Chapter 25

25

MADDIE

Tuesday, March 25

Boyfriend Disaster #7 : Cody the Fuckboy

Job Location & Length : Chipotle, 1 month

My Age : 26

I spent one singular month working at Chipotle. It was miserable. Maybe I hooked up with Cody—the hot twenty-three-year-old cashier who was obviously a total player—on purpose, to intentionally give myself an out. Anyway. Good riddance.

Breakup Reason : all the reasons

My Distress Level : -1 billion

Lesson Learned : Hooking up with the resident fuckboy will definitely not make you feel better, at least not for more than a minute.

M y sisters’ video call pops up on my screen again. This past weekend I made the mistake of telling them about my bike accident, and they freaked out. They’re still freaking out, even though I’ve been trying to convince them for days I’m okay.

Shit. I can’t answer the call. I’m working at O’Brien’s in Ireland, not at a resort in Saint Lucia.

I click ignore then tap out a text.

Me

Sorry, I’m working! Once again, I feel great, I promise. No headache, scrapes all healed

Reese

Proof of life, sister, right away, or I book a flight

She sends a screenshot of a round-trip flight to Saint Lucia from Newark. In reality, Stella is much closer, just across the channel in England.

I immediately take a selfie with the same nondescript wall of the bar in the background, like Patrick suggested weeks ago.

Me

This is from yesterday afternoon at the pub with some coworkers. See? I look healthy as a horse

Reese

Should you be drinking with a concussion? And shouldn’t you be tanner? Or are you pale because you feel awful?

Me

1) I was being social and I drank tea, 2) I’m offended, I use sunscreen like a good thirty-something, and 3) how many times can I tell you I feel fine??

Reese

Ha, okay. Take care of yourself. I worry about you! Congrats on your extended internship. I’m assuming it’s a good thing that they want you to stay longer. Will you have to make up any classes? When is your flight home?

I groan at her barrage of mini-mom questions.

My original flight back across the Atlantic is supposed to be this Friday. I should get on that plane and go back home for a few weeks before the road trip, then fly back to Ireland with Reese once I’ve come clean about everything.

That’s not what I’m doing.

Instead, I told my sisters that the resort extended my internship for another few weeks.

There’s no logical reason for me to stay here. I’m almost done planning the road trip. I’ve gotten a break from my life and had time to think about my past and what I want for the future.

A fresh start back in Jersey. Avoid the same mistakes I’ve made previously.

The fact that I’m dating someone I work with right now and letting my feelings rage out of control? Inconsequential. I can do whatever I want in this little interlude. Real life starts back home.

I’m not going to leave yet.

Last night, I changed my return flight to after the road trip. Including the trip, I’ll get to spend almost six more weeks with Patrick. My chest warms at the thought of all that time to be with each other.

I’m waiting to tell Patrick that little nugget of information. We haven’t talked about my exact departure date, anyway. I’m off tomorrow night, so I might make him dinner and tell him then.

Hopefully he’ll be excited.

Hopefully he won’t be able to tell I’m falling in love with him.

There’s a warm twist in my stomach at the thought of it. But it’s not a mere thought. So I’m staying. And working at O’Brien’s. I belong here.

For now.

Two men order pints of Guinness—and by now I’m used to patrons calling it the black stuff —and I smile at them as I pour. The pub is quiet in the middle of the week. Patrick should try to get some groups to host recurring events here, like book clubs, or girls’ night out, or even a hiking or running club. I’ll have to suggest it to him.

After I push the perfect pints of Guinness—light tan foam sitting on top of the deep brown liquid—I pick up my phone to answer Reese’s texts. I should tell them something more. It’s time they at least know that I’m not coming back to New Jersey before the road trip.

Me

So many questions. :)

Me

Can you trust me to manage my life? Please?

Reese

I suppose I could try, lol

Me

I’ll likely meet you all in Ireland directly from Saint Lucia

Reese

Really? You must need a new set of clothing??

Oh, sister. I cackle to myself, looking up quickly to see if the two men noticed. They didn’t.

Reese might be surprised at how one could make a Caribbean wardrobe work in Ireland with the addition of a few key items of warm clothing. I’m basically a local now.

Stella

Want to swing by London and travel together? I checked and there are direct flights to London from Saint Lucia, but none from Saint Lucia to Dublin

Reese

I’m so proud of you, Mads. Doing so awesome in school after all these years!

Great. A reminder how much of a disappointment my past is. Reese’s pride in me stings. Pride in something that I’m not doing.

And Stella... She will be hurt when she finds out I was so close to her all this time.

Me

That would be awesome, Stella! But let me finalize my travel plans first. Gotta run!!

Too many exclamation points. Does that make it look like I’m lying? But they have no reason to suspect, which almost makes it worse. I slide my phone back under the bar, since this dress doesn’t have pockets.

“Maddie!” A whoosh of cool air sweeps into the bar, Noreen in the center of it.

“Hey. Glad you stopped in.” I have a bunch of unanswered texts from the estate agent about whether or not I’m renewing my lease.

“What’s the decision? No one is waiting to book the flat, but your lease is technically up this weekend, and with tourist season approaching, we’ll certainly have some short-term tenants.”

She slides onto a barstool.

“I’ll stay for another month.”

“Oh, lovely.”

“I already changed my flight.” I practically whisper to her, my co-conspirator.

Noreen grins, brown curls falling out of her messy bun and against her neck.

“Does this have anything to do with a tall, dark, handsome bartender?”

A blush heats my cheeks. It makes sense everyone in town knows there’s something going on between me and Patrick. We haven’t tried to hide it.

“Maybe.”

“He seems so happy these days.”

I bite my lip, suppressing my schoolgirl smile. “We’re just hanging out. I haven’t even told him I’m staying longer, so don’t say anything yet.”

“Of course. Whatever it is between you two, it’s doing him good. Patrick’s had a tough go of it. He hasn’t dated anyone for years.”

My curiosity is piqued. I know he got back to Dingle five years ago, but when was the last time he was with someone besides a passing tourist? If ever? I told him about my exes—at least that the ten of them exist—but he hadn’t offered any information in return. I already know about Cara, and I guess she’s the most important one. The only one, maybe.

“You’ve lived here the whole time?” I shouldn’t ask her about Patrick’s past. I know that. If I have questions, I should ask him, not someone else.

But didn’t she bring it up?

“My whole life.” Noreen smiles at me. “I could never leave Dingle.”

“You said it’s been years, but has Patrick dated anyone since he’s been back?”

Ah, fuck, I can’t help myself.

She blinks at me and her smile fades.

“He . . . didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Uh-oh.

Noreen makes a low humming sound. “I don’t think I should be the one.” She glances over her shoulder at the door and subtly slides off the barstool.

Now I’m starting to freak out. What’s she talking about that’s making her so uncomfortable?

“Noreen.” I have to know. I can’t let her leave without finding out. “Tell me.”

So many potential situations fly through my mind. Did he knock someone up? Is he divorced?

“Well... ” Noreen sighs deeply, surely regretting stopping by the pub. “A year after Patrick got back into town... he and I dated.”

“What?” That is the last thing I expected her to say. And what the fuck? Patrick dated Noreen? His estate agent? And didn’t tell me?

“I’m sorry if that’s awkward. I just thought he’d have mentioned it.”

“No, he didn’t. But it’s not awkward, it’s totally fine, of course. It’s not like he and I are together together, you know?” A high-pitched squeak escapes my mouth. “We’re just... hanging out. So not awkward at all. Not even a little bit.”

Of course it is. So much so.

I’ve been interacting with Noreen this whole time and he didn’t think to let me know that she’s his ex? It’s close enough to a lie that it stings.

A tiny little betrayal.

I search for something else to say, and Noreen studies me with wide eyes.

“We weren’t very serious. It only lasted about six months.” Noreen rubs her hands together, like she’s cold or nervous, and darts another look at the exit.

Six months? That’s longer than my longest relationship. I nod my head, unsure of what the appropriate response is here.

Silence falls between us. Deeply uncomfortable silence. I search for something to say.

“What’s the quirkiest thing you’ve done in Ireland?” I blurt out. “For the road trip I’m planning.”

Her eyes widen even further. A what the fuck look.

“Um...” She squints. “Are you going to Northern Ireland?”

“Yup.” I nod, thrilled we’ve moved off the topic of her and Patrick.

“There’s a spot called the Madman’s Window. It’s two large limestone boulders along the sea that form a natural rocky window to the ocean. Long ago, a grieving man visited the spot every day to try to spot his love, who had drowned. It’s said he went mad.”

I blink about a billion times.

“Cool. Thanks.”

Noreen gives me a funny look and excuses herself.

What was I just saying about fitting in? That interaction clearly says otherwise. Obviously, I don’t know everything about Patrick. Or anything, really. In a normal relationship, there would be time for that. In this one? Not so much.

It’s all a reminder that the man I’m sharing a bed with and opening up my heart to is basically a stranger.