Chapter 28
28
Nataly
2 months later
It’s the end of August, and I’m finally back living in London! And in CANARY WHARF. It still feels surreal. Me? Living here? Every time I step off the bus and onto the plaza, surrounded by all the fast-walking, well-dressed businessmen and women, I have to resist the urge to straighten my posture and walk like I belong. But then I reach the escalator. The Escalator of Doom . And suddenly, I’m gripping the railing for dear life, very aware that one wrong step could send me plummeting into business-casual chaos.
Still, I love this place. It’s technically just outside Canary Wharf, in the Isle of Dogs, but tomayto-tomahto . I live in a house with three lovely women from church, right by the Thames. Unintentionally, I’ve continued my tradition of living by water, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Nathan and I had such a great summer, alternating weekends between London and Bournemouth. He surprised me with visits a couple of times, and every single one made me fall for him a little more. But I won’t lie, I’m glad to be back. I missed my life in London. I missed us in London. I love this city, this church, this rhythm of life that feels right. And I love that Nathan is right here in it with me.
And today, we’re making the most of it.
If I can even call it “today” yet. It’s 3:30 a.m. I’m wrapped up in my leather jacket, standing outside my house, waiting for the low rumble of Nathan’s motorbike to break the stillness of the early morning.
I hear it before I see it. That familiar growl in the distance, getting closer, until he pulls up, parking a little ways away so he doesn’t wake up the entire street. See? Thoughtful and hot. I already love him, but man, I love him.
I grab my pink helmet—yes, I bought a pink one, the only sensible choice for me, obviously —and stride toward him. He’s sitting on the bike and I swing my legs over and throw my arms around his waist, breathing him in.
“Hey, beautiful.” His voice is gravelly from sleep, sending a shiver down my spine.
I squeeze him tighter, my face against his back. It’s too early for this level of swoon, but here we are.
“Hey, babe.” I’m already anticipating that first good-morning kiss, squeezing him extra from behind, and he chuckles.
“Kisses later.”
I groan dramatically as I get both of my feet on the pegs. I love the feel of him like this. Steady, strong, mine.
“Ready?” he asks over his shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
And then we’re off.
London at this hour is otherworldly . The usual chaos is stripped away, leaving a city that feels like it belongs to just us . Streetlights glow softly, reflecting off empty roads. The wind rushes past, crisp and biting, but I don’t mind. Nathan’s warmth is right here in front of me.
By the time we reach Liverpool Street, my heart is thrumming . Not just from the ride, but from the moment . From the knowledge that this is exactly where I want to be—at 4 a.m., with him .
Duck & Waffle is one of those rare 24-hour restaurants in London, placed high in the sky around the corner from Liverpool Street. It’s classy, it’s beautiful, and it’s got a 360 view around London.
I found this blogger called The Londoner, and I love everything Rosie posts. One of the things she posted about was having a sunrise breakfast at Duck & Waffle at 4am. The thought of that thrilled me. To watch the sun rise from there? It must be magical. Hence, today. Getting up at the crack of dawn for something new, different, and exciting.
We climb off the bike, and I barely get my helmet off before Nathan is pulling me in. His hands frame my face, his lips brushing mine in that slow, teasing way that makes my knees weak.
“Good morning.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
I don’t even try to hold back my grin. “Took you long enough.”
He laces his fingers with mine, and we head inside.
The elevator ride is silent except for the occasional ping as we ascend. The anticipation builds.
“I can’t believe we’re here so early! It’s the perfect day for it!” I whisper-squeal.
He lets out a low chuckle. “I love how excited you get.”
And then, the doors open.
Duck & Waffle is breathtaking . Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the space, offering a 360-degree view of London. The city stretches out before us, bathed in the softest shades of blue and purple, the first hints of sunrise brushing the horizon.
I can’t help myself. I dig into my bag, pulling out my secondhand camera. The one I finally bought after saving up to replace my old one. This is why I wanted to come. To capture this moment, this light, this magic.
Nathan watches me as I adjust the settings, peering through the lens. I love getting these shots now so we can fully appreciate the sun rising.
I glance up. “What?”
He shakes his head, that lopsided grin I love tugging at his lips. “Just watching you be you.”
Wow. That gets me right in the chest.
We settle into our seats, the city waking up beneath us. The food is unreal. Eggs that are somehow fluffier than should be possible, waffles that taste like happiness itself. I pause mid-bite just to take it all in.
It’s magic. Pure, maple-syrupy magic.
“Nat, I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, that slow grin spreading across his face, fully aware it’s about to blow my mind.
“A surprise?” My eyes go wide. Immediate heart rate spike .
“Well, since your twenty-first birthday is a few days away, I thought I’d tell you what I’ve got planned for you.”
“Yes?” I practically bounce.
“I know you’ve always wanted to go?—”
“Wait. No. Don’t tell me it’s?—”
“To Disneyland Paris,” he finishes, grinning despite my squeal interrupting him.
“Eeeeeep! No way, seriously?” I squeal.
He laughs. “Yes, seriously. Remember my aunt and uncle in Paris?”
“Yes! Wait—so we’re actually going ?”
“We’re going,” he confirms, grinning wide.
“I’M SO EXCITED!”
I fling myself across the table and wrap him in a hug.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” I say, kissing him right on the mouth, because how could I not?
I’ve dreamed of going to Disneyland Paris for so long—especially for my twenty-first. And he listened. He remembered. He planned it.
I let out a dreamy sigh.
I. Can’t. Wait.