Page 116 of The Unlikely Heir
“Good, thank you. I’ve got a part in Barry Hatfield’s upcoming play.”
And so I chat with Riccardo about his role long enough to satisfy any lurking media that there’s no enduring grudge between me and my ex-husband, but not long enough to start rumors of a throuple—I know only too well how the British press works.
“Anyway, I must find my table before the show begins. Nice to see you both.” I aim that last bit at Garett, who looks back at me in a way to imply thatnicewouldn’t be his go-to word for any encounter with me.
I can’t help probing my feelings as I make my dignified retreat.
For so long, I’ve regretted the breakdown of my marriage. Despite the fractious nature of our relationship, I’ve missed Garett’s companionship and the security that comes with knowing someone is always there for you.
But if Garett and I hadn’t broken up, I wouldn’t have Callum in my life now. And despite all the complications I know lie ahead of us, the thought of never having known Callum makes my soul shudder. I’d never have discovered how effortless being with the right person is, how it can provide happiness at a deeper level than I’ve ever experienced before.
I head to the tables, looking for my name in the place settings.
Suddenly, I’m aware Callum is hovering by my side.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs.
I look up at him in surprise. “I’m fine.”
His forehead creases. “That’s your ex-husband, isn’t it? What did he say to you? You didn’t look very happy.”
I wasn’t very happy. But Callum knowing me so well he could see past my fake act with Garett and Riccardo, him caring enough to find me and check I’m okay, makes me extremely happy.
“Yes, that’s my ex-husband and the bloke he cheated on me with. Encounters with them never leave me feeling particularly chuffed.”
Callum’s frown deepens into a scowl. He shoots a glance at where Garett and Riccardo are taking their seats. “Just remember, I’m immune to prosecution when I become king,” he says in a low voice. “I’m willing to hear suggestions about who you want to add to my hit list.”
A smile breaks out on my face before I can help myself.
“It’s always good to know I’ve got that up my sleeve,” I say.
“Your Royal Highness, the show is about to start.” One of the charity’s minders is suddenly by Callum’s side.
“I better get to my seat,” he says.
I nod. I try to stop my eyes from trailing after him as I find my own seat and the comedy show begins.
The emcee is Ralph Jacobson, a well-known British comedian. He begins with a joke-filled monologue.
“We’ve got some important dignitaries in the audience today.” He waits until the applause dies down before he continues. “I was smoking a joint with Prince Callum the other day, and I finally understand why people call him ‘Your Royal Highness.’”
The groan that goes around the room is almost deafening.
I flick a glance at Callum, who is grinning. To be fair, based on the banter we exchange on a regular basis, I’m not sure either of us would be able to identify a good joke if we heard one.
As if Callum can hear my thoughts, he meets my gaze and scrunches his nose slightly.
Bloody hell, I am so far gone for this man that even him scrunching his nose at me causes my heart to pound.
I’m so caught up in admiring Callum that I startle when I hear my name come from the emcee’s lips. Apparently, it’s my turn to be the target of a joke.
“Oliver Hartwell, the prime minister, is here as well.” There are a lot of cheers and a few boos. He pauses, and once they’ve faded, he continues, “I’ve heard rumors that Oliver’s cabinet meetings are like episodes of Downton Abbey—lots of drama, gossip, and people wondering what’s for dinner.”
I give a wry chuckle as the audience laughs. Callum shoots me a smile.
I settle back to enjoy the show, but my eyes continue darting to Callum because seeing his enjoyment of the show becomes my enjoyment. He laughs throughout, and the space inside me for pure happiness, the one I never knew existed, grows larger and larger.
The last act of the night is Mirthful Merlin, a comedy magician.
