Page 68 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

“These mountains. C.S. Lewis based Narnia on these.”

“Oh, yeah? I’ve heard that before.”

“Yes! This is where my nerdy side really comes out. My dad got me into the old-school BBC version just before the Disney one dropped—I was maybe eleven? I watched the Disney version in awe, and I practically lived and breathed those books. I also went merch-crazy.”

I take a breath but continue to ramble. “I still have a necklace of Peter’s shield with an inscription of a quote about Aslan. I feel like Narnia shaped a lot of how I see life. In wonder, in magic. They were written as allegories by C.S. Lewis, and I especially loved the metaphor of Aslan being Jesus. He was kind, gentle, but also majestic and untamed—unpredictable. Every oneof the stories kept me on the edge of my seat! I still dream of living in Narnia,” I sigh as I finish talking.

Nathan just glances at me, smirking. There’s endearment in his eyes.

“What?” I ask, breathless from my own ramble.

He shakes his head, eyes back on the road. “Nothing. Just—” He flicks me a side glance, that melt-me-from-the-inside look. “I love watching you talk about things you love.”

Oh my heart. My stomach. I think it ran away at that last stop light. It’s fine, I’mfine.

I turn back toward the window, mostly because if I keep looking at him, I’ll actually combust.

This is so cool. The fact that I’m in a country C.S. Lewis walked, seeing places that inspired one of the most magical worlds ever written? Unreal.

“There are so many places here with C.S. Lewis ties,” I murmur. “The whole square in Belfast dedicated to him. AND—” I gasp. “I know there’s a castle, up on the north coast, that is said to have inspired Cair Paravel.”

Nathan hums. “Dunluce Castle, I’ll bet.”

He pulls into the parking lot and shifts into park before turning toward me.

“I’ll take you next time.”

Next time. My heart stumbles. My eyes flicker to his—searching, catching the barest hint of something in his expression. Something intentional.

I swallow, willing my voice to sound normal. “I’d like that.”

Nathan just grins, eyes glinting like he knows something I don’t.

We’re parked, and the sun has already set. But that won’t stop us. Nathan wants to show me Murlough Beach, and I want to see this place that holds pieces of his childhood. We walk down, the wooden walkway winding through rolling dunes and wild green heath. The scent of salt thickens in the air. I love sand dunes.

And when we finally reachthe shore, it takes my breath away.

The ocean stretches endlessly before us, the Mourne Mountains rising in the distance like a painting. The waves crash against the sand, a deep, rhythmic pulse that settles something inside me. It’s my favorite sound in the world—I fall asleep to it every night on my white noise machine. The cool wind tangles through my hair, and I inhale deeply, letting the sea and sky and Nathan’s presence wrap around me.

The sun has dipped below the horizon, casting everything in that soft, gentle twilight glow of civil twilight. Soon, night will take over.

Nathan takes my hand, his fingers curling around mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and tugs me toward one of the dunes. I follow, my heartbeat thudding, as he pulls me up beside him.

He sits down, pulls me between his legs, and wraps his arms around me. The warmth of him, the strength, the way he just fits around me—I melt into it. His hands run in slow, steady strokes up and down my arms, and I lean into his chest, my body completely at home against his.

Then, he dips his face close, his lips brushing my neck as he presses a soft kiss there.

A shiver rolls through me. Not from the cold but fromhim.

His voice is low, near my ear. “What did you think of today?”

I turn my face slightly, eyes meeting his. “I was nervous, of course. But... I think it went well?”

He smiles, gaze steady. “It went great.”

And then his expression shifts. A flicker of something deeper. Darker.

My breath catches in my throat.

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