Page 54 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

“It went okay…” I trailed. “I think he wasn’t ready for me to break up with him, though.”

“I can imagine. Ever since he came down here, asking for your hand and all. We gave him permission, but I knew you weren’t all-in after our conversation.”

“I'm not even sure why he asked for it in the first place. It felt like a 180. Maybe he thought it was the natural progression of the relationship?”

“Maybe, sweetheart. But it’s hard not to love you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Mom, you’re supposed to say that. You’re my mother!”

“Filhinha, you know me well enough to know that no bias will keep me from telling you the truth. And that is simply the truth.”

“That’s true. You’ve literally shown me babies and said, ‘Poor kid—maybe they’ll be good-looking later.’ That’s how I know you’re honest,” I laughed.

“Those poor ugly babies. I hope they’re like caterpillars and grow into beautiful butterflies,” she said in all seriousness.

I laughed. I find her absolutely hilarious. She tells everyone like it is, yet her warmth and charm radiate, making her the most lovable person in the room. She’s always showered with gifts and love from her teams every time she changes jobs.

It was so good to keep her in the loop about everything that’s happening, and to know she supported me.

But now?

Now, I’m back in London. And I’m on the tube to see Nathan.

My heart thrums against my ribs, and the nerves kick up a notch.

We haven’t kissed yet. Haven’t defined anything. It’s only been a few weeks since Joel and I ended. And Nathan… he’s been patient. He’s given me space, pursued me without pressure.

But tonight? Tonightfeels different.

I check my phone again. His last text from earlier still sits there, teasing me.

Nathan: Can’t wait to see you. I’ve got something to show you when you get here.

I take a deep breath.

Stay calm. Play it cool.

Which is easier said than done when I know that in just a few minutes, I’m going to see Nathan’s face again.

And if I wasn’t already falling for him before? I know I don’t stand a chance now.

He invited me over for dinner. He lives with a housemate, and he wanted to cook for me. If that’s not swoon-worthy, I don’t know what is.

I’ve just gotten off the tube at West Kensington and I’m following the directions to his house. My heart pumps in rhythm with the quick pace of my steps, a steady drumbeat that only seems to pick up speed the closer I get. It’s like my pulse has its own anthem, and I’m moving to its rhythm.

I finally find my way and knock on the door. Nathan opens it immediately, and as a small gust of wind whips past me, it also knocks the breath out of my lungs as I see him. My heart is officially in my mouth. His eyes catch mine, warm and intent, and suddenly, my stomach is performing a full Olympic floor routine. Gold medal-worthy.

“Come on in.” His voice is low, inviting, and there’s the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

“Ooo a surprise?!” I grin, my pulse skipping ahead. If I had one of those fancy smartwatches, I’d probably set a new personal heart rate record.

He takes me through the hallway and into the living room,where the kitchen and dining room combine. The smell of pasta cooking makes it feel warm and cozy. It’s a small London flat, but a good size for two. It’s got high windows that let a lot of light into the living space, and it’s all white. I love how the high ceilings make a big difference to that. I’ll have to tuck that mental note away for later as I notice what he’s doing.

Nathan picks up a small wrapped box from the coffee table and settles onto the sofa, gesturing for me to sit next to him.

“I got you something from Barcelona. It’s nothing big,” he says, slinging his arm over the back of the couch, just inches from my shoulder. “It just reminded me of you.”

Nothing big? My heart squeezes. The fact that he thought about me while he was in Barcelona—that I was on his mind enough to bring something back—feels anything but small.

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