfully nice. She’d chew the bandleader out at some other point in the evening.

  “So…” she began.

  “So…” he echoed.

  “Did you like the wedding, Dawson?”

  A mischievous gleam lit his eyes. “Very much.”

  “You liked the flowers.”

  “I did.”

  It seemed unlikely. What straight man was an authority on floral arrangements? Luckily, the way Tom was looking at her, as if he was imagining her as naked as she had been last night, put away any thoughts on that score. Speaking of being naked, Claire wanted to get into that condition again, as soon as possible. She slipped back into Jasmine La Quinta mode. “Do you want to get together later?” She lightly stroked the lapel of his tuxedo. “When your groomsman duties are done?”

  “I can go right now, but you have a toast to give.”

  Claire made a small noise of frustration, which made Tom cock his head at her. “You don’t want to?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Janine’s been making passive-aggressive comments about it. Like the entire Eastern Seaboard is going to crack and fall into the Atlantic if a bridesmaid and the maid of honor give toasts. That woman hates me.”

  “She’s just jealous of your wit, intelligence, and extreme sexiness.”

  Which was the perfect thing for him to say to get her mind off Her Most Annoying Janine. “Have I told you how much I enjoy not fighting with you?”

  “All these years, and all I had to do was compliment you.”

  “It wouldn’t have hurt.” Claire sniffed. “Especially when it’s all true.”

  Tom chose that moment to spin her around, and she caught sight of Maggie and Laurel disappearing behind a door. Crap. She needed to talk to Laurel, and Claire’s topic of conversation was way more important than whatever housekeeping matters Maggie had to discuss.

  The upcoming potentially uncomfortable convo with Laurel reminded Claire that maybe she shouldn’t be clinging to Tom this way, at least not in public. Not before she could explain the situation to Laurel. So when Tom pulled her tight again, she put a palm on his chest and gently pushed away.

  His eyebrow lifted. “Did I step on your toes?”

  “No, just…” Claire looked around to make sure Laurel wasn’t watching. “Maybe we shouldn’t make a scene. Draw attention away from Laurel and Tyler.”

  Tom cast a pointed look at another couple practically fornicating on the dance floor, but he let her have that extra four inches of space. “Speaking of space,” he started with a shy smile, “do you know when you’re going back to New York?” He rushed on before she could answer. “I thought maybe I could come to visit. Or maybe we should talk about that. You know, what happens…after.”r />
  “Let’s not talk about this right now, okay?”

  Tom pulled away and stared at her shoes.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Just checking. Last time you said you couldn’t talk about something you said it was because of your shoes.”

  People were staring at them, the couple standing still in the middle of the dance floor, while the band started the opening chords of “Electric Boogaloo.” “Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t talk because this is a private conversation, we’re in a very public place, and I have to give a toast in twenty minutes.”

  He grabbed her hand, pulling her closer, back into the dance. Goosebumps rose on her arms at the intensity of his gaze. “Is that it, Claire?”

  “Of course.” She yanked her hand back. She wanted to have that talk with Tom, but they needed time, and privacy, and a chance to focus on them. After all these years, they deserved more than to hash out the parameters of their relationship within ten feet of nearly three hundred nearly intoxicated guests in formal wear.

  To show him how she felt, Claire leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Meet me at the pool house after the cake is cut and I’ll show you the bad side of Jasmine La Quinta.”

  She brushed her lips against his cheek and felt a thrill as she walked away. Finally, she was going to have it all—as soon as she could talk to the bride. And to the mother of the bride. And find someone who owned a plane.

  Chapter 17

  Claire hustled a big ball of white satin and tulle into the bathroom and shut the door. The ball of tulle sighed dramatically. “Oh, Claire, how did you know? I’ve been dying to pee but I couldn’t ask anyone to help me!”

  Claire closed her eyes and swallowed her frustration. She hadn’t pushed Laurel into the bathroom to help a bride lift up her massive skirts, but whatever. One more act of selfless friendship and then she’d be able to finally—finally!—tell Laurel what she should have said years ago.

  After the business was done, Laurel reached for the tap to wash her hands. Claire slapped the hot water off and was met with Laurel’s shocked eyes. “I have to talk to you,” Claire said.

  “Is this about Tom being in love with you?”

  Now it was Claire’s turn to be shocked. “What?” she squeaked.

  Laurel hopped up and down and clapped her hands. “He told me the other day. I’m so happy for you!”

  Claire shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. “He said…he’s in…”

  “Love!” Laurel sighed. “My two best friends together after all these years. I told him it was romantic.” Laurel paused and her eyes widened. “That was you two! In the hot tub last night! Janine was right! Oh!” She hopped again. “Oh. My God!”

  Claire’s head spun and she leaned on the bathroom cabinet. “You’re okay with that? You’re not mad?”

  Laurel scoffed. “Of course not! You guys had one night together seven years ago and you deserve another one!”

  “Did Tom tell you about that too?”

  Laurel lifted a suggestive eyebrow in the mirror as she went to wash her hands. “Well, not everything. That’s your job.”

  A dark, sticky feeling crept into Claire’s stomach. Telling Laurel everything was…uncharted territory. “I’m sorry, Laurel.”

  “For what? Tom said it happened after he and I broke up. What could you possibly be sorry for?”

  Claire took a deep breath. “Do you remember, at the start of freshman year, you would tease me about a guy I met at the freshman mixer?”

  Laurel frowned and then realization dawned on her face. “Science guy? Tom was science guy?”

  “Nothing happened with him. You got him first, and I would have never tried anything—”

  “This is awful!”

  The dark stickiness in Claire’s gut turned rock solid.

  “He was just my safety boyfriend from Bar Harbor!” Laurel cried. “And obviously you two have something amazing, otherwise you both wouldn’t be whining to me about each other ten years later!”

  “But—”

  “No but!” Laurel looked really upset, and now Claire felt guilty. Why had she done this now, during Laurel’s wedding day? She couldn’t have waited a day, a week? “You can’t wait anymore, Claire, not for love. You have to grab it now, while you can, while you’re young and healthy and have a life in front of you. You want to have babies, don’t you?”

  “Whoa.” Claire threw up a stop-sign hand. “I don’t—”

  “Of course you do! Or maybe you don’t, but you don’t want to wait if you do!” Laurel grabbed Claire’s hand and clutched it tightly. “Tom and I were never in love. I knew that. He was safe, he was easy, he was a good friend. He was a date to Grandpa’s fundraisers and someone who always brought me coffee during finals…” Laurel’s eyes widened. “Come to think of it, he always brought my roommate coffee too. Her favorite soy cinnamon cappuccino.”

  Claire remembered. She had always thought it was Tom trying to suck up to Laurel.

  Laurel went on. “And you always ordered sausage and mushrooms on our pizzas.”

  “Because I knew he’d come over and eat the leftovers anyway,” Claire grumbled.

  Laurel smiled slowly. “Because you knew he liked sausage and mushroom pizza. And you were a vegetarian.” Her face turned thoughtful. “So why just the one night? Don’t tell me it was because of me.” Claire shrugged, but Laurel wasn’t letting it go. “Tell me, Claire.”

  “It was the night before graduation. I went to a party in his dorm.”

  Laurel’s brows pushed together. “Where was I?”

  “Spending the night with your family at the Plaza.”

  “Ah.” Laurel made an encouraging gesture. “And then what?”

  “Tom was there. The party was lame, so I grabbed a couple of beers to take back to our suite. He asked me if I wanted to watch a movie.”

  “Let me guess. Best in Show?”

  “How did you know?”

  “You guys always watched that movie. I never got what you thought was so funny.”

  Claire shook her head. “No, you and I would watch it, then Tom would come over and watch it with us.”

  Laurel laughed softly. “I can’t believe I never saw this coming. All that time, you guys were meant to be together. I thought you would put that movie on before Tom came over just to avoid talking to him. Little did I know you were using it as bait and waiting for the one night where you could get naked with the dog movie on.”

  “I was drunk,” Claire said. “I never meant to—”

  “Oh, come on, you totally meant to.”

  “He was your boyfriend!”

  “Not then!”

  Of course Tom hadn’t been Laurel’s boyfriend any longer, and Claire knew it, because she’d slept with him.

  She’d known too that it had more than a one-night stand for him. It had been in his touch, the way he had made her feel precious and strong.

  “I think you were scared,” Laurel said, jerking Claire out of her memory.

  “Scared of what?”

  “Scared of your feelings, of Tom’s feelings, of my feelings. Scared that you had wasted four years hating someone that you shouldn’t have.” Laurel hesitated before saying the next part. “You don’t like to admit that you’re wrong. And I think if you admitted that you liked Tom all along you would have had to tell the world that Claire Portelli wasn’t perfect.”

  Wow. Claire’s head spun. Laurel was ninety percent right. But there was something Laurel didn’t understand.

  Graduation Day, The Plaza

  “Mom!” Claire wrapped her arms around her mother. “I didn’t expect to see you until later!”

  Cyndi Portelli clutched Claire’s chin in her hand. “Mrs. Ramsey invited me up early for the party. And what is going on with your hair? You look like you just rolled out of bed!”

  Claire had just rolled out of bed—out of Tom Harrington’s bed. She’d grabbed a coffee and headed straight to the subway and to
Laurel as if there was homing beacon strapped onto her best friend’s head. Claire had to tell her everything, get it all out in the open.

  Except now her mom was here and apparently the Ramseys had invited other friends to a pre-graduation brunch and… Claire stopped dead in her Nikes.

  There was Diana Cooper, impossibly thin even in a white tweed jacket. No one looked thin in white tweed. And here Claire was, with coffee breath and subway shoes and postcoital hair, like she was some backwoods Pennsylvania tramp.

  Laurel came over to give her a hug next. “Diana told Mom that she’s offering you a full-time job!” she whispered in Claire’s ear. “Act surprised!” She squeezed Claire’s hand, and Claire was overcome with gratitude and love. Everything she was getting was because of her friendship with Laurel. How could she betray Laurel’s trust?

  She then saw herself through her mother’s eyes. More than an Ivy League diploma, this evening Claire would carry all of her mother’s hopes and dreams across the stage. For eight years, she and her mother had worked for a bigger, brighter life than a dead-end small town. How many times had Tom talked about wanting to move back to Bar Harbor? The two went together like duck boots and rain.

  Claire shook her head, hating the heavy curls that tangled down her back. There could be no future with Tom Harrington, not in his flannel world, his small town. Not without betraying the people she loved the most.

  Laurel had been right. Claire had been scared of the consequences of her actions. But Tom had been right on the beach. She was strong enough to make her own choices, her own destiny. And now, she was going to take some really big steps.

  “Tom and I have to work some things out,” Claire said.

  “That’s an understatement.” Laurel smiled. “But the good news is, he’s super in love with you.”

  “He told you that?” Claire didn’t know what to make of the competing emotions when Laurel said the L-word. Fear, joy, confusion, it was all there, making her feel mixed up and indecisive—emotions she didn’t normally feel.

  Laurel’s excited hop and clap and sudden hug was her answer. Tom had apparently shared his deepest feelings about Claire to his ex-girlfriend and not to Claire herself. It didn’t seem like a normal course of relationship events, but when had she and Tom ever done things the normal way?