Christ, I was only in the air for an hour. You’d think I stole the thing and flew across the world with it. I inhale, dragging my hand down my face. My foot taps as my blood boils. I’m sick of Cal treating me like a kid when I’m his second in command. He should tell me when he needs the jet, just as much as I should tell him.
Paddy:Fuck you, asshole. The jet is all of ours. I have a right to use it without asking Your Highness for permission.
I roll my eyes when Callum responds with a phone call.
“What?” I snap.
“What the fuck is in New York, Paddy?”
I grind my teeth. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
I don’t respond. Cal remains silent for a moment. “You knew I was supposed to be taking Haley to Seattle tonight,” he says finally, in a soft whisper. “What’s going on, baby bro?”
Fuck. I’d completely forgotten about his plans with Haley this evening when I scheduled the last-minute flight. Camille had called me crying that she needed to go to the hospital for the baby. Something about falling and landing on her stomach. My brain has been anywhere but present lately, and the frazzled call put me on high alert. I was only thinking about getting to her as quickly as possible. Standing, I grab my carry-on from the overhead compartment. “Shit. Callum. I completely forgot.”
“Mhmm.” Callum says in a dry tone.
“You know I wouldn’t have taken off like this if it wasn’t important. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Even though he’s on the other line, I catch the hint of concern in his tone.
“I promise when the timing is right, I’ll tell you everything.”
“And when will the timing be right?”
When Griffin doesn’t hate me anymore. When we’re not dealing with Savi’s drama. When I figure out how to handle Camille without you thinking I’m an incompetent man.
I admit none of that out loud. “Soon. I just need to sort some…. things out.” I step off the plane and onto the tarmac where I already have a town car waiting for me.
“Fine. Let me know when you’re on the flight. ”
“I’m not going to be leaving New York today, Callum. I have some shit I have to do. I’ll see you in Boston on Sunday.”
“Fine.” Another beat of silence. “I’ll see you. And Paddy? It’s Your Majesty.”
My face scrunches in confusion. “Huh?”
“You called me Your Highness. When addressing the king, it’s Your Majesty. Everyone else in the royal family would be Your Highness.”
I snort. “Fuck off with your semantics.”
He chuckles before disconnecting the line.
“Good evening, Mr. Murphy. How was your flight?” The driver opens the back door for me, and I slide into the seat. I can’t remember his name right now.
He’s been the same one who fetches me from the airport whenever I visit, but I don’t think I’ve ever gotten his name. Or maybe I have, and it’s just escaping me right now. I hired him the second I found out there was a possibility that the baby was mine. Shit, I really need to learn his name if this is going to be a constant.
I also hired a bodyguard for Camille. John Norman and I deployed together, and he started up his own security company compiled of ex-military men. Because of the secrecy, I outsourced the help, and Norman put his best soldier on Camile. His name is right there, on the tip of my tongue, but seems I forgot that, too.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, and the driver glances into the rearview mirror to look at me. “Names are hard for me to remember.”
“It’s Miles, Mr. Murphy.”
“Miles. Thank you.” I straighten the collar of my blue dress shirt. “I’ll probably ask you a thousand more times.”
He chuckles, glancing back through the windshield. “Miss Sorrentino is at Mt. Sinai Maternal Care. It’s about a thirty-five-minute drive from JFK. We should get there easily without traffic.”
