Page 135 of The Unlikely Pair
I’m in a daze.
After being medically cleared, having a shower, seeing Harry briefly then changing into clean clothes, I’m ushered into a debriefing with a team from MI5 and MI6, who treat me with suspicion, like Harry and I somehow conspired in our own kidnapping.
I get it. From the questions they’re asking, it appears they still have no idea who is behind the plot to kidnap us. With an election looming, they need to determine who is trying to interfere in our democracy. Fast.
But a strange emotion overtakes me as I talk through what happened in the Scandinavian wilderness. It feels weird to tell the story without Harry there.
I keep stumbling over my words, which is understandable, given I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. And it hasn’t exactly been the most relaxing of times.
As I emerge from the briefing, I’m still struggling to get my brain to engage in coherent thought.
I want to see Harry.
That is the only thought shining through the fog in my brain.
But Harry is with his wife. He’s got Prunella here.
And I don’t have anyone.
Just as I’m thinking that, an official approaches me, his eyes slightly wide.
“Mr. Webley, you have some visitors here to see you.” He motions for me to follow him into a room.
When I go through the doorway, I see the reason for his wide eyes.
The Prince of Wales and the Prince Consort are standing there.
“Your Royal Highnesses,” I manage to choke out.
“We were in Kenya when we got the news. We came as fast as we could,” Oliver says as he pulls me into a hug.
Oliver and I have never had a touchy-feely relationship, but I don’t hesitate to hug him back.
When we pull apart, I notice the bags under his eyes, the extra creases on his face I’m sure weren’t there before.
“You look terrible,” I say.
“Well, my best friend has been missing for over a month. It has not been the easiest of times.” He gives a creaky smile.
“We never gave up hope though,” Callum says.
“He means he spent all of his time researching survival-against-all-odds stories while I moped around in a pit of despair,” Oliver says.
“I’m glad one of you used your time productively,” I say.
“He did harass the prime minister and the foreign secretary quite extensively,” Callum says.
“I might have simply checked in with a few ex-colleagues now and again to see if there was any news on the investigation.”
Callum throws an exasperated look at his husband. “Three times a day, sometimes more.”
“I can imagine the foreign secretary and a few other members of the government were torn between their want to getme back and their desire to keep Harry Matheson stranded out in the wilderness,” I say.
“There was actually a lot of speculation that if you had been in a plane crash, even if both Harry and you survived the initial crash, only one of you would be left to rescue.” Oliver raises an eyebrow. “But you obviously managed to resist the urge to strangle him.”
“We learned to work together. We had to.”
It became a lot easier once we started having hot sex.
