Page 5 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

Katy’s smirk only deepens. “And what exactly are you planning to do about that?”

I hesitate, drumming my fingers against my glass. “I haven’t thought that far ahead,” I say, which is true because Ijust live life as it comes. “But I do know I won’t let the opportunity pass me by next time.”

And I mean it.

I don’t know what it is about her. Whether it’s the way she carries herself or that infectious energy… but there’s something. It’s enough to make me sit up and take notice. Enough to make me think that maybe this is one of those moments you don’t just let slip through your fingers.

While I may not know much about Nataly, that smile was constantly on her face—a contrast to any of the girls I’ve dated previously. The girls were nice, and everything wascomfortable. But there was never anything that made me pause and think I would want to spend the rest of my life with them.

Apparently, that’s just because none of them were Nataly.

And I don’t even know her yet.

I’m not the type to overthink. I make decisions quickly, not impulsively—but with whatever information I’ve got in front of me. When the time’s right, I’ll pursue her with the same clarity I approach everything else in my life. And when I do, she won’t have to wonder where I stand.

But still, in the back of my mind, there’s this little flicker of anticipation. Because sooner or later, I know our paths will cross. And when they do, I’ll be ready.

“Glad to hear it. So since you don’t have much useful information for me on that end,” Katy interrupts my thoughts with a knowing grin, “let’s discuss our trip to Belfast because Icannot waitto see more of Ireland!”

I roll my eyes. She’s teasing me. She knows Belfast is in Northern Ireland, a completely different country. It’s like saying Canada is part of the USA. But apparently, a lot of people don’t know the difference. And honestly, I don’t blame them. The Troubles haven’t exactly been highly talked about outside of Northern Ireland for years. The Good Friday Agreement’s been in place for over 15 years, and things have been peaceful. Thetourists are starting to trickle in. But being a native, I always have to set the record straight.

I’m heading home to Belfast for the weekend, bringing some of my London friends along. There’s nothing I love more than showing people my city. The good bits, the hidden spots. I’ve always believed home is something you share. And as much as I love adventure, there’s something about being back on familiar streets, around familiar people, that I enjoy.

“Alright, here’s what we’ll do…” I begin. We spend the next hour planning our trip, more friends joining us as the table fills up with laughter and conversation. And this—this family—is what I love most about our church. The way everyone’s so open, so welcoming. How easy it is to belong.

But even as I grab my helmet and coat, ready to hop on my motorbike and head home, there’s a part of my mind stuck on that first conversation with Katy.

I don’t know when I’ll see Nataly again. But I know this: if she’s someone I’m meant to know, I’ll get my chance.

When I do, I won’t let the moment slip by.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel it—something big is just around the corner.

3

Nataly

Okay, this is going to sound ridiculously silly and almost unbelievable. But I’m a visual person. My brain processes things visually, so when you say “January 16th to the 18th,” I automatically see a little dash in between: January 16th–18th. Naturally, the 17th disappears into the void. And that is my actual excuse for missing my mom’s birthday to go to Dublin with my friends. Honestly, it’s not even an excuse—it’s the truth.

My mind floats back to our conversation on the phone about it.

“Mom, I’m so sorry I scheduled this trip over your birthday. It didn’t even click in my mind!” I groaned, facepalming as the realization hit.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I don’t like a big fuss about my birthday anyway,” she said, all warmth and grace like always.

Yet that only made the guilt worse—like it’s unpacked a suitcase in the back of my mind and settled in with snacks. I promisemyself I’ll visit her soon in Bournemouth. Maybe I’ll bring flowers. Or chocolate. Or a puppy. (Would dad go for a puppy?)

But this is my first-ever mini weekend trip with friends. The extent of my solo travel so far has been going back to America, and eventhatwas a whole production trying to get my dad to agree to it. Dad’s the overprotective type. He basically wrapped me in cotton wool growing up and then bubble-wrapped me for good measure. No sleepovers, no parties, no late nights. I wasn’t allowed to evendreamof breaking the rules. And I never wanted to—not really. My inner debate team always talked me out of it. The ‘avoid unnecessary pain’ argument won by a landslide—because I knew it would lead to arguments and I wasn’t up for that. And I always listened to the debate team.

But now I’m living in London for university and finally making my own decisions! Yippee! (Read: cue my anxiety). Because when you grow up without many chances to mess up and learn from it, you end upterrifiedof making the wrong call. So accidentally missing my mom’s birthday due to a brain-visual-scheduling error? Ramps up the guilt just a bit. But I’m excited. This trip feels like the start of some long-awaited adventure.

There are about eight of us on this trip, all staying at the same hotel. Music drifts through the air—laughter, chatter, the occasional shout from someone outside. The air smells like rain and something warm and bakery-like I can’t quite place. And the cobblestones? They’re actively trying to kill me. My clumsy self can’t seem to put one foot in front of the other without occasionally tripping over something.

Tonight’s plan is to wander around, grab dinner, and take in the scenery. We’ll explore properly tomorrow. Right now, we’re all getting ready in our rooms.

The group chat is already chaotic.

Joy: WHERE ARE WE GOING?

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