Sybil woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a text from Tom to meet him at the Bran Pub. At first, her heart flurried at the sight of the name until she realised that it belonged to Tom Branson.

When she arrived at the pub, she realised that it was far different than what she remembered from the night before. In the daylight, it seemed more – well, Irish. The walls were painted a murky yellow and clovers were painted across. Green banners hung from the ceiling with Gaelic writing and as Sybil took a seat, she noticed the tables were carved with intricate patterns.

"Anything I can get you, love?" the waiter asked.

"Um, I'm actually here to see Tom?" Sybil replied. The waiter put his notepad down and gave her a curious onceover.

"So, you're the English brood who's taking Tommy around Ireland," he stated.

"Excuse me?"

The waiter shook his head and yelled at the back door, "Tommy, your gal's here."

Sybil felt the eyes of the other patrons turn towards her and she slid down in her chair, trying to shield her face with her hand. When she looked back up, she found Tom walking towards her, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Hope Kieran didn't scare you," Tom said, sitting down opposite her. "He can be an arse at times, but he's a teddy bear."

"We should get something to eat quickly," Sybil replied. "And then head off as soon as we can."

"Slow down, Speedy Gonzales. We have all the time in the world for that."

Sybil glared at him. "No, we have six days actually and if my estimations are correct, then it should take us no less than two."

"Are you always this ray of sunshine in the morning?"

"Apparently only when it comes to you," Sybil said with a forced smile.

He seemed to take the hint and went off to the kitchen, leaving Sybil by herself. She hadn't meant to be rude. In fact, it surprised that she had snapped so quickly. It was unlike her and as she rubbed her fingers over her temples, she thought back to two days before when she made the decision to come to Ireland.

"Sybil, are you sure you're okay there?" Edith called out from the nursery.

"I'm fine. You take care of my godson," Sybil replied as she settled on the couch. She grabbed the remote and began switching through the channels and just as she was about to close the television, a film came on and she found herself leaning in closer to the box.

"He's being awfully cranky today," Edith said, entering the room with baby Johnny in her hands. "Anthony and I have barely had any sleep the last couple of weeks."

"Hmm," Sybil replied. She had her eyes glued to the screen and as Edith sat down next to her sister, she let out a sigh, realising what was on television.

"Are you okay to watch this? I can change the channel if you want?"

"I get enough patronizing from Mary, Edith. I don't need it from you as well."

Edith grew silent and Sybil shook her head, lowering the volume.

"I'm so sorry," Sybil said. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Edith moved Johnny to sit between them on the couch. She reached out for Sybil's hand and squeezed it gently. "It's understandable. It's nearly been a year. Listen, why don't you stay around for dinner? Anthony would love to see you and you can spend more time with Johnny here."

Johnny seemed to pick up on his name and began giggling, saliva dropping down on his chin.

"He's grown so big now. I feel like I've barely seen him," Sybil said, tugging at Johhny's finger. She knew her words were true. The last time she had seen him was over a month ago at their parent's anniversary dinner. "But I should go. I have to do something."

"You're always welcome here," Edith said. "Always."

"Here we are, eggs and sausage and bacon. You're not some freak vegetarian, are you?" Tom said, placing the plates on the table.

"Actually, I am," Sybil replied. She watched as an uncomfortable expression settled on his face, before she added quickly, "I'm just joking."

Tom instantly let out a sigh and pretended to wipe his brow. "Oh, so now you're funny. It's good. I'd rather that than angry English lady." He sat down and began digging into his food, motioning for her to start.

She hadn't realised how hungry she was until she took her first bite of the sausage and instantly devoured the rest of her breakfast. It was a welcome change to the last meal she had had – dinner on the airplane – and as she finished off her last bite, she found Tom smirking at her.

"I take it you liked it?" he replied.

"My compliments to the chef."

"I'll let Kieran know that he's good for something then."

"So…" Sybil began, putting her plate aside and pulling out a map from her bag. She spread it out on the table, their destinations clearly marked with a large cross. "As I said before, it should take us no less than two days to travel."

Leaning over, Tom looked at her map. "Nope. Can't do that. It's not the Irish way."

"I'm paying you, remember?"

"Let's talk about that first, actually," Tom replied, his eyebrows raised. "Since you're making me take you all the way to up north and then back down again, I'm thinking 1500? That should settle everything."

"Excuse me," Sybil exclaimed. "That's far too much."

"Alright, 1200."

"900."

"1100."

"A grand."

"Deal," Tom said enthusiastically, sticking out his hand. Sighing, she shook it and he gave her one of his infamous grins that was she knew she already was sick of.

"Are you sure it'll work?"

Sybil folded her arms over chest and tilted her head, frowning at the so-called car in front of her. It was an old, old Diesel with scratches on its navy blue surface and dents on the doors. The car's aerial was crooked and looking in on the inside, Sybil could tell it was far worse than its exterior.

"What do you mean? She's beaut. Good ole Bess here," Tom said, walking around to Sybil. "She's never failed me before."

"Have you seen the look of your car?"

"You should never judge a car by it's paint," Tom replied, wagging a finger at her. "The boot's been jammed for a while, so we need to put our stuff in the back seat, though."

Sybil raised an eyebrow as Tom opened the back door for her. "Are you sure there's not a body there or something?" she asked, throwing in her duffel bag.

Tom pretended to look aghast and drew a cross across his chest, replying, "Cross my heart or else I ain't Irish."

When they left the Bran pub, it was close to midday and according to Tom, their first stop – the Bog of Allen – was only an hour away.

"You were saying?" Sybil said, as they only managed to travel several blocks, the streets heavily congested with traffic.

"Well, it's a Sunday. It's good luck to travel on a Sunday," Tom replied as he stretched his arms, sticking one out of the window.

"A superstition? You believe in them? And please don't say because you're Irish."

Tom pressed his foot on the accelerator as the cars in front of them began to move. "Well, I am. I happen to believe in many things actually. I believe that we need more equality in the world and that some governments are complete shite. I believe in God and yes, I believe in superstition."

He glanced at her in the rearview mirror, waiting for some outburst, but to his surprise, she had grown silent. "I'm guessing you're not a believer."

"I'm not sure what I believe in," she said with a shrug. At least not anymore, she thought.

"You should always have something to believe in," Tom said with a nod. They weaved through the streets of Dublin, passing by the old brick buildings and for every pub, there seemed to be a church nearby. As Sybil took polaroids, Tom babbled about the history of the certain buildings until they left the city and he stopped, having realised that Sybil hadn't said a word.

"Am I boring you?" Tom joked.

Sybil shook her head. "No, of course not. I think it's wonderful you're so passionate about your city. "

Tom grinned. "'Course I am. It's where I grew up. What about you? I imagine you grew up in one of those nice English houses in London."

"Not quite." Sybil bit her lip, deciding it was better to keep some things to herself. "I grew up in Yorkshire, but I moved to London to study."

"Ah, photography?"

Sybil held up her camera. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well, I was going to guess astrophysics but the camera was a bit of a giveaway. You do realise that there are such things as digital cameras? You wouldn't have to carry that large thing all the time."

"Says the one who has a piece of junk as their car."

"Hey, Bessie here is sexy beast," Tom said, stroking the dashboard. "It's okay, dear. The rude English lady didn't mean it."

Sybil scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. She still couldn't believe that here she was on the way to Bog of Allen with a stranger. Sure, she knew bits about Tom, but still, he wasn't Jones.

"Come on, Sybs. We'll be late," Jones cried out. "If we're too late to enter, I'm not taking you again."

"I'm coming. Don't worry!"

As she stepped into the living room, she found him in front of the hallway mirror, dressed in a grey suit with his black hair combed back, desperately trying to knot his tie properly.

"You look dapper," Sybil said as she moved in front of him, taking the silk from his hands. "Who knew all it took was the theatre for you to dress up."

"You look just as nice," he said. "You know, Sybs. I've been thinking and since Christmas is coming up, how about we take that long awaited trip to Ireland?"

She tugged on his tie and replied, raising her eyebrow, "You mean your long awaited trip?"

"Our long awaited trip. You've always wanted to see the Cliffs of Moher ever since you found out it was in The Princess Bride." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"We can't," Sybil said, swatting at his chest. "We promised your parents we'd stay with them for Christmas."

"Ah, they won't care. Please." He pouted, his brown eyes in puppy mode and instantly she found herself giggling at his face.

"Is that a yes then?" he asked eagerly and as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, she answered, "It's a 'we'll see'. Now come on, I don't want to be late for Once."

"And this is it. The Bog of Allen. Great name - Allen. I have an uncle with that name. Used to give me candy all the time," Tom said. He moved closer to Sybil, watching her as she surveyed the land. Even though the Bog was historic, known for its peatlands, Tom had no idea why a young woman like Sybil would want to visit it. All that was there were acres of dirt and mud with patches of green throughout. In fact, he was sick of it himself, having visited numerous times when he on school excursions.

Letting out a sigh, Sybil crouched to ground and took a photo of a cluster of white flowers.

"Did you know," she began, looking up at Tom through her sunglasses, "that it took over 10,000 years for the Bog to form?"

"I did," Tom said, "but how did you know that?"

Sybil shrugged her shoulders. "I'm full of fun facts," she replied, but as her smile slipped away, Tom could tell there was more to it. "How far is it to the Giant's Causeway?"

"Nearly four hours, give or take."

Standing up and shaking the dirt off from her jeans, Sybil then took out a piece of paper and pen from her purse and crossed out something on the page. "It's just the list," Sybil explained as she could feel his prying eyes. "Shall we be off, then?"

"Whatever you say, m'am."

AN: Ahh, tremendously sorry for the delay! Uni's just been a pain and I started a new job. I've never been to Ireland before, so forgive me if I make any mistakes concerning the country. Hope y'all enjoy and let me know what you guys think :)