Page 113 of Experiments in Offline Dating

“This, well, isn’t easy for me to say.” Oh, God. “But I’m trying to take a leaf from your book, Maya. You seem to find apologizing so easy. So I’m going to fucking man up. I’m . . . sorry.” It sounded like one of the hardest words he’d ever said. He was forcing himself. Every line of his body was tense. “I was an asshole last night. I attacked you. I attacked your work. I made it personal. Then I manhandled you in the night, after I’d been such a prick. There’s no excuse. So I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I understand if you want me to take you back to Lisdoonvarna.” He looked like this apology had cost him. Like he was in physical pain.

My mouth quirked. “We’re good.”

His brow pinched, and he let out the breath he was holding. “Just like that?”

I took a sip of perfectly hot coffee and sighed with contentment. “Just like that.”

As it turned out, the date that we’d crossed Ireland for was with a very attractive groundskeeper at Castle Glenveagh who was not at all interested in having a date. We did, however, work in the garden together, which I very much enjoyed.

“I’m sorry. This is, well, my dad’s not well, and this is what he wanted. He called Mr. Kelly and made the arrangements. I did call back and try to put him off, but he didn’t seem to want to listen.”

“That’s all right. To be honest with you, I’m not really looking for a serious match either. But I am happy to get outside and get to see all of this. It’s beautiful here.”

“I’m sorry to drag you all the way out. I felt so bad about it that I told Jackie you and your driver could stay here last night, there are some rooms. I hope he passed that along.”

Well. Doesn’t that just take the fucking cake?

Conclusion: date unsuccessful.

Uncontrollable variable: Jackie Kelly.

Chapter 33 An Experiment in Being Taken by Surprise

How’s Cork?

I love it! Just walked into Alchemy Coffee and Bookstore.

Sounds like your kinda place!

It really is. Had a tapas date last night, then met T at this really cool pub with live Irish music with bagpipes! Will send videos.

How was the date?

The usual. Tapas were better. But get this—our hotel has an actual waterfall in the courtyard!

Please tell me something went wrong and you were forced to share a bed with Brick House Brian again!

This text was followed by an inappropriate gif of a woman petting a rooster.

OR that you got drunk at the pub and didn’t need the excuse to bone. Even better!

No, you asshole. I’m never telling you anything anymore! And can’t we just call him Tadhg?

No. Because I don’t think that’s a real name and it’s too hard to spell.

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, Tadhg. Simone’s texting. It’s probably going to take a minute. I’m going to sit.”

“Want your usual?”

“Do I have a usual?”

“Yep. You have one when you need to feel cozy and one when you need an extra boost.”

“Then yes. Boost, please. Thank you.”

I stared after him for a moment, head tilted. Then I sat down and started sending photos of the café, the date at Paladar tapas bar, and then a video of the trad music session at Sin É pub for Simone to share on the socials. I looked up to catch Tadhg perusing the local impulse buys by the counter—hand cream was an unexpected addition to the purchases. I hoped briefly that he wasn’t trying to get rid of his calluses after I had pointed them out, then reminded myself that Tadhg’s calluses were none of my damn business.

He brought our drinks over and I tasted mine: flat white with an extra shot into which he had stirred exactly half a brown-sugar packet. Perfection! He had also bought two muffins—chocolate and blueberry—and he cut them in half and swapped them over. He placed a half chocolate/half blueberry muffin in front of me and then turned to find another table.