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“For what?”
Jameson drummed his fingers against his tumbler of whisky. He’d relayed Professor Graham’s wishes, the reception of which pleased Rhys. But he hadn’t mentioned Graham’s job offer. Or that Jameson was now considering it.
“To relocate. Graham offered me a position at Berkeley.”
His statement erased the perpetually disinterested look from Rhys’s face. “Are you serious?”
Jameson nodded. “I am.”
“Can you do that?”
“I don’t know yet. Up until a few hours ago, I was still employed. But I’ll find out.”
“That’s major. And you’re willing to make that transition for someone you’ve only known a couple of months?”
He’d asked himself that very question, so he wasn’t angry at Rhys for challenging him. From the outside, it would seem fast. But he and Dani had weathered a lot in their brief time together. He believed she was the one for him, even if they hadn’t figured out how it would all work.
And speaking of making it work—
“If things progress with you and Nyla, would you make the move?”
“Fuck, mate, I don’t know. We’re nowhere near that yet.”
“Well, where are you and how’s it going? I was surprised you didn’t make it to the premiere.”
“I know.” Rhys dropped his chin to his chest. “I wanted to be there.”
“Then why weren’t you?”
“Because attending her movie premiere on another fucking continent seemed a bit serious. You know I love an adventure and Nyla and I had some fun, but neither of us are ready for what me showing up as her date would mean.”
Jameson’s cellphone buzzed with a text from Edgar, the queen’s private secretary:
“The queen requests your presence at Buckingham Palace, tomorrow morning at elevena.m.”
Time to pay for the way he’d handled things back in June.
He shoved his phone across the desk and was on his feet refilling his drink before the device stopped spinning, perilously close to the edge.
Rhys arched a blond brow. “You may want to be done with the royal family, but it appears the royal family isn’t done with you.”
***
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
He hadn’t been ushered into the Den of Despondency, the bright yellow sitting room where he’d always received unwanted news that changed his life.
But the queen was still late.
Jameson shifted in his chair, attempting to protect his eyes from the rays of sun that managed to break through London’s perpetual cloud cover. Thankfully he’d made the right choice last night, putting the bottle of Glenmorangie away when he’d wanted nothing more than to drown his sorrows and ruminate on everything he’d recently lost: his privacy, his sanity, his career.
But you gained Dani.
And that was worth everything.
He knew that.
He meant it.
