Page 34 of The Unlikely Heir
As I stand in my walk-in wardrobe, loosening my tie, I catch a glimpse of my reflection.
Callum’s words from earlier, of the randomness of life that has led him to be the heir to the British throne, suddenly slide into my mind.
I’ve always believed I made my own way in the world, resenting people who have had it easy due to the circumstances they were born into.
But how much of my success is due to my own genetic inheritance? It seems ridiculous to compare inheriting the crown to inheriting good looks, but the randomness is similar.
If I’d just looked like an average guy, would I have been as appealing to the British public? A gay kid with no background or social connections. I’ve always credited my success to my intelligence and hard work, but have I also been riding on the coattails of my own genetic luck?
I hang up my tie and unbutton my shirt, stepping out of my trousers. My hand immediately drifts up to the dog tags that hang on a chain around my neck. They were a gift from my grandad, something given to him by his own father, that I wear against my skin every day.
Another important reminder of where I come from.
I’m just walking back into my bedroom when my phone beeps.
My heart starts to race when I see it’s from an unfamiliar number.
Hey, this is Callum.
Another message arrives seconds later.
The Prince of Wales, in case you’re not sure of what Callum that is.
I save his number into my contacts, then quickly type my reply.
You might be overestimating how many Callums message me.
His reply pings back almost instantly.
If you have a lack of Callums in your life, then that’s just sad.
I smile.
I’ve been told a lot of aspects of my life are sad, but never that.
And then, because it’s a theme from our conversation tonight, I do a quick Google search and find a popular Reddit forum entitledWays Oliver Hartwell’s Life is Beyond Sad, and I send Callum the link.
It’s only after I’ve sent it that I scan down the list and read the first few points.
His hair looks like a cross between a dead squirrel and a mole suffering from mange.
His husband dumped him for a twenty-two-year-old Italian model.
His own dad never wanted to know him.
His mother got to know him and then ditched him.
Ouch. No matter how thick a skin you think you have, seeing some of this stuff written out causes me to flinch.
My phone beeps with a message from Callum.
You think that’s bad? Check out this new TikTok account.
Attached is a link to an account calledGoldenRetrieverorCallumPrescott?Someone has been creative with matching up different facial expressions of golden retrievers with photos taken of Callum.
Golden retrievers are great dogs. You should take it as a compliment. One of the opposition MPs referred to me as a pitbull the other day, which is not as flattering.
I’d prefer not to have my facial expressions matched to any canine.
