Chapter 17
17
Nathan
I meant it when I told her I was done pursuing her if she stayed with Joel. It wasn’t fair—to him, to her, or to me. And she got it. She made it clear she wasn’t locking this away anymore. She said she’s breaking up with him.
And yet, here I am.
Walking the streets of London, replaying every second of tonight like my mind is stuck on a scratched record.
London buzzes around me. Car horns blare, voices spill from open bar doors, bikes zip past with the rhythmic whir of bicycle wheels as delivery drivers zip past, balancing bags of takeout. The city lights are overhead lighting up London, the scent of fried food and exhaust mixing in the air. But it all fades into the background.
Because all I can hear is her .
Her voice, soft and uncertain. Her laugh, bright like a fire in the cold. Her confession, hanging between us like an unfinished sentence.
I should be heading back to the church crew. Back to normal. Back to pretending I’m not entirely wrapped up in a girl who technically still belongs to someone else. But instead, I pull out my phone. My fingers hover over the screen for a second longer than they should before I type out the message and press send.
Nathan: Let me know when you get home okay.
“You good, man?” Eddie asks, catching up to me near the corner of where everyone is hanging out.
I shove my phone in my pocket. “Yeah. I’m good. Just sending a message.”
He eyes me. “To Nataly?”
I smirk. “You just always know, don’t you?”
“It wasn’t hard to see how much you liked her back at Tinseltown.”
“Yeah, man. She’s something else.”
“So what’s the story?”
I sigh. “Still figuring that out. One thing’s for sure though—I want to find out.”
He nods once, like that’s all he needed to hear. “Alright then. Don’t wait too long, man.”
I know I said I wasn’t going to talk to her anymore. I meant it when I said it. But if she’s serious—if she’s actually ending things—then I need her to know I’m still here. That I’m not stopping my pursuit.
I’ll give her time. I have to. But waiting? Yeah. That’s never been my strong suit. While the thought of that makes my chest ache, I know it’s necessary right now.
I rub a hand over the back of my neck, my pulse still too quick, my mind still too loud.
There’s something about Nataly.
Beyond the fact that she’s been avoiding confrontation like it’s her full-time job, everything else about her is… uncomplicated. She’s the kind of person who finds joy in the smallest things: laughing at the most ridiculous moments, looking for something good in every situation.
As we’re settling in with our friends, I quickly pull my phone back up to read one of our most recent conversations that had me laughing.
Nataly: Nathan. Emergency.
Nathan: What happened? Are you okay?
Nataly: No. I just tripped over air on a sidewalk. And I fell.
Nathan: Oh no
Nataly: It gets worse. I didn’t just fall. I fell into the person in front of me.
Nataly: Full on rammed like a bull.
Nathan: I can imagine this happening
Nataly: And then it was a little like a domino effect. She stumbled onto her friend and I was trying to hold us all up and we just all ended up on the floor like pretzels.
Nathan: this is great
Nataly: I helped us all up, they had terrible looks on their faces, I apologized profusely and then ran off. I don’t know if I’ll ever live that one down. It might just follow me into my dreams years from now and I’ll feel horrified at my clumsiness all over again.
Nathan: Well, you make life more fun that way. Never know what you’ll do next
I love how fun she makes life.
She’s easy. Light. Effortless. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.
And tonight, when I saw her—when she looked up at me with those wide eyes, her dark hair framing her face like a portrait—I felt it all over again. The pull. The sharp, aching need to be closer to her, to know exactly what she’s thinking when she looks at me like that.
I groaned inwardly the second I saw her outside church today. Because she looked… different. Her hair was darker than before, the kind of deep, chocolate brown that catches the light in the most maddening way. And it suited her—too well even. So well that all I wanted was to slide my fingers through it, tilt her chin up, and ruin her lipstick with a kiss she wouldn’t forget.
I clench my jaw.
I need this trip to Barcelona. I need space. I need to make sure I don’t do that just yet. I don’t want to move too fast too soon with her. I’ll take it slow, even if every vein in my body stands at attention at the sight of her. Even if I don’t want to take it slow—I want to change her last name and I want our children to have that smile and easygoing nature she’s got. She’s the opposite of everything I grew up with. Storms and shadows aren’t her M.O. She’s pure sunshine to my dark, gloomy days.
Because if I don’t take it slow, I might just lose this self-control I’m so proud of. I’ve spent my whole life knowing what I want and going after it. I don’t hesitate. I don’t sit on the sidelines. But this time? I have to. I have to let her figure this out, end things properly, make her own choice.
Even if every muscle in my body is tense with the effort of not going after what I already know is mine.
Because she is.
She just doesn’t fully know it yet.
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out, and my stomach tightens at the name on the screen.
Nataly: I will do! I’m just hopping onto the DLR now. Thanks again for helping me find my wallet !
I stare at the message for a second longer than necessary.
And then I smile.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she better get used to my name lighting up her screen.
Because I’m not going anywhere.