Page 40 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

“You’re always finding trouble, Nataly.” Nathan keeps his eyes ahead, but that lopsided smirk isthere, teasing me like heknowsexactly how much it’s going to unravel me.

“I think I get myself into trouble just fine on my own,” I mutter, pulling my jacket tighter around me. But I can feel it—his gaze, heavy on the side of my face, like he’s peeling back my layers. And maybe he already knows. Maybe he canseethat I’m drowning in my own guilt.

Nathan, unlike me, is not the type to sidestep confrontation. Where I brush things under the rug and pretend not to notice the lump, he lifts the rug and stares the mess straight in the face. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t stall.

“So.” His voice is calm, measured. “Why haven’t you broken up with Joel earlier if you’ve been unsure about him this whole time?”

My mouth goes dry. I knew this question would come eventually—but from him, in this moment, it feels like a spotlight on my failure. The question lands heavy in the space between us, but his tone is light, like he’s treading carefully. Like he knows the weight it carries for me.

I exhale, letting my breath linger in the night air. “You make it sound so straightforward. And really, itisstraightforward. But living in my head is a little more complicated. I hate confrontation, unless it’s with my parents.” I force a small laugh, but it dies too quickly. “I hate the thought of hurting someone. And Joel… he’s the first Christian guy I’ve ever dated. Iwantedto feel more for him. I kept thinking, ‘Maybe if I wait, the feelings will come.’ But they never did.”

Nathan hums, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Sounds like you’re going to have to learn that lifecomeswith confrontation. And sometimes, doing the right thing means someone gets hurt. That’s life. It’s messy. It’sreal.What matters is your heart. Your intentions.” His voice is steady, like he’s known this truth for years, like he’s already had to learn it the hard way.

I nod slowly. He makes it sound so simple.And maybe itissimple. I’ve just been too scared to admit it. This man sounds like he’s a vault of wisdom.

We’re nearing the Dominion Theatre, but the front entrance is closed now, the doors locked and the street nearly empty. The neon lights from nearby shops cast glows of red and blue against the pavement.

“I think we’ll have to go around the back, Nataly,” Nathan says, tilting his head toward the side alley.

I follow his lead, my heartbeat picking up for no reason other than the fact thathe’s here, next to me, saying my name like it belongs in his mouth.

When we reach the side entrance, the door is thankfully unlocked. Nathan holds it open, and if I weren’t currently having a full-body, emotional meltdown inside, I’d take a moment to appreciate this gentlemanly side of him.

I walk up to the counter, nerves bubbling again. “Hi! I think I forgot my wallet here earlier. Do you have a lost and found?”

The woman at the desk offers a polite smile. “Let me check.”

She disappears into the back for a moment, and my stomach twists with worry. I amnotin the mood to replace my debit cards and ID right now.

When she returns, she shakes her head. “Sorry, nothing back there.”

Panic starts rising in my throat. “Would it be okay if I checked in the auditorium?”

She gives me a nod, and Nathan leads the way inside again. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t make me feel silly for retracing my steps, justwalkswith me—like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be on a lost-wallet rescue mission with a girl who may or may not have shattered his expectations today.

When we reach our old seats, I get down on my hands and knees, scanning the floor. And then?—

“Ahhh,yes!” Relief rushes through me as I grab my small pink wallet from underneath the seat. I get up, clutching it like it’s a long-lost treasure. Some of the tension in my chest eases.

As I stand there, clutching my wallet like a lifeline, I look up—and he’s still there. Not rushing me, not judging me. Just… steady. And it hits me like a freight train: this is what it feels like to be seen. Really seen.

“I’m glad you found it,” he says, his smile easy. “Let me walk you out.”

The way he says it—it’s casual, but it’s also not. I don’t knowhowI know, but I justdo.

We step back outside, the London night crisp and cool. The streets are still alive, the distant hum of conversation, the occasional honk of a taxi.

“What are you up to this week?” I ask him as we begin to head out the doors, trying to soundnormaleven though I’m still reeling from the earlier conversation. I’m grateful he’s walking me to the station because I just prefer not having to walk alone at night when it’s dark. My dad never really let me do it when I was a teenager—I always had to be home before the sun was down. Otherwise, my mom would pick me up wherever I was. So as much as I love walking around in London, I much prefer doing it with people than I do by myself.

“I’ve got work. Then this weekend, I’m heading to Barcelona for a week and a half with some friends, Will and Henry.”

“Will as in the pastor?”

Nathan chuckles. “One and the same.”

I groan dramatically. “Barcelona is permanently ingrained in my mind fromThe Cheetah Girls 2.It owns that city for me.”

Nathan raises an eyebrow. “The what?”

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