His Royal Highness(79)

I hold out the donuts and her forehead wrinkles in distress. “You’ll come in for a second though, won’t you? Or do you need to get to the airport right away?”

I tell her I can stay for a little while.

“Good. Come in. Come in and we can talk for a second. I think there are a few things that need to be said.”

Derek says he’ll wait for me down on the street and tells my mother it was nice to see her again. I’m glad he’s not coming in. The next few minutes will be hard enough without an audience.

Dad is sitting on the couch with his coffee, and though he’s already showered and dressed for the day, he looks like hell. Dark circles sag under his eyes and when he sees me, he only offers a small pleading smile, like he’s not quite sure how I’ll react to him.

I want to go straight to him and give him a hug, but I hover near the door, waiting. My mom isn’t sure what to do with the donuts. She holds the box in her hands. My dad clears his throat, looks into his coffee for advice, and then chances a quick glance over at me. It breaks my heart to see them like this.

I never wanted to hurt them, and I think that’s why it took me so long to gather the courage to speak up and ask for what I needed.

My mom eventually sets the donuts on the counter and then walks into the living room, flattening a hand over her hair and then her dress. She turns to look at me and speaks suddenly.

“I don’t really know how to start,” she says, frowning at the ground in front of my feet. “I know you don’t have long, so maybe we should just cut to the chase? Yes?”

She looks to my dad for backup and he nods.

“Whitney,” she continues with a weak voice. “I want you to know that your dad and I are sorry for how we’ve handled things. After what you said last night…well, we got to talking and we realize we messed up—” She looks away and takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she turns back, there are tears brimming in her eyes. “Your dad and I, we love you very much, and we’ve done a poor job of showing you that sometimes. You were always our easy child—good grades, never got in any trouble when you were growing up—and I think, in some ways, we took you for granted.”

Pretty soon, there’s not a dry eye in the room.





Fifteen minutes later, when I return to the sidewalk, tears drying on my cheeks, I feel a hundred pounds lighter. Like if I’m not careful, I might just float away on a breeze. Derek’s leaning against the brick wall beside the door, and when he sees me, he straightens up and pockets his phone.

Without a word, he walks straight for me, takes my luggage out of my hand, and hugs me. His hugs are my favorite thing about him. More than his kisses. More than anything we did in that hotel room last night. His body eclipses me and it’s as if I’ve just slipped behind an impenetrable shield. The world can’t hurt me as long as he’s there.

“Everything good?” he asks hesitantly.

“Better than good. They’re going to come down next month for a visit. Just a short weekend trip, but they want to see the park and get to know you a little better too.”

He nods and leads me toward the street, where our driver is still waiting.





In our terminal, while we wait for our flight to take off, I search the toy section of a store and find one of those machines that eats quarters and spits out junk in return—temporary tattoos, plastic kazoos, Chinese finger traps. I have to feed it over eight dollars before I finally manage to secure two plastic rings. One has a large diamond, the other a princess cut emerald.

I distribute the excess tchotchkes to two excited kids lingering near me whose parents are less than thrilled with their kazoo-filled future. Mom! Listen! Then, I walk back to where Derek is sitting at the gate with his laptop out, catching up on work. For a second, before he sees me, I admire him as if he were a stranger. I’m not the only one. I pass two curly-haired women, well into their 80s, who are talking about him in near shouts.

“Sheryl, you weren’t kidding. He’s a dead ringer for that actor we used to love. What’s his name?”

“Oh who cares. Just let me admire him while I can. And turn your hearing aid down—it’s ringing again.”

Derek glances up and sees me, unleashing a smile that devastates us all.

“Oh, she must be the girlfriend,” one of them says.

“Isn’t she lucky,” the other agrees. “Lord, if I were forty years younger…”

I’m still grinning at this exchange by the time I reach Derek.

He asks why I’m so happy. I kiss his cheek then nod my head toward the two women.

“They were talking about you.”

He arches a brow. “Think I have a shot? The one on the right is cute. I like her cat shirt.”

“Should I excuse myself?”

He shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. “Oh, you’re still here?”

“Yeah, now focus because I need to propose to you so I can get free stuff on this flight.”

He looks heavenward. “It’s like you’ve never left the house before.”

“What?! This is first class we’re talking about. Excuse me, but I grew up poor, so just let me have this.”

I retrieve the rings from my jeans pocket and hold them out to him.