Chapter 30 #2
I’m so caught up in admiring Callum that I startle when I hear my name come from the emcee’s lips. Apparently, it’s my turn to be the target of a joke.
“Oliver Hartwell, the prime minister, is here as well.” There are a lot of cheers and a few boos. He pauses, and once they’ve faded, he continues, “I’ve heard rumors that Oliver’s cabinet meetings are like episodes of Downton Abbey—lots of drama, gossip, and people wondering what’s for dinner.”
I give a wry chuckle as the audience laughs. Callum shoots me a smile.
I settle back to enjoy the show, but my eyes continue darting to Callum because seeing his enjoyment of the show becomes my enjoyment. He laughs throughout, and the space inside me for pure happiness, the one I never knew existed, grows larger and larger.
The last act of the night is Mirthful Merlin, a comedy magician.
He initially does a trick where he makes his very attractive assistant disappear into thin air.
Hmm. I can’t help wondering if that trick can be extended to ex-husbands. I wouldn’t mind Garett buggering off and never being seen again.
But then, Mirthful Merlin ushers twenty children from the heart charity onto the stage. They stand fidgeting with expressions ranging from shyness to excitement.
“Now, for our final trick of the night, we’re going to need some royal assistance. Does anyone know where I can find a prince? Are there any princes around here?” Mirthful Merlin makes a big deal of putting his hand on his brow and peering into the audience.
My heart lurches for a different reason as Callum stands and makes his way onto the stage as the audience cheers and claps.
I’m assuming this was prearranged with his security team, but seeing Callum vulnerable on stage has my adrenaline spiking.
He glances in my direction as he gets mic’d up, and I give him a tense smile in return.
“How are you feeling, Your Royal Highness?” Mirthful Merlin asks.
“Slightly nervous,” Callum says, and everyone laughs.
The magician unveils a large, ornate vase and places it on a table.
“This is no ordinary vase,” Mirthful Merlin says. “It’s a magical rainmaker vase. The children are going to create some rain.”
Callum sits on a chair as every child is handed a small vial filled with a mysterious, sparkling liquid. They follow Mirthful Merlin’s instructions to tip their vial into the vase.
Once the last child has finished, Mirthful Merlin looks at Callum with a large grin.
“Any last words before our magical spell, Your Royal Highness?”
“Any chance I can request a light drizzle rather than a downpour?” Callum asks the children.
The kids giggle, and my heart contracts at the looks on their faces.
Because Callum just shines. He shines so bright that it’s almost difficult to look at him. And somehow, he manages to share that brightness with everyone around him.
“Are you ready to chant the magic words, kids?” Mirthful Merlin asks.
There’s a bunch of enthusiastic nodding.
“Okay, on the count of three. Gentle rain for the royal mane. Gentle rain for the royal mane.”
As the children chant, a small cloud forms above the vase and begins to sprinkle a light rain, precisely targeting Callum’s hair.
The audience bursts into laughter and applause.
Callum laughs too, running his hand through his damp hair.
“How do you feel?” Mirthful Merlin asks.
He gives the kids a cheeky grin. “I think we’ve just proven that even royalty can’t escape the whims of British weather.”
With that, Ralph Jacobson returns to end the show with a few jokes about the weather while Callum removes his mic and stays on stage talking to the children. They all giggle with him.
As soon as the lights come up, I’m on my feet, heading to the bottom of the stage so I can greet him when he finishes.
“Did you enjoy the show?” The voice stops me when I’m only a table away from Callum. I turn around, and Garett’s standing there, watching me with slightly narrowed eyes.
“Yes, I did.” I can’t help glancing back at Callum, and Garett follows my gaze.
“So, what do you think of our future king?” There’s a drawl in Garett’s voice that I know is inviting me into mocking territory. I used to enjoy Garett’s sharp wit. But I hate it now that it’s stabbing towards the man I love.
“I think he did a great job.” I try to keep the bristle out of my voice, but Garett knows me too well. He can hear the off-note in my tone.
His eyebrows tilt up and he squints at me. “How well do you know him?”
“I’ve spent a bit of time with him. He was at Balmoral while I was there over the summer.”
“Is he the dimwitted himbo he comes across as?”
“No. He’s actually one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met,” I say coolly.
Defending Callum to Garett will only raise his suspicion, but I can’t help myself. I won’t let anyone disparage Callum in my presence.
My eyes slide back to Callum, where he’s still on the stage. Someone has given him a towel to dry his hair. He’s taken off his bow tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt so he can dry his neck. Even seeing him expose that amount of skin has me aching to touch him.
He leans forward to talk to a child, and the chain around his neck tumbles out.
The chain that contains the dog tags I gave him.
The fact that Callum is wearing my dog tags instantly makes my heart swell.
Until I realize there’s one other person in the world who would recognize my grandad’s dog tags.
Dog tags that have holes punched in both the bottom and the top.
And that person is standing right next to me.
I shoot a look at Garett. His mouth has dropped open, his eyes wide as he stares at the dog tags around Callum’s neck.
Fuck.
Garett turns to me, the shock evident on his face.