Page 114 of Experiments in Offline Dating

“Sit there if you want.” I pushed out the chair with my foot. “I’m just going to be catching up on emails, but if you’ve got stuff to do.”

He caught my eye for a second, then nodded, putting his tea and muffin back on the table. “Sure, I’ve got stuff I can do.”

We settled into a long, quiet stretch, going about our own tasks in each other’s company. It was silent, undemanding, without expectation—sharing the time without draining my social battery, not unlike the way Tadhg and Finn were happy to comfortably occupy each other’s space.

It was a nice, slow, cozy day. Tadhg had a stern talking-to with Jackie and said that he wasn’t going to kill us both chasing dates all across Ireland anymore—no more than one date a day, as per my request, and no more than a maximum of four hours driving at a time, and regular time off to recharge on our own. And Jackie, perhaps repentant, or simply trying to placate us, was good to his word.

After the castle, we had taken the day off, a few hours driving with our audiobook, and a very early night to make up for our lost hours of sleep. This had been followed by another half day’s pleasant drive, with stops whenever we wanted, and a fantastic night in Cork. We’d stay here a second night, and while I already missed the quiet of the countryside, I was enjoying the peace of staying put.

Tadhg had texted from his own room that morning to tell me that we could have a day to ourselves and to let him know if I needed anything. A whole day to myself had seemed like such a luxury. For someone who usually was generally happiest alone, I hadn’t had any real time to myself in a week. I’d had a shower, played around online, done some work, and then packed up my laptop and book and left to have a walk around the city and find some lunch.

Cork was awesome—crisscrossed by rivers and bridges, dotted with spires, streets neatly lined with imposing architecture. It was full of little shops to look in and enticing places to eat and drink. It wasn’t long before I was texting Tadhg with a photo of the green boxers with sheep on them that I found at a tacky souvenir shop. He had sent an insulting text in response, and I had sent an insulting text back, and then, without thinking, I was asking him to meet me for lunch. After lunch Finn needed a walk, and when I spotted a café called Alchemy Coffee and Books, it was a no-brainer. Just like that, I was spending my solo day with Tadhg.

There had been a bit of distance since the night of the air mattress. Tadhg was more careful afterward. He held himself one step away at all times. That careful-not-to-brush-arms, careful-not-to-lock-eyes-too-long sort of way that a spooked man gets about him. We had been more careful with the rules afterward. But it wasn’t cold or awkward between us. It felt good—stabilizing. Firm ground, safe to plant our feet on.

I’d had only one date since the groundskeeper and was happy for the break. Usually, one a week was my maximum, and the recent boon to my dance card had been completely draining. Not to mention that the entire situation had become a bit strange. Despite the talk we’d had and the rules we’d made, dating with Tadhg nearby had begun to feel . . . odd. I had spent the night in his beautiful arms atop a slowly deflating jellyfish, and then the next morning he’d driven me to a date with a handsome stranger. It was getting a bit . . . awkward. Too close. What we needed was a little distance, and this new distance felt both comfortable and advisable. Now having him nearby as I worked felt casual and easy.

After I’d spent a productive hour or so striking things off my to-do list, Tadhg had finished whatever he was doing on his phone and pulled out his book. I opened up Google Maps and started mapping where we’d been so far so that I wouldn’t forget anything.

“So, where are we going next?” I spun my laptop around to face him, and he looked up from his book.

“Well.” He typed in the next pins. “Cobh tomorrow morning because it’s close, then on to Kilkenny, then you’ve a date in Drogheda, and then we head up to Northern Ireland, see the bridge, the castle, and Giant’s Causeway.” He flicked me a cheeky smirk, so I played along.

“The home of your ancestors.”

“Exactly. After that, down to Galway, through Connemara, and catch the ferry to Inis Mor.” He spun the map back to me.

“Holy shit. Has your dad ever heard of a circular route?”

“This is the cleaned-up version after our little discussion. You should have seen it before. Looked like a murder map with red yarn.”

“No stop planned for Dublin? We’re going to be driving right past it.”

“Dublin? No. Dad always says he has no luck with Dublin. Why?”

“Oh, no big deal. Just thought it would be cool to see Trinity Library.”

“I see. Don’t have much time, though, unfortunately.” He stood up and collected the dishes and muffin papers. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I’m going to take Finn to the park, then drop her off back at the room and go to the Butter Museum. It would be a shame if you came all this way and then missed out on the Butter Museum.”

I looked up into his totally serious face. “You have got to be joking.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up and broke the stoic facade. “Nope. There’s a churning demonstration at three, so you’d better get your arse in gear.”

“Wow. You’ve really got to give this whole down-home-farmer shtick a rest, you know that? This has gone too far. Do you have any idea how difficult it’s going to be for me not to make dirty jokes at a goddamn butter churning demonstration?!”

THE NEXT DAY, when I woke up from a drive to find myself in Dublin, I was completely surprised.

“Wake up, lazybones. You’re late for a date.”

“What?” I rubbed my eyes and looked around. “Already? I thought it wasn’t until tonight.”

“No, that date has been moved. This date is with Trinity Library.”

I stared at him for a moment, slack-jawed, and just blinked. “Tadhg.” My slack jaw turned into a grin. “Really?”