His Royal Highness(60)

I bet she was out the second I closed the door.

I smile and set down the tray of food before turning down my duvet and tossing a few stray pillows aside to make room for the two of us. When I lift her up off the chair, I expect her to stir, but she doesn’t make a peep. I tuck her in and carry the food out with me, heading to check on Cal.

I was right about his doctor having left already, but he’s still awake, propped up on his bed with pillows. A nurse sits in the corner, looking at her laptop, and when she sees me, she smiles and stands, leaving us.

There’s a small lamp on beside his bed, but most of the light streams into the room through the windows. Though the sun set hours ago, the streets inside Fairytale Kingdom are lined with lamps, illuminating the overnight crews who are working away: mowing the lawns, watering the flowers, emptying the trash cans, fixing benches, repainting buildings—doing anything they can to touch up the park so it looks as good as new when guests arrive again in the morning. Cal watches it all from his perch on his bed.

He looks better than he did a few hours ago. Color has returned to his cheeks. The hospital gown has been swapped for pajamas and a thick white robe.

“Hungry?” I ask, setting the tray beside his bed.

“Ava brought me some food a while ago. It was good. Sit. Eat.” Then he glances over my shoulder. “Where’s Whitney?”

“Asleep.”

“Here?”

“Yes. In my room.”

He nods then looks back out the window.

“I’ve been careful with her over the years,” he says. “She had a unique upbringing. The forgotten child in her family, you could say.”

“She told me about that, years ago.”

I was reminded of it the other day at rehearsals when her phone kept going off. It was her sister, Avery, wanting to know if she was still coming up to New York for a visit. I’m not sure Whitney would have told me anything about it had I not been standing there while she read the texts.

“Her sister is performing on Broadway now,” Cal shares. “Whitney’s parents are proud. Their world revolves around Avery. It always has. You know in all the years I’ve mentored Whitney, I’ve never met her parents. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

I frown, thinking it over.

“They don’t make it down here often,” he continues. “In fact, I can’t recall the last time they visited her. Whitney flies to New York every now and then to see them, but she always comes home worse off than when she left.”

“Sounds like she’s better off without them.”

He turns back to me. “Like you’re better off without your dad?”

I shrug, feeling guilty. “I know I should want a relationship with him, but the truth is, you took his place years ago. I’ve never wanted for family.”

Cal smiles and reaches over to pat my hand. “I think that’s the exact reason why I’ve been careful with her. Imagine if you and I didn’t have each other, how tough a road that would have been…”

I stay silent, mulling it over.

“You’ll take care of her, won’t you?” he asks.

Something clicks for me then. It’s an obvious truth I’ve been ignoring all these weeks. I’ve always known Cal to be a few steps ahead of the rest of us. His mind works continuously, inventing and designing every aspect of the park. I didn’t realize he was extending his gifts to my life as well. Sitting here with him now, I finally piece together the real reason Cal placed me in the role of His Royal Highness. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the board had nothing to do with it at all. Cal was playing matchmaker.

I’m sure of it.

I wonder how long he’s wanted Whitney and me to be together. I don’t ask. It doesn’t matter now. If anything, I should thank him. Instead, I nod, answering his question, and stand, feeling deeply exhausted.

“Before you go, Derek, there’s something we need to discuss about the company.”





Chapter Eighteen





Cal





When I hear the sound of Whitney’s voice at my door, I stuff my book back under my covers and lie back, feigning sleep. She’s here with my breakfast. I can hear the clink of ceramic as she sets the tray down on the nightstand beside my bed.

“Cal?” she whispers, touching my hand.

I make sure my breathing sounds haggard, a wheeze or two thrown in for good measure. It works well. On cue, Whitney’s hand tightens around mine. Her gentle grip translates all of her worries.

I peel one eye open slowly, as if it takes all the strength left in me.

“Whitney?” I ask, acting fatigued.

She smiles tentatively. “Morning. How are you feeling?”

Wonderful. That nurse and I played cards half the night and she proved to be a worthy opponent.

“Oh, I’ll manage,” I groan, trying to lift myself into a sitting position.

She leans forward to assist me and the first pang of guilt hits my heart. Serves me right, putting it on like this.

What option do I have though?

Whitney and Derek have been taking their sweet time, performing a prolonged mating ritual. Some of us don’t have years to wait around for them to admit their feelings for one another. I had no choice but to take action.