Chapter 23
23
Nataly
It’s been 2 weeks. 2 weeks since I last saw Nathan and he left for Barcelona. Two weeks since I stood in that tube station and have had his touch lingering.
But the past two weeks have been good —necessary. I went down to Bournemouth to visit my parents and Chantelle. It gave me time to breathe, to clear my head, to sit with all the feelings I didn’t know how to name.
As the train hummed beneath me, I stared out at the rolling fields and let my thoughts settle. There’s still guilt about the breakup with Joel. The way it ended. The way he’s still texting me, still trying to win me back. There was even a day, right before I left for Bournemouth, when I came home to find a giant box of flowers on my doorstep. A card tucked inside, asking if he could take me to dinner.
I had been mid-conversation with Nathan on the phone when I found them. I think I almost heard a growl on the other end. Joel never did this kind of thing before. Not during our relationship. Not really. So why now?
Why pursue me now, when I’ve already stepped away?
Joel and I were never right for each other. I was caught up in making it work. Why? Well, that’s a valid question. From the outside, it would be so easy to see and say, “you’re wrong for each other,” but reality and our thoughts don’t quite follow a linear pattern all the time. It was like trying to force two puzzle pieces together from entirely different sets and saying, “See? Close enough.” It wasn’t close enough. Not for me. Not for the kind of love I know God has for me.
And Joel’s not the villain. I just want him to find someone he genuinely can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with.
And I know, deep down, that’s not me.
But Nathan has been clogging up all my headspace. He’s been pursuing me. Like I’m the only girl out there. Not playing games. Not leaving me wondering. Not treating me like an afterthought.
Just showing up.
I remember seeing a quote on Tumblr once: “Men, by nature, are hunters. If he wants you to be his, he’ll make it known.”
And that’s the thing about Nathan. He isn’t hunting me. He’s choosing me.
Over and over again.
I asked him point blank if he liked me, and he said, “Yes.” Never have I had a man be so upfront with me.
I took the train ride to think through all of this. As I pulled up to Bournemouth and got out of the train, I saw Chantelle. She was picking me up from the station, and I barely waited for the car to stop before launching myself into her arms. We really don’t see each other enough but we always just pick up right where we left off. Some friends are just like that. You just click. Then you’re friends for life.
“Oh, sweet friend, it is SO good to see you!” I squealed, squeezing her tight .
She pulled back, mock-serious. “Well, I’ve been compiling a list of dad jokes while you were gone, so prepare yourself.”
I threw my head back and laughed. I love her humor. “I’m ready. Hit me with your best one.”
She cleared her throat dramatically. “Did you hear about the cheese factory that exploded?”
I tilted my head. “No?”
“All that was left was de-brie. ”
I wheezed. “I love that so much!”
We slid into her car, still laughing, and she took me to a pub near my parents’ place—somewhere warm, dimly lit, and buzzing with conversation. The beige brick inside makes it feel so cozy. Really, it smells like old wood and fresh bread.
We ordered dessert as that’s what we really came for, and as soon as we sat down, she narrowed her eyes at me.
“Okay,” she said, folding her arms. “Who are you texting?”
I glanced down at my phone, realizing my grin was probably so obvious.
I rolled my eyes. “You know who.”
She smirked. “Nathan?”
I shrugged, taking a sip of my water. “Maybe.”
Her brows lifted. “And what’s he saying?”
I glanced at my screen, where his last text read:
At the beach. You’d love it. Wish you were here.
A flutter kicked up in my stomach. “Just talking about Barcelona,” I said lightly, locking my phone.
Chantelle leaned forward. “Okay, but what’s happening with Nathan? Because let’s be real, you and Joel haven’t been broken up for that long…”
And there it is. The conversation I knew was coming.
I took a deep breath. “Nothing’s happened yet,” I admitted. “But I really like him. Joel and I were never right for each other.”
She nodded slowly but didn’t let me off that easily. “I know you were never crazy about Joel, but it’s just been a few weeks. Are you sure you’re not just hopping from one relationship to the next?”
I paused, choosing my words.
“Honestly, Chants… I get why it could look that way. But I’ve been wrestling with all this for months. Joel and I were never in love. And Nathan… I don’t know. It feels different. Like maybe he could even be the one.”
Her expression softened. “That’s all I needed to hear. I just wanted to hear it from you, not through a trail of emoji hearts and half-finished stories.” She paused, tilting her head. “Now. Back to Nathan.”
I groaned, laughing. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” She leaned in dramatically. “I fully support this man, but he needs to know that if he breaks your heart, he will answer to me.”
I snorted. “You? The least intimidating person I know?”
She lifted her chin. “I will threaten him with dad jokes for all eternity.”
The rest of the trip was everything I needed. Lazy mornings with my mom while dad worked, wandering through town, watching the sea outside the window as the waves rolled in and out. A romantic comedy every night.
My mom also knew everything that happened from day one. I can’t hide anything from that woman. She just knows .
She called me on the night that I broke up with Joel.
“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”
“Hi, Mom. What’s up?” I said in a neutral tone.
She clearly heard something in my voice. “What’s the matter?”
I sighed. “It’s like you have binoculars and can see through the phone or something. You just know whenever something’s wrong, don’t you?”
I could hear the grin in her voice. “Of course I do. I’m your mom. I’ve got eyes in the back of my head.”
“I just broke up with Joel. ”
A pause. “And? How did it go?”
“It went okay…” I trailed. “I think he wasn’t ready for me to break up with him, though.”
“I can imagine. Ever since he came down here, asking for your hand and all. We gave him permission, but I knew you weren’t all-in after our conversation.”
“I'm not even sure why he asked for it in the first place. It felt like a 180. Maybe he thought it was the natural progression of the relationship?”
“Maybe, sweetheart. But it’s hard not to love you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, you’re supposed to say that. You’re my mother!”
“ Filhinha , you know me well enough to know that no bias will keep me from telling you the truth. And that is simply the truth.”
“That’s true. You’ve literally shown me babies and said, ‘Poor kid—maybe they’ll be good-looking later.’ That’s how I know you’re honest,” I laughed.
“Those poor ugly babies. I hope they’re like caterpillars and grow into beautiful butterflies,” she said in all seriousness.
I laughed. I find her absolutely hilarious. She tells everyone like it is, yet her warmth and charm radiate, making her the most lovable person in the room. She’s always showered with gifts and love from her teams every time she changes jobs.
It was so good to keep her in the loop about everything that’s happening, and to know she supported me.
But now?
Now, I’m back in London. And I’m on the tube to see Nathan.
My heart thrums against my ribs, and the nerves kick up a notch.
We haven’t kissed yet. Haven’t defined anything. It’s only been a few weeks since Joel and I ended. And Nathan… he’s been patient. He’s given me space, pursued me without pressure.
But tonight? Tonight feels different.
I check my phone again. His last text from earlier still sits there, teasing me.
Nathan: Can’t wait to see you. I’ve got something to show you when you get here.
I take a deep breath.
Stay calm. Play it cool.
Which is easier said than done when I know that in just a few minutes, I’m going to see Nathan’s face again.
And if I wasn’t already falling for him before? I know I don’t stand a chance now.
He invited me over for dinner. He lives with a housemate, and he wanted to cook for me. If that’s not swoon-worthy, I don’t know what is.
I’ve just gotten off the tube at West Kensington and I’m following the directions to his house. My heart pumps in rhythm with the quick pace of my steps, a steady drumbeat that only seems to pick up speed the closer I get. It’s like my pulse has its own anthem, and I’m moving to its rhythm.
I finally find my way and knock on the door. Nathan opens it immediately, and as a small gust of wind whips past me, it also knocks the breath out of my lungs as I see him. My heart is officially in my mouth. His eyes catch mine, warm and intent, and suddenly, my stomach is performing a full Olympic floor routine. Gold medal-worthy.
“Come on in.” His voice is low, inviting, and there’s the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got a little surprise for you.”
“Ooo a surprise?!” I grin, my pulse skipping ahead. If I had one of those fancy smartwatches, I’d probably set a new personal heart rate record.
He takes me through the hallway and into the living room, where the kitchen and dining room combine. The smell of pasta cooking makes it feel warm and cozy. It’s a small London flat, but a good size for two. It’s got high windows that let a lot of light into the living space, and it’s all white. I love how the high ceilings make a big difference to that. I’ll have to tuck that mental note away for later as I notice what he’s doing.
Nathan picks up a small wrapped box from the coffee table and settles onto the sofa, gesturing for me to sit next to him.
“I got you something from Barcelona. It’s nothing big,” he says, slinging his arm over the back of the couch, just inches from my shoulder. “It just reminded me of you.”
Nothing big? My heart squeezes. The fact that he thought about me while he was in Barcelona—that I was on his mind enough to bring something back—feels anything but small.
I start to unwrap it, attempting to do so gracefully. Spoiler alert: I fail. If there were a contest for the worst gift un-wrapper, I’d take home the gold.
“Wow,” he says, watching me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone unwrap a gift like that before,” he says, laughing as he continues to watch me.
“Hey! I pride myself on being the worst gift un-wrapper, thank you very much.” I laugh, shaking my head as I finally manage to get inside.
Inside the box is a small dolphin, covered in a mosaic of tiny, colorful tiles.
I gasp. “It’s beautiful.” My fingers run over the smooth surface, taking in every detail. “I love it. Thank you.” And I do love it. Because he remembered. From one of our conversations—some offhand comment about how much I love dolphins. He was listening. He pays attention to the little things.
Before I can think twice, I throw my arms around his neck.
And that’s when everything changes. The air shifts. I lower my hands, my cheek now resting against his shoulder, and suddenly, every nerve in my body is waiting. Hoping .
Is he going to tilt my head up and kiss me? Is this going to be the moment?
My veins feel like they’re going to combust. My breath is trapped somewhere in my chest, held hostage by anticipation. His hands find my shoulders, warm and steady, but he hesitates.
And then…
He sighs. Almost inaudibly. Like I wasn’t supposed to hear it.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he says.
I deflate, my heart dropping a fraction. Why hasn’t he kissed me yet? I was giving him all the signs. I even angled my face just slightly, just enough that if he wanted to grab me and kiss me senseless, I wouldn’t have stopped him.
But alas, it is not this moment. Inward sigh.
“It’s nothing fancy,” he continues, moving toward the kitchen. “My gran used to make pasta for me, so I thought I’d cook something similar. Had to add bacon and extra cheese, obviously.” His lips curve into a mischievous smile.
My heart does an entirely new set of flips.
There are plenty of girls who have no problem making the first move. And right now, I could be one of them.
But I don’t want to be. I want him to do it.
“It sounds delicious,” I reply, glancing—very deliberately—at his lips before flicking my gaze back to his.
His eyes darken, just for a second. A flicker. Barely there. But I see it.
We eat dinner, and he tells me about his trip to Barcelona. The beach, the food, the places they explored. I love how he talks about it, how he doesn’t just stay in one place but experiences things.
“What was your favorite part about Barcelona?” I ask.
“It’s pretty cool that it’s a city right on the beach, I guess. The architecture is nice. It’s also always good fun to go with people.”
“Something you should know, though,” he says, mid-conversation, “I can’t spend an entire day at the beach. I need to do something. I’ll enjoy it for a few hours, but then we’d have to go out and explore.”
He said we .
Pipe down, mind . Chill.
“Oh really?” I manage, keeping my tone casual. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a ‘just-by-the-beach’ holiday, so I’ll probably have to agree with you on that one.”
“Did you have a nice time in Bournemouth?” He asks.
“Yeah, it was exactly what I needed. Time with Chants, mom hugs, and just… space to think.”
He nods. “I’m sure. I’d love to see Bournemouth some time.”
“I’d love to show you around,” I say, my voice low and trying to be as casual as possible.
Inwardly I’m giggling and kicking my feet.
After we finish, he takes my plate and rinses it. Before I can even register what’s happening, he reaches for my hand and pulls me up from the table.
My breath stutters. I look up at him.
He’s close. So, so close.
His hand lingers in mine, and I feel every ridge of his fingers against my skin. His jaw tightens. His other hand flexes at his side. There’s fire in his eyes, but behind it—hesitation.
Why is he holding back?
We both stand just like that for a few seconds, for what feels like an extremely long time.
He wants to kiss me. I know he does. It’s in the way his gaze keeps dropping to my lips, the way his grip tightens ever so slightly around my fingers. Our gazes lock for another second.
I don’t know what’s stopping him. But I know one thing—I can’t wait any longer. I may not be the one who wants to make the first move, but I’m willing to make myself available for him to make the first move. So, I gather my courage (and really, my poor veins can’t take it any longer and want to combust), and I tilt my chin up towards him. My pulse pounds in my ears. If he wants to kiss me, he’s going to have to do it now.
And it’s all the invitation he needs.
The dam breaks.
His lips crash into mine and his hands find my waist, pulling me in. It’s all-consuming. It’s like he had fireworks pent-up inside him, and they’re all over the sky now. Sizzling heat. His mouth is hot against mine, taking everything I’m giving and giving just as much. It’s like he’s had the same wildfire burning inside him, waiting—waiting—until he just couldn’t hold back anymore.
His hand slides up, fingertips grazing my jaw as he angles my head for better access. I wrap both arms around his neck, pressing in, drinking him in. He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth, softly nipping at it. My legs feel so much like jelly, wanting to cave in underneath me. But he’s wrapping me in his arms and holding me right up. I don’t know how long we’re there for. Minutes, hours, and not long enough.
And then?—
He slows. Begins to pull away.
Nope. Not happening.
I tug him back, and he chuckles against my lips—a deep, breathless sound that sends another wave of heat rushing through me. This time, the kiss is slower. Softer. Like we’re both memorizing every second. He begins to pull away and this time I let him. His lips trail down my jaw, his breath warm against my skin. “I was trying to be patient,” he murmurs, voice low and rough.
And that’s when it clicks. He wasn’t hesitating because he didn’t want to kiss me. He was hesitating because he was trying to honor me. Trying to take things slow. Thinking about me the entire time.
Oh. Oh.
I think I just melted even more. I’m a Nataly puddle right here. Thankfully he still has his hands on my waist and I haven’t completely morphed into the floor yet.
“Well,” I whisper, eyes still closed as he presses one last kiss to my jaw, “I don’t think I could’ve lasted much longer. ”
His lips find mine one more time, a soft, lingering kiss before he pulls back.
I sigh. Happily. I’m dizzy from that mind-blowing kiss. Like I’m in a hazy dream right now.
He calls me over to the couch, his voice low and easy, so we can sit and talk. It stays light late in London this time of year, which means we have time. Time for a movie, time to sit close, and time to feel this electricity between us. I’ll take any and every excuse I can get to get close to him and snuggle up.
I settle next to him, and our arms brush, just barely. It’s not enough. I lean in just a little more, and he doesn’t move away. Good .
We talk about nothing and everything, and I love chatting with him. Then we land on TV.
“I don’t really watch much,” he says with a shrug, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
I gasp, clutching my chest like he’s just personally offended me. “What? But you’re missing out on so many good stories. Movies and shows can make you feel something—they change how people think. That’s why I love them.”
“Yeah, I love movies,” he allows, his smirk deepening. “But I don’t want to spend all of my nights watching mind-numbing TV.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” I concede. “Growing up, I didn’t have much of a life outside of playing around in the pool. So my world basically revolved around the Disney Channel.” I laugh, shaking my head. “And books. Lots and lots of books. Especially Mary-Kate and Ashley themed books.”
“I’d give it a shot if I found the right one.” Nathan says as he shifts, just slightly, and suddenly, his arm is resting along the couch behind me. His fingers brush against my hair—just barely—but it’s enough to send a ripple of awareness down my spine.
I should focus. I should keep talking.
“Okay, give me 20 minutes and I’ll bet you, you will LOVE Suits . If you don't like it, we can turn it off,” I say with my hands up and palms out, ready to surrender to him not loving Suits. Although it’ll be so hard for him to not love Suits. That first episode was one of the greatest first episodes there has ever been in the history of tv, in my opinion.
He laughs. “Alright. You’ve got 20 minutes to convince me.”
I pull up the show, ready to bask in my inevitable victory. “If you don’t love this, we can turn it off. But I know you’re going to love it.”
The episode starts, and for a while, we just watch. But my mind keeps drifting. To his arm behind me. To the heat of his body, so close. To the way our legs are just barely touching—but not enough.
And also what he said.
I definitely want a life that is more adventurous. Or at least, maybe, not so much TV in my life. Growing up, my life was definitely a lot of the Disney Channel. And I loved it. It also was a lot of being in the pool. That was my favorite childhood memory. My mom taking me to the pool in the summers. In the afternoons or evenings sometimes after school. She always paid so much attention to me, too, whenever I was ready to show her all of my tricks.
But besides that, I was pretty sheltered. And also, my parents weren’t really outdoorsy. I don’t blame them, we each have different interests in life. So I grew up going to the mall a lot. It was great. I loved getting my sugar cookies from Haagen-Dazs. Walking into Abercrombie Kids and trying to find something on the sale rack. I also read a lot, and I think reading is so good for the mind and the soul. But, I'm also ready to have a few more adventures. Branch out a little.
I sneak a glance at him. His jaw is sharp in the glow of the screen, his brow slightly furrowed as he watches the story unfold. Good, he’s into it.
And then his eyes flick to me, and he catches me looking.
I start to look away, but before I can, he smirks and pulls me closer. Just like that. No hesitation. No question .
My pulse hammers, but I settle against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His fingers trace slow, lazy circles on my shoulder, and my thoughts? Completely gone .
Could I have adventures with this man? Could this be something that isn’t just for now, but forever? Am I already thinking about whether he’s potential husband material?
…Yes. Yes, I am.
We’re getting to the scene: Mike stepping into the interview with Harvey, where Harvey finds out he’s not actually a lawyer but knows the bar like the back of his hand. The witty banter, the flawless execution of it all.
I pause the episode dramatically.
Nathan groans. “Why are you stopping it?”
I smirk. “So, should we turn it off?”
His eyes flick to mine, and there’s something undeniably playful in them. “No. Give me the remote.”
“Nope, maybe I’ll let you wait it out a bit since you teased my love of TV,” I reply, tilting my chin up teasingly, holding back the remote.
“Give me the remote, Nataly,” he says as he grins and moves to take it from me.
I laugh as he snatches it from me. Hook, line, and sinker.
By the time the episode ends, I have to leave, and I don’t want to. Neither does he.
We walk to the tube, and the moment we stop outside the station, a hush settles between us. This is the part where I should say goodbye.
But my body doesn’t want to move. And neither does his.
We linger.
Then, finally, he reaches for me, and I melt into his arms. His embrace is solid, warm, like it’s exactly where I’m meant to be. And when he presses a kiss to my lips—just a quick one, nothing too much for public—I can’t help the way my stomach flips .
“Text me when you’re home safe,” he says, his voice quieter now, more intent.
I nod. “I will.” Then, grinning, I add, “But don’t watch any more Suits without me.”
His lips curve. “No promises.”
I groan, swatting at him as I walk away.
I immediately pick up my phone to text Chantelle. I NEED to tell someone about this kiss. I can't stop thinking about it.
Me: Chants. I may or may not have just kissed Nathan.
Chants: !!!
Chants: This is not a text convo.
My phone buzzes. I laugh and pick up.
"Hey girl!" I say.
"SPILL."
I grin. "Okay, so I was having dinner at his house, and then he pulled me up off the table and he kissed me. But it wasn't just any old kiss. This was a ‘my-knees-are-weak-someone-make-sure-I-don’t-turn-into-a-pile-of-warm-cookie-dough’ kind of kiss.”
"OOOOO! The best kind of kiss. I remember my first one with Mark. I think the fireworks were so loud the dog next door started therapy.” (Mark is her fiancé—recently engaged, sickeningly in love, and exactly what Chantelle deserves.)
I dissolve into laughter.
"So what does it mean?" she continues.
"I don't know yet. But I'm pretty sure it means we're seeing each other now? I know he's trying to take it slow," I say.
“Take it slow? Pfft. That man just rewrote your brain chemistry with a single kiss.”
I giggle. “You’re not wrong.”
She softens. “Okay. For real? I’m happy for you. This all feels fast, but fast isn’t always wrong. Just make sure it’s right.”
My heart swells. “I will.”
“And I want to know every detail! Keep me in the loop!”
"I will," I laugh. "I'll text you. "
But before I even step onto the train, my phone buzzes.
Nathan: I’ve loved tonight. I can’t wait to see you again.
I smile.
Yeah. Me too.