Page 16 of Wallflower Witch

“I don’t like crowds. I never have. They are just overwhelming and a lot. Even when I only thought it was weird dreams that made sleeping hard, the dreams were more vivid any time I’d been in a large group. So I learned not to.” I shrug. “I didn’t get invited out because I didn’t have friends. When my family tried to force me to go somewhere, I’d fake sick or just lock myself in my room. Eventually, they gave up trying, and I was left to my books where I could escape to a different world without consequences and losing sleep.

“I loved to read about high schools and academics. I’d imagine I was one of the characters living a life full of drama and intrigue. Sometimes I was the mean girl or the best friend, but most of the time I was the girl being bullied for being different. When those felt too real, I started reading fantasy and paranormal books. Most of those characters are much more accepting of people’s quirks and differences. And stuff like that could never happen in real life, so those books were safe. Except now I’m living a paranormal book.”

I pause to rub my temples like that could change what is happening around me.

“Anyway, with how much more I am starting to see, especially while awake, I am not super excited to be in the city and around all these people. You two take it in stride that I see dead people. Most people don’t and just think I’m crazy and should be locked up. It’s just a lot.”

While I was rambling, we reached the restaurant and parked.

“If it’s too much, I can go meet Matty on my own,” Josh offers, giving my leg a light squeeze. “But you know we won’t let anyone harm you or lock you up. At least, we hope you know that.”

“I do.” I inhale deeply, then let it out. “I can do it. Let’s go meet this Matty and hope he has some answers.”

The men nod and open their doors, climbing out. I follow suit, falling into step with Patrick as we walk up to the door.

Patrick pulls open the heavy wooden door, revealing one of the fanciest restaurants I’ve ever seen. Long white tablecloths cover each table, already set with stacks of plates, multiple glasses, and more silverware than I know what to do with.

Stepping inside, I shiver from the blast of air conditioning. A large, dark wooden hostess stand blocks us from going farther into the space.

“Do you have a reservation?” asks a girl who looks to be in her early twenties with platinum blonde hair and a face full of makeup. Her eyes slide over the three of us in jeans and T-shirts, and her smile hardens. “Or should I offer you directions to some of the other places around here that may be more your… style?”

My shoulders hunch forward as I try to take up less space. Patrick wraps an arm around my waist, tucking me against his side as Josh steps forward.

“We are meeting a friend here, Matthew Archibald. He should have told you to expect us.” This is the first time I think I’ve seen Josh cross with someone.

The hostess’s eyes widen. “Mr. Archibald? Of course. He mentioned he was meeting someone. He just didn’t mention it was… You weren’t the types he usually meets with…” she trails off.

“Hmmm…” Josh purses his lips. “Lead the way.”

She nods quickly and steps back from the stand. “Follow me.” She turns and shows us to a small room off the main dining room. There are three tables in here, but only one has someone sitting at it.

“Mr. Archibald,” the woman says. “Your guests are here. We will send your server in soon and then give you your privacy.” She dips her head and quickly leaves the room, sliding a pocket door closed behind her.

“What happened to her?” asks the man at the table. He looks up at us, his eyes so dark they appear black.

“She didn’t think we belonged here,” answers Josh. “But once I said we were your guests, that all changed. Why’d you pick this place anyway, Matty?”

He sighs, running a hand through his short light brown hair. “I’ve told you I go by Matt or Matthew now, Josh. I haven’t been Matty since I was eight.”

Josh smirks. “I know. Anyway, I know you’re a big-shot lawyer, but what gives with her reaction? Do you bring clients here a lot or something?”

“Nope,” Matt answers. “I decided to expand my investments. I’m a part owner of the restaurant.” He chuckles.

“Well, that’s new,” Josh says, pulling out a chair and sitting at the table.

Patrick and I follow suit.

“These are the friends I mentioned, Morrigan and Patrick. We are in a bit of a pickle and are hoping you can help us out.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I offer, meeting his dark eyes and feeling like I’m being sucked into a never-ending void. I smile and let myself fall farther.

Patrick reaches over and shakes Matt’s hand.

“Nice to meet you too,” he murmurs, and I feel a shiver run down my spine, but this one isn’t from fear. “And I hope I can help you, too, but first, let’s eat. What good is being a partial owner of a restaurant if I can’t enjoy the food?”

As if on cue, the door slides open, and a man in black slacks and a white button-down enters the room with a stainless-steel pitcher in his hand. He reaches past me and fills one of the three glasses in front of me with water before circling the table.

When everyone has a drink, he finally speaks. “Which bottle would you like today, sir?”

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