One Night Only by Catherine Walsh
23
“Oh my God, oh my God.” Claire bats at the red wine stain as if trying to strike it from her dress.
“It’s fine,” I lie. “No one will notice.”
“It looks like I got my period,” she hisses.
“No. It looks like you spilled some wine. This is not the end of the world.” I pluck some tissues from a carefully arranged box and wet them under the faucet.
“You’re just going to spread it.”
I dab ineffectively at the mark. “You’re making me nervous.”
“You’re making me nervous.” She rests the back of her head against the door as I try to get it out. It was a bad spill, going all down the front of the dress. “I’ve definitely stained their floors.”
“As if no one ever spilled a drink before. And I doubt Mrs. Griffith will be on her hands and knees cleaning it herself.”
“I’m so embarrassed,” she moans. “And it was going so well.”
“Is going well. Is.”
“He was looking at me,” she continues as if I never said anything. “He was looking at me like he saw me.”
“It’s going to be fine. It’s coming right out.”
“He touched my arm. For a full three seconds and he introduced me to his friends. Not as his colleague but as Claire. This is Claire, he said. And they looked at me like they knew me. Like he’d talked about me.”
I throw the tissue in the trash and reach for another.
“It’s because he’s funny,” she continues. “That’s why. He made a joke and I started to laugh and I missed my mouth and I spilled the wine and it is now the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.”
“It could be worse. You could have spit it all over him.”
“Too soon, Sarah. Hey!”
She’s thrust into me as the door opens behind her.
“Hello?” I say as Declan slips inside. “Ladies room much?”
“You two are taking too long.” he says. His eyes flit over Claire, assessing the damage as she sits with a huff on the toilet lid. “How do you want to play this?”
Claire looks up at him, confused. “What?”
“You’ve got to think of the plan here,” he continues, his tone brisk and professional. “We have an issue. How are we dealing with? How will we spin it?”
“This isn’t a political campaign,” I say, exasperated.
But Claire is frowning at Declan, her brow creased in concentration.
“Nothing’s changed,” Declan says patiently. “Mark still thinks I’m your date. Now am I the caring date who whisks you off to get the stain from your dress or am I the asshole who doesn’t want to leave the party?”
“Um…”
“You’ve got two seconds to decide.”
“The asshole,” she blurts. “Play the asshole.”
He grins. “I was born for the role. You ready?”
“No.”
“Well, we can stay in the bathroom until he goes or we can go out and get you laid. What’s it going to be?”
She doesn’t answer at first and I’m about to snap at him again for his crassness when she grabs onto his hand and pulls herself up.
“Atta girl,” he says gamely and steers her out of the restroom. I follow them, about to drag her back inside when I see Mark at the end of the hallway, waiting for her. I watch, surprised as he hurries over to them, concerned. Declan plays his part well, his face tight with impatience, his shoulders stiff as he tries to take Claire back to the party. There’s a moment’s conversation that I’m too far away to hear before Declan abandons them, striding into the main room.
Mark offers Claire his arm, his head bent attentively to her as he guides her toward the elevator. I follow at a distance, still clutching the tissues, not believing what I’m seeing as he collects her purse from the coat attendant and leads her to the elevator and… takes her home?
I’ve already found someone.
I’d scoffed when Claire had said that to me before. If I’m being honest with myself, a part of me secretly pitied her for the way she carried a torch for him all this time. But it looks like she was right. She was right all this time and she didn’t really need Declan to make him jealous, she didn’t need me to hold her hand. She just needed to trust her instincts. And her instinct said yes.
Declan sidles up to me soon as the doors close. “Impressed?”
“Yes,” I admit, clearing my throat. “Very. She’s been making googly eyes at him for three years.”
“I did drama in school.”
“Thank you,” I say. “For doing this. You didn’t have to.”
“Of course, I did. I told you, didn’t I? I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. And Mark seems nice.”
I grimace. “Don’t say that. I’m worried he’s going to break her heart.”
“Nah,” he says quietly. “He likes her. And Claire knows exactly what she’s doing even if she doesn’t realize it yet.”
“And how do you know that?”
“She picked me, didn’t she?”
“You’re very sure of your abilities to make other men jealous.”
“Have you seen this suit?” He gestures down at himself and I look away because, yes, I have seen that suit. I’ve been staring at him in that suit all night.
He nudges my arm. “Hey, smile. I got you a present.” I watch in confusion as he talks to the coat attendant, who proceeds to bring out a pair of worn sneakers like we’re in a bowling alley.
“Who needs diamonds?” Declan says, presenting them to me.
“Where did you get those?”
“I didn’t steal them if that’s what you’re thinking. Claire brought them in that giant purse of hers. She said I could borrow them.”
I almost snatch them from him. Claire’s half a size bigger than me which is more than doable if I do the laces tight. I sit on one of the cushioned stools dotting the hallway and almost groan when I slip them on.
Declan scoops up the discarded devil heels. “What do you want to do with these?”
“Besides throw them over the balcony?” I hold out my hand to take them, but Declan doesn’t move.
“I can carry them.”
“I’m sure you can but you don’t need to. I’m going home.”
“You can’t go home.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because Claire’s going home.”
“So? I’ll…” But he’s right. Claire is going home. Home with Mark. Crap.
“Whoops,” he says cheerfully. “Didn’t think about that, did you?”
“Did you guys say you were going?” Will appears in the doorway, looking disappointed.
“Yes,” Declan says.
“But separately,” I add.
Will frowns. “Does this mean I have to leave?”
“You can do what you like,” I say, exasperated.
“Well, I’m staying,” he says. “I’m making rich friends. Enjoy your tension or whatever is going on here.” He pauses before he goes, touching my arm lightly. “Make good choices.”
He turns without another word and disappears back into the party.
“He confuses me,” Declan says after a moment.
“Try being friends with him.”
“So what do you want to do?” He smiles at my irritated look. “Some find my insistence endearing.”
“Don’t you have to be at the bar or something?”
“I took the night off.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m pleased. Even I can admit that. I spent all evening watching him with someone else. And even though it was Claire and even though I know it wasn’t real, it still hurt like hell and now here he is, telling me in no uncertain terms, that the only thing he wants to do is spend the rest of the night with me.
“I could eat,” I admit. The scraps of finger food on offer left little to balance the amount of champagne I’ve consumed.
“Then we shall eat,” Declan says solemnly and leads me to the elevator.
It’s busy outside. It’s still early for a Saturday night and the air is warm and still.
We walk along the sidewalk, close enough that our arms brush every now and then. Anyone passing us would think we’re a couple. The mere thought of it gives me a thrill.
“Which way?” I ask as we reach a junction.
“You’re asking me?” Declan looks surprised. “I was following you. You said we were going to get something to eat.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know this part of the city.”
“And you think I do?” He laughs.
“Well, where do you want to eat?”
He shrugs. “I’m not really hungry.”
I force down a sigh. “Then what do you feel like doing?”
Declan’s quiet beside me and for a moment I wonder if we should just head back up to the party when he suddenly perks up, his expression clear. “I have an idea,” he says and tugs my arm, towing me down the street.