Chapter 13 An Experiment in Misunderstandings with Sausages
Orla and Bill had a beautiful spread for breakfast when I made my way to the kitchen the next morning.
Tadhg was fully dressed and morning-ready to an aggressive degree.
When I arrived looking rumpled, he made a face that very clearly communicated he’d been up for several hours and my haphazard attempt at waking before noon was found wanting.
“Maya, oh, there you are. Good morning, dear.” Orla gave me a quick hug that I didn’t mind. “Did you sleep well enough up there? Wasn’t too drafty for you, I hope.”
“It was perfect! Those feather pillows are amazing. I feel like I slept for a hundred years.”
“You nearly did,” Tadhg said. Because why wouldn’t he? I guessed we were starting our morning with an asshole tournament.
“These two burly men have been out fixing the stone wall, so let’s get them fed and watered.”
Of course he was. Does he ever just watch TV or something? “What can I help with?”
“Oh, throw those sausages on a plate for me, would ye, love? And boil the kettle. I’ve got the cups here. Do you eat meat, Maya? I hope so.”
“I eat everything. This all looks delicious! You should have woken me, I would have been happy to help cook.”
“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I walked over to put the stuff on the table. Obligatory eye roll from Tadhg just for me. “Bit late for that.”
“Sorry we can’t all move mountains before sunrise, asshat,” I said just for him.
“Just moving your arse would be a start.”
“Oh, is that what’s been on your mind all morning? My ass?”
His eyes flashed, but luckily, he didn’t have time for another jab before Orla’s voice broke in.
“Slip her a sausage, Tadhg. She’s gagging for it.”
He choked on his tea. “What?” he nearly shouted.
“Poor thing’s been staring at you with those doe eyes, getting ignored. Give her a sausage.” Tadhg blinked at Orla and then followed her gaze down to Finn.
“Oh, right. Finn. Of course. Yeah.” Tadhg ruffled Finn’s ears and selected a sausage from the plate. “You want this, baby? You’ve got to work for it. You know the drill. Come on, now, behave. Sit. Good girl. Beg. Lay down. Roll over.”
Exactly how wrong is it that I’m finding this erotic? Like on a scale from one to ten?
“So, where are you two young ones off to today, then?” Orla and Bill brought more bowls and dishes of food over to the table as they sat down and settled in next to us.
“I don’t really know. I loved your idea about the cave! But Tadhg gets plans from Jackie, and he never tells me anything.” I tattled on him and raised my eyebrows in a challenge.
“You have his number. Call him yourself.” He turned to Orla and said, “Oh, we’re headed to Killarney. Maya here has a big date tonight.” He raised his eyebrows too, and cocked his head to the side with the ghost of a smile. Damn!
Orla’s fork clattered on her plate. “A date?”
“I guess I do.” I shot eye daggers across the table.
“What sort of a date?”
“Well. The kind that Jackie set up for me.”
“What? You dark horse, you! You never mentioned that Jackie was helping you, Maya. That’s all very excitin’.”
“Yeah. It’s all part of the podcast, actually. I’m . . . dating my way across Ireland, I guess.” I looked away from Tadhg and smiled wryly at Orla. “It wasn’t the original plan, but Jackie is pretty convincing.”
“Oh, now. I can certainly agree with that. How’s it going so far, then?”
I laughed. “Honestly? A little crazy! All of the men but one have been way too old for me or way too young.”
“Really? Well, that seems odd, doesn’t it, Bill?”
“Guess so,” Bill said around a bite of bacon.
“I don’t see why Jackie would waste your time like that. One or two, maybe, but all of them seems a poor show. I wonder if he’s losing his touch.”
“Well, I can’t complain. I’ve been having a great time, and the dates are going to be great stories for my podcast.”
Orla chewed and narrowed her eyes at Tadhg ever so slightly.
“And you, Tadhg? You’re just . . . driving Maya around, then?”
“I am. You’re not the only one Dad has pulled the wool over.”
Her eyes narrowed a little farther as she studied him. She hummed and nodded but said nothing more on the subject. “So, are you going to visit the cave today, then? It would make a lovely little outing. The weather is fair for it, isn’t it, Bill?”
“Oh, I—”
“Here, have some more eggs.” She shoved them onto Bill’s plate without waiting for an answer. “Lovely day,” she said. “Perfect for it.”
Bill chewed a little more and sipped his tea before answering. “Beautiful,” he said. “Wish I could go meself.”
“I don’t think we have time for that today. It’s a fair drive,” Tadhg said, because he was diametrically opposed to all notions of fun (see fig. 5).
“Oh, sure, it’s on the way,” said Orla. “I’ll get Bill to draw you a little map so you don’t miss the path. Besides, I’ve already baked that cake I promised you. In fact, you should be getting in around lunchtime. Why don’t I pack you a couple of sandwiches as well?”
Tadhg started shaking his head before she even finished. “There’s no need, Orla. Thanks.”
And I made sure to say at exactly the same time, “We’d love that, Orla. Thank you so much!”
AN HOUR’S DRIVE, as it turned out, was plenty of time for an argument.
“So, just to be clear, what you want us to do is go searching around the shore for a sea cave using a map drawn on a napkin, then venture into that cave to . . . have a picnic?”
“With cake,” I added helpfully.
“So that you can take photos for social media.”
“Yeah. That’s basically it. Thanks for taking the time to recap for us.”
“The cave that we were told about specifically because people get trapped in it.”
“Also correct.”
“Was it not enough for you to nearly die on the Cliffs of Moher that now you want to witlessly fling yourself into a whole new set of dangers not twenty-four hours later?”
“For such a large man, you’re quite the old nanny, aren’t you?”
“If by ‘old nanny’ you mean I have enough brains to not want to climb into a sea cave with a soul-destroying banshee like yourself, then I suppose I am.”
“Let’s not pretend you have a soul to destroy. Anyway, Orla and Bill said they go often, and they assured us that the tide will have come and gone this morning already. It’ll be fine.”
“The news said that we might be getting some weather coming this way.”
“Might. Just like you might unclench your butt cheeks and stop scowling long enough to enjoy a slice of cake, but that’s not likely either.”
My phone rang. I’d had three calls the day before from completely random men, and one early that morning.
What was even worse than answering calls from random old farmers who had exactly zero information about me while they tried to assess my marriageability over the phone in a five-minute phone call, one might ask?
Doing it in front of Tadhg. That’s what.
I dug through my bag with dread, the way one might put their hand in a garbage disposal that they’d triple-checked was off.
Perhaps it would be Jackie answering my text from earlier and we’d have a lovely little chat?
Unknown number. Double damn!
I considered not answering, but with a vision of Jackie smiling his adorable smile in my mind’s eye, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d promised him I’d give the system a real try.
“Are you going to answer that? That ringtone is doing my head in.”
“Pfft. Everybody loves the NeverEnding Story soundtrack.”
“I will crash this car and kill us both.”
“Fine! Dammit!” I allowed myself one second to grimace, then pressed answer. “Hello?”
“Is this Maryanne?”
Shit in my shoe. “I guess so.”
“Jackie Kelly gave me your number.” I’ll bet he also told you that I look exactly like Blake Lively. “I’m called Derek.”
“How nice. Nice to, you know . . . meet you. Or whatever.” My eyes flashed up to Tadhg’s rearview and, of course, his eyes flashed at mine. But they had the amused crinkle of crow’s-feet instead of their typical furrow. He was already loving this. And I was already hating it.
“Good, good.”
“Yeah.” Oh God. He doesn’t know what to say either.
“So. Is that an accent I hear, Maryanne?”
Sure. Why not? I guess I can be Maryanne. “It is, actually. I’m from San Francisco.”
“SanFran.”
Or howbout no? “Sure.” Ew.
“Have you seen, um . . . Friends the TV show?”
“Uhh. Yeah, sure. I’ve seen Friends. Why?”
“That’s in San Francisco.”
“Uhh . . . I think it’s New York, actually.”
“Na. It’s definitely SanFran.”
I am going to individually pluck every one of my hairs out and then run naked through the streets screaming. “Let’s move on.”
“So ye live here now, then?”
“Not yet!” I decided to say, because it seemed easiest. I just wanted to get through this as quickly and quietly as possible without saying too much that Tadhg could overhear.
“Just need to find the right man, eh?”
“Exactly.” I need a lobotomy.
“So, tell me what type of man you’re looking for, Maryanne. And be honest.”
Be honest? What the hell, Derek? “Oh, uhhh . . . You know. Just the usual, I suppose.” Shittest answer in the history of answers. Maybe he’ll just think I’m boring and we can hang up.
“No. I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh, um. All right.” I closed my eyes and let out a pained exhale. I guess I’m just doing this. I guess this is my life now. I should have been an accountant. Or, say, a toenail-fungus remover. Literally anything else.
That was when I looked at Tadhg’s stupid eyes in the rearview, and inspiration struck. “Someone who’s always smiling. Always in a good mood. Super-sunny disposition. Sweet. Polite. Always knows just what to say. A real charmer, you know—”
“What about looks?”
“Looks?” I heard a little snort from the front seat. I shot him a dirty look in the mirror. “Oh, I don’t know.” I looked at Tadhg. “Short, blond, thin, never scowls.”
“That’s specific. Now, would you say that you’re attractive yourself, then?”
“What?”
“Would you call yourself a beautiful girl, like?”
This question caught me so off guard that I forgot for a second that Tadhg was listening. “Would I call myself beautiful?” I heard a little sound and saw Tadhg’s shoulders shaking. “I’m. I don’t know. I’m . . . not going to answer that.”
“That bad, are ye?” He laughed.
“Look, Deren, I’m sorry, but I’m in a car just now, and I’d really better get—”
“Derek.”
“Huh?”
“My name’s Derek, not Deren. It’s a bad sign if you can’t even get my name right.”
I took a deep breath and held it in. Counted to three. “Yep. It is a bad sign, Derek. There are lots of bad signs here. But thank you so much for calling. It was . . . distracting.”
“Sure. Would you still be interested in meeting for . . . ye know . . . a bit of slap and tickle?”
I choked on air. “Nope. No, I sure wouldn’t. Thanks for the offer. Goodbye, Darren.” I hung up.
“That sounded like it went well for ye.” I could hear the smug smile in his voice. I thought about throttling that fat neck of his, but we’d probably crash and die.
“Don’t. Say. A. Word. Not one stupid word.”