With that, he lets me go. Where I’m going, I’m not sure, but the room is spacious and I’d like to give myself some space from Barrett. The bar seems like a good idea but I don’t even make it that far before a waiter with a tray of champagne offers one to me.

A glass of champagne and a few passed hors-d’oeuvres later and I’m feeling less feisty. I’ve lost track of Barrett but a chilly breeze from my two o’clock tells me he’s not far.

I don’t recognize anyone. Why would I? This is Barrett’s social circle. I’m a loner chugging her champagne but that’s better than being around Barrett’s grumpy ass. If he’s my lifeline at this event, I’d rather drown.

“There you are,” a woman says behind me.

I turn around to find a gorgeous brunette dressed in a pretty bubble gum pink gown. She looks familiar but I’m uncertain why she would be looking for me.

“I’m Emma, Barrett’s cousin.” She smiles radiantly at me. “We met in passing at one of Aunt Jo’s book launches.”

“Oh, that’s right. I knew you looked familiar.” I stick out my hand. “Chloe Anderson.”

“I know who you are, silly.” She pulls me into a hug. “And what you are.”

“What’s that?” I ask nervously.

“Barrett’s girlfriend. I had to see it with my own eyes.”

She looks around, probably expecting Barrett to be nearby. She’ll be disappointed I ran him off.

“Oh. Right.”

“You are tiny,” she says, then her eyes widen with alarm. “Sorry, I hope that’s not rude. People always think I’m short. My mother’s a runway model, former runway model. She’s sixty now so the eye cream campaigns keep her busy. Honestly, she doesn’t look a day over forty.” Emma pauses, likely retracing the point she’s trying to make. I recognize this because I do it a lot, too. “My point being, people wonder why I didn’t get her height. I blame my dad. It’s the quintessential leggy model falls for short photographer,” she waves at herself, “therefore producing less than average height offspring.”

She takes a sip of her champagne.

“Sorry. I talk a lot. It’s genetic.”

“Then you can’t be related to Barrett.”

That earns me a laugh.

“Our mothers are sisters so it might just be a Smith girl thing.”

“Your dress is gorgeous.” She looks me over again. “Your ass looks amazing in it.”

“Thank you.” I smile. Her compliment gives me reassurance. What I didn’t get from Barrett.