Page 104 of Since We're Here
“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.
