Page 138 of Experiments in Offline Dating

Simone had said if that happened, she’d come to New Zealand to travel with me and make sure I didn’t throw myself into the jaws of a shark and ruin the podcast. But if the worst happened, I would be long gone by the time she got there, because boiling disappointment would have melted my entire body into a puddle of loveless, inconsolable regret that the airport janitors would have to mop up next to one of those yellow if you slip and fall, don’t sue us signs.

This whole having-feelings thing was a real sucker punch to the vag.

Over the course of the next hour, I had one more latte (huge mistake), peed four times (should have seen that coming, frankly), paced the floor (until I got so many suspicious looks that I worried I might get arrested), and ate a family-size bucket of cinnamon-sugar pretzels (and afterward nearly hurled them up).

Then the arrivals board changed again. His plane had arrived. I literally screamed and had to apologize to the nice elderly couple sitting next to me.

He didn’t come. He’s not here. He hates me. With each step, I tried to prepare myself for the worst. I could handle the worst. What I couldn’t handle was the alternative.

Because if he came.

If he got on that plane.

If he’s here.

Well, I couldn’t even think about that.

People started coming out of customs one at a time, and none of them were him—there was middle-aged Justin Bieber, there was hot-pink-onesie Willie Nelson, and there was Eugene Levy’s cousin with a mullet—but no Tadhg.

Of course he didn’t come. Of course he didn’t jump onto a plane to cross the planet for this inane experiment just to find out if you might be in love with each other.

But then a figure blocked the doors, and before I had even looked up into his face, my pulse went haywire.

My eyes swept up his beautiful body to his beautiful eyes, and something broke. Cracked in my chest. He was here. He was here.

I saw that day all over again, pictured his face as I left him in Shannon Airport. I heard his voice as he asked if he’d ever see me again.

But even after all of that, he had come, and I had a second chance.

I felt, all at once, wracked with pain and also so absolutely full of happiness that I couldn’t breathe. It flooded my system, it made my head spin, dopamine pumped from my brain, flooding every vein, every cell, every nerve, until I thought I might burn up like the sun. I had never felt anything like this before. It was horrible. It was beautiful.

I knew I didn’t deserve for him to be here. But I wasn’t about to waste it. I was going to make it up to him. I was going to prove to him—to both of us—that I could fall in love.

I ran full speed toward him. Or at least I had imagined myself running full speed and jumping into his arms and kissing him. But I couldn’t. I tried. I was frozen in place. Completely paralyzed. My legs wouldn’t move. I couldn’t get enough air.

Instead, he walked to me, one long, steady stride at a time, a furrow between his perfect brows, the corner of his mouth ticked up in a slight, tentative smirk.

But he didn’t sweep me up. He got within an arm’s length and stopped. He just stood in front of me. Silent. Waiting. His eyes searching my face.

Say something. Say something!

“You came,” I whispered.

His smile quirked a fraction higher. “I did.”

“I didn’t think you’d come.” I took a deep breath, and it shook in my lungs and caught in my throat. My face burned. My nose stung. “I was such a complete asshole to you, Tadhg. You opened up to me, you talked about your feelings—I know how hard that was for you. And then I pushed you away like a fucking coward. And I have regretted it every second of every day since. Because I have missed you every second of every day since—like a part of me was gone and I was grieving.”

I swallowed hard. My mouth was dry. There was a lump in my throat.

“Because you are . . . special . . . to me. You’re a grumpy bastard,

it’s true.” He narrowed his eyes as his smile grew. “But you’re also caring, and supportive, and thoughtful, and protective. You learn what I need without me having to tell you. And I know I can do anything when I’m holding your hand.

“Then when I went home and listened to all those interviews of real love—true, lasting love—all I could think was that I wanted that too. Probably for the first time. With you. I thought I had the perfect life, but since I met you, it’s not enough for me anymore. You are the only person I have ever met who I would change my life for. Because I would change everything if it meant that I could spend a little more time with you.”

The words were spilling out of me now, like a dam had broken, and all that pressure that had been growing on my chest was releasing with each word. My eyes stung. I had to get the rest of this out. I had to tell him everything I knew and everything I was feeling, because he was here, listening, waiting for me, and what if this was my last chance?

“I think you’re one of the only people who has ever seen past my quirks, past all my awkwardness, past all my faux pas and blurted comments, and really seen me for who I am, you know, and still wanted to spend more time with me. And there are four people total in my entire life who I feel like I can be a hundred percent myself around. Four. And I’m not sure why—maybe because when you start out hating someone you really don’t care what they think of you, so you forget to pretend to be someone else—I don’t know why, but one of those four is you. Being around you doesn’t drain me. It fills me up.” My eyes started to swim. “I gave up on ever finding that because I didn’t think I ever could. I mean, what are the odds? I’ll figure it out later.” I shrugged and shook my head. Was I messing this up?