Page 80 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

I swallow, forcing a light laugh. “I guess it could be nerve-wracking…” My voice trails off.

He doesn’t respond.

I glance back at the couple just as she claps her hands over her mouth, eyes shimmering with happy tears.

That should be a moment you never forget.

Doubt pricks at the edges of my heart. Does he really not want that?

I shake the thought away.God knows my heart. He knows my dreams.

It’s going to work out. It has to.

We finish skating, and it’s nearly time to meet my parents at Canary Wharf. But Nathan suggests one more stop—his friend Alex is in town for just a few more hours.

So, we head for coffee.

Everything is fine until my phone buzzes. I glance down.Mom.

I fumble to answer. “Hi, Mom!”

“Hi, sweetie! Where are you guys?”

I bite my lip. We’re supposed to be there in ten minutes.

“We’re about half an hour away,” I admit. “Nathan’s just catching up with a friend from home. Sorry we’re late!”

“Ohhh, don’t worry at all,filhinha! We’ll see you soon. We’ll grab a coffee while we wait.”

I breathe out a relieved sigh. No lecture. I fully expected one. My parents hate tardiness. Maybe because it’s Nathan’s birthday, they’re letting it slide. I thought it was adorable that Nathan wanted my parents to come up for his birthday. I would’ve thought he would’ve wanted to go out with our friends for the night, but a low key dinner and cake at my place? How sweet isthat?

Finally, we say goodbye to Alex, and I shoot my mom a text.

Me: We’ll see you soon, Mom! Just jumping on the tube now. 30 minutes.

Nathan and I step onto the escalator, descending into the underground.

I glance up at him. His jaw is set, his face a little pale.

I nudge him gently. “Are you okay?”

He hesitates. “Yeah, just feel a little queasy.”

I frown. “Maybe it was the hot dog you had earlier?”

“Yeah, maybe.” His hand finds mine, fingers lacing through. But his grip is a little tighter than usual.

I study him as the train approaches, the rush of wind whipping past us.

He’s quiet. Focused.

Weird. But I brush it off. He probably just needs some water. He’ll be fine.

Right?

We arrive at Canary Wharf, and to my relief, my parents don’t seem the least bit concerned about our lateness. My mom is all smiles, my dad is relaxed, and just like that, the tension in my shoulders disappears. The four of us hop on a bus toward my house, and I make a mental checklist of everything we need for dinner.

The tortillas. I almost forgot.

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