Page 16 of Leaning In

“Everyone, this is Tom. Tom, you’re at the end, next to Claire. I don’t think you’ve met? She’s a friend from university.”

I brave another glance up from my fascinating radishes to see Tom looking just as shocked as I feel before he hides the expression away. He gives the group a wave and starts heading around the table to the empty seat next to me.

“We know each other.” He’s smiling at me broadly, and I feel my cheeks heating.

I give what I hope is a normal-looking nod. As he sits, I take him in. His hair is freshly washed and still a bit damp around his collar. He’s got a bottle of wine in one hand, his jacket in the other, and he’s giving me a teasing look that I can’t help but answer with a smile.

“Yeah, we do.” I turn to Michael. “I’m friends with his sister.”

I place extra emphasis on the word sister, but Tom doesn’t seem to notice.

“Brilliant.” Michael tops up his wine glass. “And yes,” he says to the table at large. “Before anyone asks. He has the same name as the designer, and we’ve done the jokes, he’s heard them all.”

“Heard two tonight,” Tom says wryly.

“I’ll abstain,” someone calls generously from opposite me.

The party hums around us, clinking glasses, overlapping conversations, the occasional roar of laughter from the other end of the table. But I’m barely tracking any of it. Because Tom is sitting next to me.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, after it becomes obvious that I can’t speak.

“Didn’t expect to see you either. That makes twice in two days.”

“Must be fate.”

I quickly avert my eyes and start loading radishes onto my plate, because apparently that’s what I do now.

Tom watches me in confusion, which is fair, I’m also confused by my own actions. “I didn’t know you liked radishes so much? I swear you didn’t like them when you were younger, but now you look very passionate about them.”

“We have a very intense relationship.” I peel my eyes away from my support salad, my lips turning up in a smile.

“How’s that going for you?”

“It’s complicated.”

He glances down at my radish-filled plate. “Should I leave you two alone?”

“We’re good.”

“How was the 5 a.m. start?” he asks, and I blink, surprised he remembered.

“It was fine actually, better than I thought it’d be.”

Tom’s sitting close, we’re all squeezed in around the table, close enough that our elbows brush when we both reach for the water pitcher.

“Sorry.” I try to pretend that my heart rate hasn’t just jumped from the tiniest bit of physical contact.

“Don’t be,” he replies, mouth quirking as he grabs the pitcher. “Water?”

“Sure you can lift that with your arthritis, old man?” I ask him.

He pours the water with exaggerated effort. “Might need a lie down after this. Or a hip replacement from the walk here.”

I grin. “Do they give those out as party favours now? Or is it only if you’ve been very, very good?”

I bite my lip. Shit. I shouldn’t be flirting with my friend’s brother. But it’s too fun not to. This is exactly like yesterday where I accidentally called him a 'hot nerd' before I could catch myself.

Tom leans in, just enough that I can feel the warmth of his arm again. “Are there any other rewards for good behaviour?”