Page 156 of The Unlikely Heir
“I’m replaceable too.”
“No, you’re not, Callum. You bring something extra no one else will ever be able to replicate. You are the light for so many people. Including me.”
Callum just stares at me, his eyes shimmering.
I take a deep breath before continuing. “It’s impossible for me to be in this world and not love you. I’ve spent so long fighting that reality. But it turns out my love for you trumps everything else.”
Callum swipes at the corner of his eyes. “Oliver, I can’t let you do this,” he says.
“Hey, don’t argue against the revelations a man has when he almost dies.”
Callum’s face pinches for a second. Then he meets my eyes. Something wordless, deep, and heavy passes between us as our gazes lock together. An acknowledgment of what we are to each other, a soul-level connection which will enable me to sacrifice for him without feeling like I’m sacrificing anything at all.
“Okay,” he says. Weirdly, a lightness starts to grow inside me. The decision is made. This man is my future.
“I’ll need to formally tender my resignation to the queen,” I say.
Callum’s forehead creases. “You don’t want to wait until the referendum? To make sure I’m still the Prince of Wales? Otherwise, you might be giving up your job for nothing.”
“No, this way, I can campaign with you. I’m an excellent campaigner.”
The smile on Callum’s face is more beautiful than the most incredible sunrise. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that I’m determined will never fade.
“Oh god, is the monarchy prepared for Oliver Hartwell?” he asks.
“I guess we’re about to find out.”
Epilogue
Callum
One Year Later
Oliver and I stand together in one of the most sacred sites in England: Westminster Abbey.
“Did you know Westminster Abbey is the resting place for more than thirty-three hundred people, including thirty kings and queens and also famous scientists such as Sir Isaac Newton and Charles Darwin,” I say to Oliver because having someone to share random knowledge with, who is actually interested in everything I say, is a novelty I don’t think I’ll ever stop marveling over.
Oliver offers me a grin. “Nothing like a few ghosts watching us get hitched.”
Because that’s why we’re at Westminster Abbey. To plan our wedding.
“And Westminster belongs to the sovereign, not the Church of England. So it’s not really an Abbey. It is officially in the category of ‘Royal Peculiar,’” I continue.
“Maybe ‘Royal Peculiar’ should be my new nickname for you,” Oliver suggests.
I laugh, and the soft sound of it echoes off the stone walls.
“I was kind of still gunning for turnip,” I say, and it’s Oliver’s turn to laugh.
It’s actually a good thing Westminster Abbey belongs to the sovereign rather than the Church of England because although the Church of England will now perform blessings for same-sex couples in their churches, they won’t conduct marriages.
There’s still a long way to go to achieve equality for all people regardless of their sexual orientation and gender, both here and in the Commonwealth. It’s definitely a cause I’m prepared to devote my life to.
Clive bustles over to us then, with Raymond by his side, along with the royal wedding planner, Janet.
“So, I’m thinking that Prince Callum should be the one at the altar, and Mr. Hartwell can walk down the aisle,” Clive says.
“You think that’s a better alternative than them both walking down the aisle?” Raymond asks.
