Chapter 27

27

MADDIE

Wednesday, March 26

Boyfriend Disaster #8 : Paul, the Friend Who Looked Like Clark Kent

Job Location he legit looked like Clark Kent. We were friends—just friends—and god knows I wanted to keep it that way. He was a good dude. A good friend.

It worked until the last month. We’d shared a bottle of wine after a shift and ended up at my apartment. How could I resist a guy who looked like Superman? He was gone before dawn, and we pretended nothing had happened.

He did, anyway.

But my feelings had changed, and I wanted more. I thought maybe it was possible, but then he started dating the hot blond hostess, acting like nothing at all had happened between us. I couldn’t handle it. I told him I was leaving for better career opportunities, and he didn’t push me on it. Deep down, I think he knew why. We didn’t keep in touch.

I was thirty when I left.

Breakup Reason : We were just friends.

My Distress Level : 8, this one cut deep

Lesson Learned : Two lessons. First, sometimes friendships need to stay as friendships. Second, never trust a guy who is hotter than Superman.

A t four o’clock, Patrick walks through the door to O’Brien’s and looks at me with an intense gaze. What’s going on in his head? He was so quiet last night on the couch in my flat, which is fine as I can babble for hours on my own. When I asked him about it, he shook his head and said nothing . He made an excuse to sleep at his cottage without inviting me back.

I tried not to make anything of it, but it’s been bothering me ever since.

“Hey,” I say when he gets to the bar. I wish he’d kiss me. But there’s a lot of people here, including Ronan, so I get why he doesn’t.

Not that it’s stopped him before.

“Hello.”

“Did you have a chance to look through the hotel list I sent last night after you left?”

“Yes. Can you sit for a second?”

For a minute he looks so serious that nerves swarm my stomach like angry bees. I glance at Ronan, who gives me a nod.

I sit first, and Patrick settles in the chair across from me at the usual table. He offers me a strained smile, but my insides don’t untwist.

“So. Quirks, Tats, Brews, and Views. You’re really going to make us do all that weird shite you found?”

“Yup.”

He chuckles, but there’s strain on his face.

“I can’t wait.” I attempt a smile.

“I had a different suggestion for the Dublin hotel. It’s closer to Temple Bar area, but just far enough away that it shouldn’t be too expensive. Here, I’ll text you the link now.” He taps on his phone and mine buzzes. “I also sent you a link to a different one for Donegal. It’s in a more central area. They both had availability when I checked.”

“Whatever you suggest, sure. How about the rest?”

“Agree on Saoirse’s hotel for when we’re in Dingle. I wish we could all fit comfortably in the cottage, but it’d be tight and then we’d have to drive to get to the city center. We can walk everywhere from the hotel. The Belfast hotel looked good. And everything else was fine.”

“Thank you.” I smile at him. “See? It wasn’t so hard to help me.”

“You’re welcome.” He doesn’t smile back.

“I’ll be so relieved to finally get it all booked. I’m going to do it after my shift.”

He nods and looks around like he’s ready to get up. I don’t want him to leave the table yet.

“I love Dingle,” I say before he can stand. “But I’m excited to get out there and go on an adventure around Ireland, you know?”

“Mmm.” Patrick’s response is noncommittal, but a surge of excitement jets through me. There’s so much more to Ireland. I didn’t even see Dublin when I first arrived. I just got on a bus straightaway.

“I can’t wait to go to Temple Bar.” With my sisters and Oliver and Ethan and Patrick? It’s going to be an amazing trip.

Patrick just blinks at me.

“The more I research Northern Ireland, the more it tempts me. It’s so wild and incredible up there. Have you been?” I’m babbling, and I know it. But he’s looking at me like I’m a stranger.

“Yes. I have.” His face goes pale.

“Are you okay?” I scoot my chair, but he’s across the table, too far away. Something happened here and I have no idea what.

He shakes his head.

“Did I say something wrong?” I rewind to my babbles about traveling and adventuring around Ireland. Is that what he’s freaking out about? Maybe me acknowledging the fact that I’ll be leaving Dingle soon? I could tell him I’m staying longer. Now might be the right time. And I should wait for him to answer instead of just filling the air with my nonsense. But I can’t help myself.

“I’m most excited to see Ireland with you, though. My personal tour guide. And to have you meet my sisters.” I reach over for his hands, but he leaves them in his lap.

“And then you’ll go back to New Jersey.”

I blink about a hundred times and nod slowly. “I mean, yes, I guess that will happen.” My gut twists at the thought of leaving Dingle for good. Of leaving Patrick and this little life.

“And we’ll not see each other again.” He swallows and I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. He clenches his teeth so hard; I can see his jaw working, grinding.

“Well, there’s the wedding in June...” My head is spinning. “Hey.” I wish he’d take my hands, which are still lying palms up on the table, waiting. He doesn’t budge. “What’s wrong? Is this about me leaving?”

Maybe he’s thinking about how much he’ll miss me. Miss us. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.

Maybe it doesn’t?

“It’s exactly how it should be.” His eyes are cold, exacting.

“Huh?” Adrenaline spikes in my blood. I have flashes of ten boyfriends.

Of Paul, dating the blond hostess.

Todd, the married manager.

Franco, the barista poet.

Desperate Vinny.

Jacob, Brent, Jonathan, Cody.

Number nine, telling me he’d fallen for someone else.

Number ten and his new girlfriend’s Instagram feed.

The pain is in ten distinct layers just below the surface.

“You’re a tourist, here for an adventure. I gave you that adventure.”

“Don’t be like that.” I shake my head so hard it hurts. “I’m not just here for adventure. I was here... I don’t know... to figure things out.”

“And to lie to your family about where you are and who you’re with, right?”

I’m dumbfounded. What’s happening here?

“Why are you picking a fight with me?” My voice is soft and shaky. Since my bike accident, things with Patrick have been amazing. Perfect.

But now he sounds like he did that night of the inventory problem at O’Brien’s.

Patrick runs his hands roughly over his face.

“Madison.”

Go home.

Come on.

Leave.

He doesn’t want me here. Panic builds at my center. I don’t want to hear whatever he’s going to say. I don’t want him to continue.

“Why didn’t you tell me you dated Noreen?” It’s the first thing that pops in my head, but the instant the words are out of my mouth, I regret them.

He furrows his brow, temporarily disarmed. “Where did that come from?”

“I found out and thought it was weird you hadn’t told me.”

He shakes his head, his face draining of all remaining color.

“We should stop this.” Patrick gnaws on his bottom lip, an uncharacteristic nervous movement.

“Stop what?” But I don’t want to know. Because I do know.

He lifts a hand and slowly moves it back and forth between us. “Whatever is happening. You’re going to leave, and you should leave, because you don’t belong here. You belong in the US. In New Jersey.”

His words are harsh, yet calm. They don’t match his demeanor, which is closer to how I feel. Shoulders lifted protectively, back rigid, jaw ticking, his cold eyes the only part of him committed to his speech.

“Saoirse gave her official notice at the hotel. She’s going to come work at O’Brien’s full-time. As head manager.”

I have whiplash from the change in topic.

“Oh, okay, great. But let’s get back to...”

“And I hired another bartender this week.”

Realization dawns on me. He’s telling me I’m no longer needed.

“I can still help. I like it. I like... working here. Being here. With you.”

He pauses, assessing me, his body settling. He’s a stranger with a thin line for a mouth and heartless hazel eyes.

“You don’t want me to stay? After this week, and last week?”

“It’s been...” he starts in a low voice, the hand on his knee twitching as if he wants to reach out to me.

“It’s been what?”

But he doesn’t finish the sentence.

“We don’t know each other. Not really.”

“We know enough.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not interested in a relationship.” His voice is low, and he glances around, making sure no one is within earshot. “Not with you. Not with anyone.”

I flinch. Ouch.

“You want me to go?” I look pointedly at the entrance to the pub. “You don’t want to be with me?”

Patrick doesn’t respond. Just stares.

I push back my chair. Shame fills me, boiling out from my center and scalding every crevice of my body.

“So I should leave. I’m done at O’Brien’s? Done with you?” My voice is too loud, too shaky. I stand, waiting for him to reach out, to say something, anything . “If I leave now, I’m not coming back.”

Why did I say that? I don’t mean it. Won’t he stop me? He won’t let me walk out of O’Brien’s and out of his life. Will he?

Patrick moves his head in a slight nod. A humiliating sob escapes my throat, and that spot under his right eye twitches again.

“Well fuck you, Patrick McNulty. Just fuck you.”

I spin and walk away, grabbing my purse from behind the bar and ignoring Ronan’s wide eyes as I stomp out the door. My heart shatters in a million pieces as I emerge onto Main Street, pivoting to my flat and sprinting up the stairs.

My chest squeezes and my breath is short as I slam the door behind me and rest my back against it.

I can’t believe that just happened.

“This is bullshit,” I say to the empty, hot flat. Flaming hot. I hate this place.

I gotta get out of Dingle.

I told him if I walked out, I wasn’t coming back. I did mean it.

I pull my giant suitcase from the second bedroom into the bigger one and yank open all the drawers, tossing my clothes in haphazardly. I empty the closet, swipe all my toiletries into a plastic bag. Shove my books and odds and ends into my backpack. Open the fridge, pour the creamer down the drain, fill the trash.

When the flat is completely packed up, I crack open my laptop and book a flight to London.

Then I leave Dingle.