His Royal Highness(81)
Ava lays out a lunch spread of chicken salad sandwiches and fruit then excuses herself even though we all insist she stay. I wanted to use her as a buffer between me and these two Knightley men keen on holding me to my promise of radical change.
“I told Whitney about Thomas’ promotion to Head of Entertainment,” Cal says. “I think she should replace him.”
They both look at me. I shake my head.
“I’ve thought it over and I’m grateful for the opportunity, but I don’t think I want his job. I want to—”
“There’s an associate manager position open in Food and Beverage,” Derek says, cutting me off.
“Or what about something in Costuming?” Cal chimes in, and they volley back and forth as if I’m no longer at the table. I eat my chicken salad sandwich, chewing lazily.
“Guest relations,” Cal suggests.
“Casting.”
“Training. We need to overhaul that system anyway. Whitney could help with that.”
“Ahem.” I clear my throat.
I go unheard. They continue listing off departments and open positions.
“We could shift personnel over in the Enchanted Forest. The team over there could use some organization—”
I stand then, leaning over the table and waving my hands like a referee calling a foul. “Excuse me! Hi! It’s me, Whitney, the person you two are discussing. I just thought you’d both like to know that I already know where I’d like to work.”
“Well then, speak up,” Cal insists.
I crumple my five-year-plan napkin and throw it at him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Whitney
One month later
In my new job, I no longer wear a huge ball gown. Instead, I wake up and don the sort of clothes you’d find at a tech startup: smart casual jeans and sweaters from J.Crew, a blazer if I’m feeling fancy. It no longer takes me an hour to do my hair and makeup in the morning. My duties no longer include posing next to toddlers and politely declining the advances of weird uncles.
I am the Associate Director of Mentorship within the Knightley College Program. I help facilitate and foster mentor relationships for incoming freshmen, which is a pretentious way of saying I bully my friends until they agree to be mentors and then I pair them with freshmen who have similar interests.
I like my job. I’m good at it. I have my own office on the second floor of a bakery on Castle Drive. There’s a placard outside my door that has my name on it. I didn’t even have to hang it up there myself. My desk is made of some kind of thick wood and I got to pick my chair from a catalog. I’m an adult now.
I thought I’d miss working as Princess Elena more than I do. Sometimes I walk by Elena’s Castle, peer in, and see Ryan standing next to the new princess. I helped train her and she was a natural fit. In my head, no one was ever going to replace me in that role. In reality, it’s done rather quickly.
The absolute best perk about my new position is the jump in salary. In Character employees make jack-diddly-squat, a couple dollars over minimum wage, which was part of the reason why I took on the job as the residence hall manager as well.
Today is my last day of my duties in the dorm. I’ve been clearing my room out all week after work, packing up years of my life. I’m finally finished. The girls are waiting for me at the door, blocking my way out.
“You can’t leave us!”
“You’re one of us!
“We’re only on season four of Friends!”
I’m worried they’re going to cling to my legs and hold on for dear life. I’ll show up at Derek’s apartment with them in tow.
Please can we keep them?!
Fine, but they’re your responsibility.
“I’ll still see you guys around,” I promise.
It’s true. They’re all in the mentorship program. As it is, they already come by my office once a day to steal the candy I put out on my desk and to spy on the guests inside the park from my second-story windows. It’s the easiest way to find me considering I haven’t been at the dorm much lately. Something about Derek and his brawny frame has made it impossible to drag myself back here at night. For the last month, since we returned from New York, we’ve been mostly living together. Today, he and I are making it official.
“But don’t you like living here?” one of the girls asks, grasping at straws.
“Yes, you guys are wonderful, but I’m ready to shower in a noncommunal bathroom.”
“And she’s in loOoOve,” another one adds.
They all join in with the taunt and I laugh like, Ha ha ha, you really got me.
I am, though. In love, that is. Just like Savage Garden said, truly madly deeply.
“Are y’all done making fun of me? This box is getting heavy.”
They disperse with promises to come see me in my office in the morning. Then I turn back to survey the empty dorm room behind me, taking a moment to soak it in one more time. I’ve cursed this shoebox more than I’ve appreciated it. I hated the lack of storage and the cinderblock walls. I hated my hard mattress and the fact that my window was bolted shut. I can’t deny how much I’ve grown in this space, though. This is where I got to know Carrie and first fell for Derek. On that bed is where I would lie, reading the books he’d lent me and daydreaming about the possibility of a real future with him. Turns out, I wasn’t all that delusional.