Page 3 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

“Do you think he’s gonna try and kiss me at midnight?”

Are we going to go public? Am I ready for that?

Joy raises an eyebrow. “Would you let him?”

I have two flaws (okay, more than two, but let’s focus): 1) I’m terrible at making decisions, and 2) I want everyone to like me. The thought of hurting someone makes me sick. I have a golden retriever personality. If you walk through the door, I want to immediately tackle you with love and sunshine. Is that a little strong? Maybe. But it’s just who I am. Conflict? Hard pass. Unless it’s with my parents—we lay it all out, especially at the dinner table. But they’re my parents.They love me.

“I guess we’ll see…” I trail off.

I’m not sure what tonight will look like. I’ll just go with the flow.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Joy says, doing a final spin in the mirror.

“You look amazing,” I tell her, standing to grab my bag. “Let’s go.”

Before we reach the door, she reaches for my arm. “Just promise me one thing?”

I glance up.

“Don’t stay with someone just because they’re safe. You need more than that.”

Her words linger longer than I expect.

And now, as my inner debate team gears up for another round—one side chanting,“Give him a shot! See where this goes!”while the other whispers,“You know this doesn’t feel like World Series love…”—I grab my coat and step out into the night, bracing for whatever it might bring.

2

Nathan

It’s New Year’s Eve tonight, and I’m wearing a leather jacket as a nod to theGreasetheme. That’s the height of my commitment to the costume. I don’t really do over-the-top. But I do appreciate a good vibe.

I park my motorbike and walk in, taking my time as I look around. The whole place looks incredible. Twinkly lights hanging from the high industrial ceilings, big open spaces filling up with people, music pulsing just loud enough to make the air hum. It’s got that perfect mix of excitement and ease, like the kind of night where anything could happen.

Jerome spots me and walks over, grin wide.

“Eyyy, Irish! What’s up, my man?” He grabs my hand and claps me on the back.

“Hey, bro. You good?” I pull back with a smile.

“You know, the usual. Just scanning the room to see if I’ll be blessed with a wifey soon.”

I laugh—typical Jerome banter. Jerome is one of those peoplewho is filled with a joy for life. He’s always the first one you’ll find on the dance floor. He brings the party with him wherever he goes.

“It’s New Year’s Eve. Anything could happen,” I say.

“Exactly. Let’s hit the photo booth. You know the girls love it,” he winks and nudges me toward the corner.

We make our way over to the photo booth, bumping into some of our friends.

The night’s just getting started. I’ve got a solid group here now, but that wasn’t always the case. When I first moved to London from Belfast a couple of years ago, this church felt… big. Too big, really. The kind of place where you could show up every Sunday and never have a real conversation.

That changed the night I went to my first connect group. It was held at someone’s house, and as we chatted, I found out it was one of the girls’ birthdays the following week, on the exact same day as mine. They invited me to her birthday party, and when I showed up, they brought out a cake for her... and one for me too. It was such a simple gesture, but when you’re new to a city where no one really knows you yet, it means everything. That night, being celebrated by people who had only just met me made something click. It felt likefamily. And in that moment, I decided to stay.

And I’m glad I did.

Now, I’m here, surrounded by friends, half-listening to whatever joke’s being told. We’re making our way over to the bar. But my attention keeps drifting toward the crowd. Not just because of the party. There’s someone I’m hoping to spot.

I haven’t met her yet, but I saw her in that video on the church WhatsApp group. The one where she introduced herself after winning the ticket competition. American accent, big energy, and a smile that looked like it could light up the whole room. She had this contagious kind of confidence, and yeah, I noticed the way she looked, too. Beautiful, no question. Her lips are full and pink. Her long, dark hair suits her so well. Her eyes—Ican’t tell what color they are yet, but I can tell they’ll speak their own language. Her cheeks are always coming to life under that smile. But it was more than her beauty. There was something about her presence, even through a screen, that made me sit up and pay attention.

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