Page 129 of The Unlikely Heir
I’d made the news because I’d eaten dinner with an attractive woman. Oliver had made the news because he’d had to make life-or-death decisions to save the citizens of this country.
“Everything is fine now.” Oliver heaves a deep breath. But he still looks stressed. Panic spreads through my body.
“What’s wrong?”
“Toby knows about us.”
The thump-thump of my heart turns into a rapid staccato. “How did he find out?”
“He guessed. There was a discussion about the security of your investiture.” Oliver runs his hands through his hair. “My reaction to the threats against you was pretty telling.”
“Threats against me?” I croak.
Frown lines deepen Oliver’s face. “Hasn’t anyone discussed the latest intelligence with you?”
“Um…not really. Is it the Welsh nationalists?”
“Probably. But don’t worry. The Metropolitan Police are doing everything to keep you safe. All the guests will have to go through extra security screenings.”
I gulp. It’s something I don’t like to dwell on, the ever-present threat to my safety that comes with this role.
People who hate me just for what I am, what I represent.
I veer back to another uncomfortable topic.
“So, what did Toby say when he found out about us?”
Oliver rubs his forehead. “What do you think he said?” His voice is weary.
Fear surges inside me at how tired Oliver sounds. And not just tired from the day he’s had.
“I’m guessing he didn’t break out the champagne and party poppers,” I say.
Oliver releases another deep breath. “Not exactly.”
There’s silence between us, but it’s full of all the things we don’t talk about.
“I better get some sleep,” Oliver says finally. “It’ll be another big day tomorrow. I’m sure at Prime Minister’s Questions, I’ll have to justify to the Conservatives every decision I made in the heat of the moment.”
“There’s no one I trust to run the country more than you, Oliver,” I say softly.
I get the feeling he needs to hear those words from me now.
Oliver stares at me through the screen.
“I love you.” And there’s something almost desperate in the way he says the words. Like he suspects there’s a time limit on saying them, that he won’t be saying them much longer. My mouth feels dry at the thought. I try to push that idea away and concentrate on the here and now.
“Right back at you,” I say.
A small smile flickers on Oliver’s face. But it disappears too quickly.
“Goodnight.”
And then he’s gone.
Leaving me only with a blank screen and an empty space on the pillow next to me.
* * *
