Page 96 of Experiments in Offline Dating

“Fine. We might talk about books. One day. Maybe. If I’m in the mood. But not now, because this is supposed to be quiet reading time, and you told me you wanted to wallow in the drudgery of your own company, and I would never want to disappoint you.”

“Pffft. That’s literally all you want to do.”

He turned slightly away from me and opened his book on his knee, and after feeling the full minute’s annoyance that he had intended, I followed suit.

“Damn! The Name of the Wind. I don’t think I know you at all, Tadhg Kelly.”

“Good,” he grumbled. “Just the way I like it.”

But there was humor in his voice, and he had sat next to me, after all. And I belatedly noticed that he’d said “didn’t want to talk”: past tense.

We quietly finished our tasty breakfast paninis, a glass each of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and a bowl of fat, delicious chips (see: fries) that Tadhg had ordered to split “to chase off the hangover.”

When we were done, I bought us two cappuccinos and we stayed for an hour, and then two, with our legs stretched out to the other bench across the table, sipping our coffees, reading our books, and watching people go by. Finn, after receiving pets from strangers and a few sandwich scraps, had a bowl of kibble and water and curled up under Tadhg’s legs for a little nap.

It was . . . really nice. I was so glad we’d had that conversation the night before. I had wanted things to go back to the way they had been, but this was nothing like the way it had been. Somehow, after all the drama, what we’d needed was an earnest talk and a drink together, and this new something, whatever it was between us, felt suspiciously like the first stirs of not loathing each other.

It was strangely cozy and companionable. At some point, he quietly got up and left me with Finn and came back with two different slices of cake. He slid them between us on the table and, without a word, put down two forks and went back to his reading.

We ambled back to the Jeep looking for all the world like a couple on a lazy Sunday stroll with their sweet dog. But when we got there, one particular memory from the night before flooded into my dehydrated brain. Oh no.

I looked at Finn, tongue lolling, totally oblivious, and then I looked at Tadhg. His eye caught mine, and a world of things that probably should have been left unsaid the night before thickened the air between us.

“So . . .” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Well. Here goes nothing.”

Tadhg leaned down and whispered something to Finn and gave her a few extra head scratches. She gave him a lick on the cheek, unsure what was happening, but delighted with the extra attention. Then he opened the door, pulled the seat up, and held it back the way he had done for me so, so many humiliating times.

“Come on, girl. Jump up.”

Finn took a few confused steps back.

“Come on, baby. Hop in.” He leaned in and patted the backseat.

She let out a confused whine. Oh, come on, you big faker!

“Finn.” He was a little bit sterner this time, and it made my skin prickle. “Let’s go.” Anywhere you want, big boy. No! Shut up! I should see a therapist. She finally jumped up and sat her rump in the seat with a huff.

“Good girl, sweetheart.” Tadhg leaned back in and ruffled her ears. I wondered what I would have to do to get him to say that to me. And then I passed out.

Tadhg got in and braced his arm firmly between the two front seats, presumably to stop Finn from changing her mind about the arrangement and/or trying to take a chunk out of me in a jealous rage.

“Now it’s your turn.” He leveled me with a look that I assumed was meant to tease me. “Come on. You can do it. Sit. There you go.”

Hot flashes!

Tadhg’s arm was still between the seats, hand curled around the back of my headrest, and it felt oddly intimate.

We waited for a minute in silence, wondering what Finn would do next. She gave the tiniest of growls, huffed out some hot air, and then stretched her legs out and lay down across the seat.

“There you go, baby. Daddy will give you a bone when we get in tonight.”

Holy shit. Is he doing this on purpose now?

“What about me?” I tried to fight back a smirk.