Next she met Reese, Audrey’s new husband, and a total scoundrel with a goatee and a wicked smile. He was the type who would have made her exceedingly nervous to meet in any sort of situation post-trauma. It was the confidence, the devil-may-care, the ladies’ man mentality. Only the fact that he was doting on his pregnant wife made her okay around him, but she did her best to keep her greeting short.
Gretchen dragged her along through the room of mingling people, frowning. “I don’t see Sebastian anywhere. He’s Hunter’s friend.” She grimaced. “Well, as much as my boo has friends. More like he has work acquaintances that he doesn’t hate, and we didn’t want to stack the wedding with his, uh, college buddies, because they just did that in another wedding. So we searched around for groomsmen, and Sebastian’s some guy with family money. His family’s crazy, though.” She looked at Chelsea apologetically. “I paired you up with him for the wedding stuff. I hope that’s okay. It was either him or Magnus and I thought your coloring would look good with Sebastian because he’s swarthy and you’re so cute and blonde. Bitch.” She grabbed a pair of champagne flutes from the passing butler and offered one to Chelsea. “Drink up. I know how much you like your bubbly.”
Chelsea’s smile grew tight and she held the glass in her hand to be polite, when all she really wanted to do was hand it back. “Thanks.”
“Oh, we’re all sitting down to eat now,” Gretchen said, releasing Chelsea’s arm. “Come on. Sebastian should be around here soon.”
“Join you in a sec,” Chelsea said, her panic rising. It was stupid, really. Sitting next to some random guy in a room full of friends shouldn’t throw her into a tizzy. But Pisa wasn’t here to troubleshoot. She’d be by herself. And who knew what would happen then?
Stop it, she told herself. These are your friends. Indeed, walking into the room and seeing so many familiar faces was like a hug from a distant relative: comfortable but still somehow awkward. She shouldn’t be freaking. But she needed a minute to calm down and chill, to get her head in the bout.
And to dump her damn drink, because its presence was bugging her.
So she excused herself and made a beeline for the bathroom. Inside, she wasn’t alone. To her surprise, she saw tiny Greer, desperately trying to fix her makeup. One of her eyes looked . . . off.
Greer gave her a panicked look as Chelsea entered. “Chel! Oh. Thank god. I need your help.” She pointed at her eye. “My eyelashes are gone! Does it look bad?”
Chelsea peered at her face. “Well, it looks like one of your eyes is bald. Is that what you mean by ‘bad’?”
“Oh, no,” Greer moaned, and leaned in close to the mirror, squinting. “I can’t tell. I’m not wearing my glasses tonight.”
“Uh, why not?” From what she knew of poor Greer, they were some mighty strong glasses. She was always a bit of a mousy thing, shy and sweet and prone to fading into the wallpaper. “Don’t you need them? Did you get Lasik?”
“I don’t qualify for Lasik, and yes, I do need them.” Greer shot her an unhappy look. “Asher’s here tonight and I wanted to look . . . pretty.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Greer was a sweetheart, but she wasn’t Asher’s type. Was she still hung up on the arrogant SOB? He liked them tall, leggy, and busty. Kind of like Chelsea herself, but Asher was an old buddy and the thought of dating him was kind of gross.
“Please,” Greer said, her voice barely a whisper. “Please, can you go looking for it? I was in the library earlier. It must have dropped off then. I can’t go to dinner without looking my best. Please. Please please.”
“Well, all right.” It’d make her late for dinner if it took a while, but a task might be the thing to get her focused and soothe her rattled nerves. Plus, it’d help Greer. And who was she kidding? It’d help her because she could avoid dinner that much longer. “But on one condition.”
“Anything.”
She held out her champagne. “Drink this.”
Greer’s brows drew together and she looked at Chelsea’s face, then at the drink. “Why, does it taste bad?”
“No clue. I don’t want it and couldn’t figure out a way to politely hand it back.”
“Mmm, okay.” Greer took the glass and dunked it back, swallowing a huge mouthful. She pressed a small hand to her mouth and then burped delicately. “Now. Eyelashes. Library.”
“Gotcha. Show me the library and I’ll show you an eyelash hunter.”
It took three tries for Greer to find the library. In addition to being a bit blind, she was also tipsy from Chelsea’s champagne. Total lightweight. Once they were able to find the library, though, Chelsea paused. She could hear the partygoers down the hall, no doubt gathering for dinner. “You want to come in with me and look? I could use the company.” She didn’t like being alone.
Greer snorted. “I can’t see five feet in front of me, but sure, I’ll ‘help.’” She made air quotes and then wobbled in after Chelsea. “I’m not going in to sit next to Asher with a bald eyeball, that’s for damn sure.”
The lights in the newly deserted library were for ambiance only, a few pretty Tiffany lamps casting a glow. Other than that, the room was crowded with furniture and shelves, and darker than she’d like. It made Chelsea’s nerves ratchet up a notch, and she went through the room, flicking on light switches.
“I’m pretty sure I was over here by the fireplace the entire time,” Greer said.
“I’m still turning on all the lights,” Chelsea told her. She hated the dark. Couldn’t function with it. Light was warmth and safety. Once they were all on, she relaxed a bit.
Greer flopped into a nearby chair, fanning her face. “Is it hot in here to you?”
“No?” She moved toward the fireplace. “Over here, huh?” The carpet was a busy Persian rug and it was going to be hell finding a set of fake lashes on the pattern, but that was all right. It’d waste time, and right now she was keen on finding time-wasters.
“I think so,” Greer said in a breathy voice. Then she made a little “hurp” noise. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Um.” She looked down at the expensive rug she knelt on. “Is there a trash can around here?”
“Really, really sick.” Greer pressed her fingers to her mouth.
Not good. “Why don’t you head back to the bathroom and I’ll look?” Chelsea’s fear of being alone flicked again, but she could hear the partygoers down the hall, and she didn’t want Greer puking everywhere. She could be by herself for a minute. Just one. “I’ll join you once I find it.”
Greer nodded and stumbled away. Alone now, Chelsea got down on her hands and knees and began to sweep her palms over the carpet. Moving slowly, she inched forward, crossing the room.
It took a few minutes before her efforts bore fruit. She spotted something that looked like a dark, spiky caterpillar under the desk. How the heck had Greer managed that? She scurried forward on her knees, tucking her dress hem between her legs. Reaching for the eyelash didn’t quite do the trick, so she had to crawl under the furniture.