Page 59 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

It means I haven’t seen Nataly as much as I want to. But it’s given us a lot of opportunity to have late night phone calls. We’ve talked for hours each night—under the guise of keeping me awake on a monotonous journey. Each conversation is filled with so many things we want to know about each other.

I don’t normally find it easy to ask people questions. My family isn't the best at communicating. We always try our best, though.

But with Nataly, it’s just too easy to get caught up in hours of conversation. It’s like every new thing I learn about her pulls me deeper. I want to know her favorite songs, what makes her cry, what makes her laugh so hard she can’t breathe. I want to know every detail, every story, every little thought that passes through her mind. And the best part? She wants to know me too. There’s no games. There’s plenty of flirting—but there’s no mixed signals. She makes everything feel easy and uncomplicated.

She’s not guarded. She doesn’t have her walls up, her defenses ready to fight me. She wears her heart on her sleeve in a way that is confident, strong, and emotionally secure. She’s willing to put herself out there and risk rejection. She’s willing to love and lose, because love is worth it all. That’s so different. It’s not often you see that type of vulnerability. It makes me want to protect her. Love her.

As I’m making my way back from Wales and I’m now 30 minutes away from my house, it’s broad daylight. I decided to take the earlier boat so I could be back in London during the day and I can have a good night’s sleep tonight. I can’t help but think back on our conversations. She hung up a little while ago because she had to go to class, but her voice is still ringing in my mind. My hand twitches on the steering wheel, resisting the urge to grab my phone and send her something silly just to keep her talking to me a little longer.

I love that the conversations range from silly stuffto deep and meaningful. I love how much fun she brings to everyday life. Just earlier, we were talking about some of her childhood and embarrassing moments.

“I used to be a sleepwalker,” she said. She gave a little pause after she admitted it. I could hear in her tone she finds it a little embarrassing.

“Sleepwalking?” I asked. I left the door wide open for her to fill in with a story I knew was inevitably coming.

“I have lots of stories.Or, should I say, my friends have lots of stories of me growing up.” I could hear the smile in her voice before she even laughed. The kind of laugh that makes me grin just hearing it. “But my favorite one has to be the one at home, at my parents’ house when I was about thirteen.”

“What happened?” I can just tell by her laugh this will be an entertaining one.

“Well, I fell asleep on the couch for some reason that night. My parents were talking in the kitchen, and they could see out of it into the living room. All they see is me, getting up from the couch, and making my way to the front door of our apartment. Naturally, they’re confused, so Dad comes over to me and sees me pulling down my pants. And he asks, ‘Nataly, what are you doing?’ And I replied with ‘I need to go to the bathroom’ apparently like in a ‘duh’ sort of way. Because of course, why wouldn’t I be needing to go to the bathroom at the front door?” She laughs as she says this sarcastically.

I’m grinning already.

“So, then he says, ‘Nataly, that’s not where the bathroom is’ and I’m like, ‘I HAVE to go to the BATHROOM’ in a like ‘Dad why aren’t you letting me do my business in peace, thank you very much’ and he has to physically drag me all the way to the bathroom, and I wake up on the toilet wondering where I am.”

I start laughing down the phone.

“That’s hilarious. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of anyone sleepwalking before. Do you still do it now?”

“No, thank God, that’s something I’ve grown out of. But I hear I’m still a sleep talker.” I can almost hear a blush in her voice.

“Well, I’d love to hear it someday.”

Am I thinking of our future already? Of finding out what kind of ring she wants so I can make this a forever thing? Waking up next to her for the rest of my life?

Yeah. And the craziest part? It doesn’t feel crazy at all. It feels like the most natural thing in the world.

But there’s some people I want her to meet first, and I haven’t even asked her to be my girlfriend yet, let alone my wife. But I don’t do anything halfway. If we’re doing this, I’m all in. And if there’s one thing I know for sure?

She’s it.

Now, time to introduce her to my world.

I’ve been home a day, and I already have to go back again tomorrow. Tonight is a friend’s birthday; my friends are all gathering to celebrate, and I want to take Nataly. We’re still not official, which is exactly why I want her to meet my friends now. They’ll all know her already when I finally make her my girlfriend.

I told her where to meet me—at this restaurant in Central London—and I can’t wait to see her. Tonight she’ll have to dress up for dinner, and I’m especially looking forward tothat. I haven’t seen her dressed up since New Year’s Eve.

She should be here any second. My pulse already knows it. It kicks up, thrumming under my skin. I can’t wait to grab her by the waist, to feel her close. Iespeciallycan’t wait to kiss her senseless again, but since we’re not public yet, that’ll have to wait until the end of the night when I drop her off. I don’t know how I’m supposed to wait that long, but I guess I’ll have to.

I just need to make her my girlfriend. And I’m already working on a plan to make that happen—soon.

I hear a soft, “Hey, you,” andturn around.

Wow.

She’s wearing a black, one-shoulder mini dress with heels to match.

It knocks the breath out of my lungs. My pulse kicks up. My throat has gone dry. The dress fits like it was made for her, hugging every perfect curve. She’s petite and delicate, but her curves show off her Brazilian and Italian heritage—another thing I love about her. I’m itching to press her close to me, to draw my hands up her neck and bring her mouth to mine. This dress is making me crazy.

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