His Royal Highness(15)

It took forty minutes to pen and was an endeavor akin to pulling teeth. Avery would suggest a word, I’d shoot it down and spend five minutes trying to come up with something better. In the end, it read like this:



Dear Derek,





Thank you for giving me time off this week. I didn’t realize how badly I needed it. New York City has been a blast, but I’m anxious to be home. This is my favorite time of year at Fairytale Kingdom—there’s nothing like seeing the castle decorated for the holidays.





I know we don’t have another meeting set until next month, but I was hoping you’d join me for dinner on Saturday night, after I get back in town? Maybe we could even drop the mentor/mentee labels just for one night.





Until then,

Whitney

XO





Avery talked me into the “XO” and the sentence about dropping labels, because in her opinion, without them, I wasn’t making my feelings known.

“It’s still subtle. Don’t worry.”

I did worry. I worried through the remainder of that day and the next.

I worried myself out of enjoying Thanksgiving dinner and the rest of my time in New York. I flew home to Georgia in a cold sweat, wondering what fate would greet me once I touched the ground. I should have immediately followed the first email with a second.

Ha! Oh my god. Sorry. My account got hacked.

Maybe I would have had I not received an auto-response from him right away.





I’m out of the office for the Thanksgiving holiday and won’t have regular access to email.





I’ll try to respond in as timely a manner as possible.





If it’s something urgent, please email [email protected].





Sincerely,

Derek Knightley





I couldn’t bear the idea of emailing him a second time. I wanted the first one to disappear, but it sat in my sent folder, festering.

The Sunday before classes started back up, an email finally hit my inbox.





From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Mentor Program





This email is to inform you that your mentor is no longer a participant in our program. This will not jeopardize your credit hour. All previous meetings will be counted toward your requirement.





You’ve been placed with a new mentor: Charles Knightley, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of the Knightley Company.





His assistant will contact you within the next week to establish a time frame for your first meeting. As a reminder, each mentee is required to meet with their mentor at least four times per semester.





Do not respond to this email. Please direct questions to [email protected]





I kept it together as I snatched my phone off my bed and headed for the door. Carrie asked me where I was going, but I shook my head and scurried out into the hall, trying desperately to make it outside before losing it. Avery was the only person I wanted to talk to, and she answered on the second ring, listening as I told her what had happened.

It made no sense. Had I offended him so badly he didn’t even want to be my mentor anymore? Had I crossed a line in a way we couldn’t come back from?

Avery was enraged on my behalf, calling Derek every name under the sun and spouting off a sharp, confident “You can do better” pep talk that only made me feel worse.

For the next few days, I was a mess. I typed out five different emails to Derek and deleted every single one. I entered his work number into my phone—the one at the bottom of his email signature—and then wavered, ultimately chickening out every time.

Carrie knew something was wrong with me, so I lied and said I had the flu. It bought me freedom to wallow.

I’d waver between despair over the fact that I’d ruined a good thing and hope that maybe Derek had asked to be removed as my official mentor because of his complicated feelings for me. That hope only spawned in the dead of night, when my brain was too sleepy to notice the obvious naivety of it.

A week after I was informed of my new mentor assignment, I came back from class and found a bold unread email at the top of my inbox. Derek’s name shocked my heart back to life. I leapt for my chair and quadruple-clicked. It sprang up across the screen, but when I read his words the first time, they seemed nonsensical.





Whitney,





Work has taken me to London.





Don’t worry, I haven’t dropped the ball as your mentor. My grandfather will advise you much better than I ever could. Take advantage of everything he’s willing to teach you.





Best,

Derek





I read it again, eyes focused on the first sentence.

Derek was going to London. London, England? For how long? He didn’t say.

He hadn’t addressed my proposal of dinner. No raincheck or promises to make it up to me when he returned. Worse, he hadn’t even suggested we stay in communication while he was gone. No mention of a continued friendship. No clues hinting that he might have felt the same way I did.