Page 7 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

“You know, the last time I watched a match in Ireland, I was twelve,” Joel says suddenly, looking up from his phone. “We were here for a family reunion, and my cousin tried to teach me how to do an Irish jig after we scored. I nearly broke a table in the process.”

I chuckle. Okay, that was kind of cute.

Joy catches up to me in the lobby, linking arms with a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, this weather is doing nothing for my hair. But this city? Obsessed.”

“I’m so excited to see more.” I grin.

Joel falls into conversation with the guys about football the second we hit the restaurant. Joy and I sit toward the edge of the table, and after about five minutes of football talk I can’t follow, she leans in.

“Okay,” she whispers. “On a scale of one to ‘he’s definitely my future husband,’ how are we feeling about Joel right now?”

I laugh, a little nervously. “Somewhere around… ‘he’s nice and kind of confusing.’”

Joy raises an eyebrow. “Still not giving you butterflies?”

“Nope. Maybe caterpillars. Very sleepy ones.”

She nudges me. “So why are we entertaining the idea of Prince Caterpillar?”

I glance over at Joel. Still mid-debate about the Premier League. “Because he’s different to the guys I dated before. And he makes me laugh, too. That’s always a big thing in my book. He’s witty. Like maybe sparks are a luxury, and this is the part where I act like a grown-up and choose a guy who cares about what I care about.”

Joy pauses, then smiles softly. “Okay, but remind me—aren’t you the girl who cried over rom-coms with your mom and dreamed of the kind of guy who’d flyacross the world to prove he loves you?”

“I also used to think glitter lip gloss was a good idea,” I mutter.

“And now?” she asks.

“I still own two,” I admit as I roll my eyes.

She grins. “Then maybe don’t throw away the whole spark thing just yet.”

I laugh again, and for a moment, the weird ache in my chest lifts.

I don’t really know what I’m waiting for with Joel. But it has to be more than this.

It’s January 17th. The day that did not exist in my mind calendar. And while I did forget my mom’s birthday, I at least remembered to call her before I officially lose my title as Daughter of the Year. Facepalm.

We’re wandering the streets of Dublin, and I’m loving seeing the cute spots. The beautiful stairways, the colorful doors.

But then we reach the Ha’penny Bridge, and my book-loving heart does a little leap.

“Okay, did you ever readHow to Fall in Love?” I ask Joy, tilting my head as we pause a short distance away from it.

She shrugs. “Yeah, I remember it. My favorite wasP.S. I Love You, but it was still pretty good.”

“Agreed. But THIS—” I gesture dramatically, “—is the bridge.”

Joy lifts an eyebrow. “This is it?”

I nod, staring at it with a mix of awe and… confusion.

“In my head it was this dramatic, towering thing. Something like Tower Bridge. But in real life? Kinda looks like you could just jump off and swim away.”

Joy sighs. “It’s like you read my mind. I wish we could visit someP.S. I Love Youspots too.”

“Same. Maybe next time we’ll have more time. But!” I shoot afinger into the air. “Temple Bar is up next. I heardLeap Yearmight’ve been filmed there?”

“Ooh! Fact check later. Enjoy potential film-location vibes now.” She links her arm through mine with a grin.

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