Page 43 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

Because if I don’t take it slow, I might just lose this self-control I’m so proud of. I’ve spent my whole life knowing what I want and going after it. I don’t hesitate. I don’t sit on the sidelines. But this time? I have to. I have to let her figure this out, end things properly, make her own choice.

Even if every muscle in my body is tense with the effort of not going after what I already know is mine.

Because she is.

She just doesn’t fully know it yet.

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out, and my stomach tightens at the name on the screen.

Nataly: I will do! I’m just hopping onto the DLR now. Thanks again for helping me find my wallet!

I stare at the message for a second longer than necessary.

And then I smile.

She doesn’t know it yet, but she better get used to my name lighting up her screen.

Because I’m not going anywhere.

18

Nataly

I’m about to break up with my boyfriend, and I think I might throw up in this stranger’s tote bag.

My stomach is a battlefield—tight, churning, like something is trying to claw its way out. My hands are clammy. My pulse is pounding so hard in my ears, I almost don’t hear the announcement for Canary Wharf. I’ve made up my mind and I’m just going to have to do it. Ugh. I need to focus on something else. I’m supposed to be seeing him really soon to grab a coffee. I texted him earlier about it and I’ve been feeling like an elephant sat on my stomach ever since.

Nataly: Hey, can we talk later today? Maybe grab a coffee?

Joel: Sure. I’ve got something I need to talk to you about too.

Nataly: Great, Starbucks, the usual place? 3pm?

Now, I’m on the tube, waiting for it to pull up to Canary Wharf. It’s always so silent on the tube because people in London don’t talk to each other on the tube. The unspoken rule is there. I’ve tried complimenting people on their outfits before, and the reactions are always the same—shock, suspicion, then relief when they realize I’m not a creep, just chatty. Ah, London. You do really get a mixed bag of people, but I think that’s wonderful. London is one of the best cities in the world, but today I can’t appreciate it. Not when my stomach feels like a blender someone forgot to put the lid on.

And now after all this thought contemplation, I’ve finally arrived at Canary Wharf. Oh flip. I’m not ready for this. Can someone else do this? Ugh.

“Face your fears, woman!” I tell myself inwardly.

“You are not allowed to be a coward! No more of this nonsense. Face the hard things. It’ll be better,” I continue my internal monologue.

I step off the tube onto the platform and start to make my way up the escalator. The Canary Wharf escalators have to be the scariest of them all. Surely, they’re the tallest in London? The ones outside the gates up to Reuters Plaza. I grip the handrail like my life depends on it—because honestly, right now, it kind of does. I feel like Buddy fromElfon the world’s tallest escalator, except instead of fearing for my life, I’m bracing myself for this breakup. Actually, I’m doing both. I have had too many embarrassing moments to do otherwise.

I find Starbucks, and go get in line to grab a hot chocolate. I’m not a coffee person. I only take my coffee like a Frappuccino. And then I wonder what’s the point? It’s basically milk and sugar with a dash of coffee. I’m also not even a tea person. I’ll need to be convinced tea is any good. So, a hot chocolate it is.

I’m also a little early so I can find a seat, but I’m not sure that’s the best idea because the anxiety is now full throttle. It’s like my gut is having a boxing match inside. Or aboombox inside my stomach. Something like that. But it’s very heavy. My legs are starting to feel heavy too. Like lead and?—

“Hey Nataly,” I hear a voice from behind me and turn my head to look.

“Hey Joel,” I reply, my breath hitching as I motion for him to have a seat. I quickly shake my hands underneath the table to get rid of the pins-and-needles feeling.

“How’s it going?” He says as he places his coffee down and grabs a seat.

I draw in a breath and let it out slowly. I blurt out, “I’m just going to say it. I’m feeling kind of anxious right now, so I can’t really beat around the bush.”

His brow furrows. “Okay…”

I swallow hard. Here goes.

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