Page 151 of The Unlikely Pair
My father’s head whips up to stare at me. A beat passes between us. Then two beats.
“Harry, you’ve had a traumatic life experience. You’re not thinking straight,” he says finally.
I press my fingers into my forehead. “I’m assuredly not thinking straight.”
“I mean, you’re not thinking things through clearly.”
“I actually feel I’m seeing things more clearly than ever,” I say.
My father shifts in his seat. He puts his cigar down and picks up his glass of brandy but doesn’t take a sip. “Do you want to know why I never ascended to the leadership of the party?”
I squirm uncomfortably. We’ve never talked about this, and I’ve never wanted to know. I’ve preferred to remain ignorant out of respect for my mother.
“I know the party chairperson withdrew his support for your leadership bid,” I say.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors as to why.”
“Yes, I have.”
My father is silent for a long moment, his expression inscrutable as he stares into the brandy he’s cradling in his hands. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and gravelly.
“There was someone. Someone I cared for deeply, who made me feel alive in ways I never had before. But it was impossible for a multitude of reasons. So, I made the choice to end things. I confessed everything to your mother, and she forgave me. Then, I buried those feelings and focused on my ambitions instead. But by the time I made that decision, it was too late, and the rumors were out. That’s what cost me my leadership bid.”
My father takes a deep breath, looking down at his cigar. “I made a mistake. I let my feelings interfere with my career. It’s the greatest regret of my life.”
He gives me a hard look. “Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
My father’s words swirl around my head as I prepare for bed.
I’ve denied my sexuality for so long. Surely I can suppress my feelings for Toby in the same way?
I look at the framed print of the snowstorm that now hangs in my bedroom and the words accompanying the picture run through my head.
We've got to go through it.
But for the first time in my life, I can’t envision how I’m going to just brace myself and get through this.
Chapter Forty-Four
Toby
Another day, another ceremonial event. After our time in the wilderness, all the traditions I’ve accepted for years feel trivial and meaningless.
This time, it’s the Lord Mayor’s Banquet. It’s held every year to celebrate the newly elected Lord Mayor of the City of London, a ceremonial position that dates back centuries. The banquet is a glittering affair, filled with dignitaries, politicians, and business leaders, all dressed to the nines and ready to schmooze.
We are the leaders, dining in splendor while out in the city of almost ten million there are people who are hungry and cold.
I now know intimately what it’s like to be hungry and cold. And I will do everything I can to prevent my constituents from experiencing that.
The opulent Guildhall is always the venue for the Lord Mayor’s Banquet. It is situated on the north bank of the Thames, which has, for two millennia, had to absorb the filth of humanity. It’s quite a contrast to the pristine streams and lakes in Scandinavia.
Long banquet tables fill the entire hall. I’m seated next to Prince Callum and Oliver, which I’m sure involved Oliver pulling some strings, but I don’t complain. At least with Oliver andCallum, I can be real. I’m exhausted from keeping up the façade that everything is fine and dandy.
Because everything is not fine and dandy with me right now.
This world that used to be so familiar to me now feels so strange. The chatting people, the extravagant floral arrangements, the clink of champagne flutes toasting to prosperity—it all feels hollow.
As if some essential part of me is missing.
