After that, I gave up what seemed like a fruitless endeavor and went from thinking I could change my visions to believing they were everything I needed to know. Turns out that wasn’t true either. It was another three years before I trusted anyone enough to let my guard down, but when I felt cautiously optimistic enough to give it a go, I saw nothing scary. I took it as a good sign. I was wrong. Two messy years of endless mixed-up messages and feelings later, I shut the door on that relationship.
It’s been a long two-and-a-half years since then, and I’ve had only “relationships” that lasted a few dates. Suffice it to say all my visions do is give me information that, at best, I don’t know what to do with and, at worst, scare me off completely. And that’s not even getting started on the visions I get from everyone else. Do I get other, non-relationship-related visions that are actually helpful sometimes? Sure. But it doesn’t feel like enough, especially with the few utterly horrifying ones. I try not to be negative, but when anxiety and doubt creep in it’s difficult not to think of my gift as more of a curse.
I heave a sigh, still unsure whether I want to put myself out there again. Whether I want to deal with whatever visions I get and the inevitable decisions they’ll force me to make. It’s exhausting and why I’d rather just avoid dating at all. But then, Drew …
Matt and Uncle Chuck walk through the door to the kitchen, and I scramble to busy myself like I hadn’t just been obsessing.
“Need help with that lettuce?” Matt asks teasingly as I dump it into the salad bowl.
I stick my tongue out at him. “I think I can manage,” I snip.
Uncle Chuck shakes his head and clucks his tongue. “Now children,” he jokes.
I roll my eyes as I toss the veggies Aunt Meg had chopped into the bowl. “Let’s eat, knuckleheads.” I carry the bowl through to the dining room and take my seat.
“So how’s work going, kids?” Uncle Chuck asks as he grabs a roll. His eyes flit between Matt and me. I shove a bite of salad in my mouth so I don’t have to answer.
“Busting my ass to prove myself,” Matt grumbles. “So ya know. That keeps me pretty busy.”
“And yet they’ve promoted you, so you must’ve already impressed someone.” Our uncle smiles knowingly as his eyes flick to me. “How about you, Catherine? Is Matthew running you ragged too?”
I swallow and smile back. “He’s a tyrant.”
Matt scoffs. “Am not.”
I roll my eyes. What are we, five? He looks at me, daring me to reply childishly. And while I don’t rise to the bait, I don’t let him off the hook either.
“You had me change the font on the director’s report fourteen times, Matt.”
Matt turns beet red. “It’s an important meeting.”
“Ah, is this the dinner meeting you don’t know if you’re going to?” Aunt Meg asks.
Matt turns on me. “You’re not going? Why wouldn’t you go? You have to go. This is my first quarterly meeting, Cee.” The intensity in his voice is pretty alarming.
“Geez, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” I grumble. “Fine, I’ll go.”
Matt’s shoulders relax visibly. I shake my head. He needs to ratchet it down about fifteen notches so he doesn’t die of a heart attack before he’s thirty.
“I hope you’ll take my advice,” Aunt Meg says pointedly, and just cryptically enough to get Matt’s attention.
His head whips between us, his eyes narrowing. I’m pretty sure he’s noticed I’ve not let him read me since my shitty date on Tuesday.
“Is there a reason you didn’t want to go?” Matt asks, cutting directly to the point as usual.
I drop my fork and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. No point in evading Matt. He always finds out.
“When I had lunch there last Thursday, I met the chef,” I hedge, avoiding his gaze.
“He didn’t do something to make you uncomfortable, did he?” Matt asks, his voice tense and bordering on anger. He’s always been way overly protective. I guess only he gets to make me uncomfortable. I smirk at the thought.
And when I flick my eyes up to meet his, I can’t help screwing with him. “Just in my panties,” I deadpan.
Matt groans and shakes his head. “I can’t unhear that, Cee. Gross.”
I shoot him an evil grin and Aunt Meg rolls her eyes. Uncle Chuck acts like he didn’t hear it, as usual.
“Seriously, though, I’ll go. But I may disappear if he comes out, if only to avoid making a complete ass of myself.”
Matt’s eyebrow arches. “If you focus on helping me manage the meeting, you won’t have time to worry about it.”
“And if you pulled the stick out of your ass, we might actually be able to make the meeting fun enough that people will be glad they attended.”
“Catherine Jane,” Uncle Chuck says in a scandalized tone.
“You really think they go to those things to spend the whole time going over metrics? They want delicious food, lots of booze, and a good time,” I insist.
My brother’s eyes narrow, and I think for a second he’s about to blow his lid. “Okay, fine,” he concedes, to my shock. “How would you run the meeting?”
A sly grin spreads over my face. Aunt Meg throws up a finger. “No piñatas, young lady,” she says sternly.
“Damn,” I curse, slapping the table. Everyone laughs. I do love a good piñata party, but that’s not actually what I was going to suggest. “Really, though. It’s a director’s meeting for the marketing division of a social media company. Use it to do some marketing.”
Matt raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
I roll my eyes. “Boy, I really am the brains behind this operation, aren’t I?” I look at him like it should be obvious. “We have three open seats. Invite our biggest influencers. Have them pump it in their feeds and do livestreams and live posts.”
His mouth drops open in an “aha” moment.
“I’m an idiot,” he says softly.
“Not gonna argue with that,” I reply, digging back into my dinner with a smile. And I’m pretty pleased with myself on multiple levels. Because it’ll be a damn good distraction, hopefully saving me from making an ass out of myself in front of Drew or even noticing if he pops up.
“We’ve got to get working right now. I should’ve thought of using the dinner as a marketing opportunity weeks ago. Started promoting it weeks ago.” Matt’s tone drops, and he continues mumbling to himself under his breath as he pulls his phone from his pocket and rapidly starts typing notes.
I look guiltily between Aunt Meg and Uncle Chuck. I silently mouth, Sorry, then I scarf down my food as quickly as possible. Because I’m pretty sure my brilliance just landed me in a shit pile of work until Thursday night.
Chapter Four
CJ
Having waited until the week of to book the three open slots with our trending influencers was a good thing. Since those people change so rapidly, it gives us the freshest faces. We decide on an up-and-coming comedienne, a model who is consistently at the top of fashion and style rankings, and a personal-trainer-turned-celebrity who’s had more tags than anyone in his category. I’ve personally drooled over his posts, though I’d never admit that to Matt. I’m already nervous enough.