Page 137 of The Thing About My Prince
He had a choice between himself and me, and he chose me.
And I didn’t even know it.
My heart doesn’t know what to do with itself, whether to explode with love and gratitude or to be furious with him for not taking care of himself first, for not doing what he needed to do to secure his own livelihood.
He dismisses this monumental sacrifice with a half-smile and a one-shouldered shrug as if it’s nothing, as if it’s an everyday thing to throw away your future so someone else can have theirs.
And, oh my God, I have never loved this beautiful, selfless man more.
Nor despised his parents more for manipulating him like that, out of their own overriding desire for the public to never know anything about how it really is inside the royal family.
“But your parents threatened you, Oliver.” How can they keep treating him like this? “They used me to threaten you. To get you to do what they wanted. That’s not an okay thing for someone’s family to do to them.”
“I know. I know my life is not like yours,” he says. “But I think inside we’re the same. And you’re the inspiration for an idea for a new job that excites me more than I ever thought possible.”
A smile breaks out on his face that lights it up like a ray of hopeful sunshine.
“You suddenly look more positive than I’ve ever seen you.” I squeeze his hands. “When I left you at the church, I was worried all the family bullshit might send you into a tailspin.”
“I did nosedive for a bit. But the other day I called the guy at the streaming service who’d pulled the plug on the documentary when the book was scrapped.”
They must have offered him another project. I can only hope to God it isn’t something horribly embarrassing that he’s taken because he needs the income, like a reality show that has him locked inside a house for a month with a bunch of has-been celebrities.
He leads back to sit and puts an arm around my waist as he slides against me, pressing our hips and thighs together. “I told him about an idea I had for a documentary series about hidden social issues that never make the news because they are so embedded in our culture they barely seem newsworthy anymore, because we don’t really see them. Like homelessness. And parents who work three jobs but still struggle to pay the bills and put food on the table. And families like Kirsty and her dad who face traumatic illnesses and even lose a kid but still somehow go to work to pay the bills and just get on with their lives. I mean, how the fuck do people do that?”
Okay, I didn’t see that coming. The gears of my mind shift into reverse as they recalibrate and try to process this unexpected statement.
“I think that’s…yeah…that’s a truly genius idea.” His eyes sparkle at my reaction, and my brain starts firing on all cylinders. “And you could do comparisons of how different countries, and people in different cultures, deal with each of those issues.”
He beams, and his grip on me tightens. “That’s brilliant. See, we’d make an excellent team.”
His obvious joy and pride at having come up with hisown plan for his own life, that involves something he really believes in, fills me with the biggest, warmest love for him.
I reach up to cup his cheek. “It’s good to see you this fired up and excited. Maybe you’ve found your purpose.”
“I never would have got to this without you. Sooo…” He circles his other arm around my belly, clasping his hands against my hip, and leans in. “How about you work on it with me? I’ve had two meetings with the guy already. Of course we need to get it all nailed down with official proposals and budgets and everything. But he’s virtually implied it’s a done deal and that I can executive produce it.”
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
I turn my head away slightly and look back at him out of the corner of my eye. “Areyouoffering me a job? Is my royal, influential, possible boyfriend offering me a job on his new global TV show and thinking I’d be okay with that?”
“I’m very excited about thepossible boyfriendpart of that sentence.”
He rocks us from side to side. “But, on a professional level, yes, I am offering you a job. But not because I’m doing you a favor. Because you’re the best person for it. And I would be absolutely fucking thrilled and privileged to work with you and learn from you. I think our brains go well together, even though yours is about four thousand times smarter than mine. And I think this could be the most fulfilling job of our lives.”
“Fulfilling jobandfulfilling life?” I say it almost to myself. “The holy grail?”
He leans in, his forehead brushing against my hair, and I lean into him. “Yes, the holy fucking grail.”
The fresh scent of his laundry detergent is a stark contrast to the sunbaked earth and dust I’ve inhaled these last three weeks.
Should I do this? Take this plunge with him? My life, my heart, my career? All my eggs in one Oliver-shaped basket? Itsounds like a terrible risk. If even one of those things went wrong, I’d lose everything all at once.
“I still have three weeks on this contract.” I shift to look up at him. “I have to be here, in Yemen, till then.”
Oliver takes me by the upper arms, dips his head to bring his eyes level with mine, and looks right into me. His eyelids flicker rapidly like he’s giddy with disbelief. “So that’s ayes?”
“I’m saying that, three weeks from now, you might have changed your mind and not want to do any of this with me.”
