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She’s changed so much since I’ve been gone, another inch or two taller and filling out her dress with tempting curves. I’m glad to see her jade green eyes—the exact shade of her dress—are unchanged. I take comfort in that. I wish I were looking at them up close. I wish we were alone now, getting reacquainted.
She bends low to chat with a girl sitting in a wheelchair, whispering in her ear and making her giggle. I smile reflexively and then laugh under my breath when I catch myself.
She talks to the young girl for longer than necessary. Whitney’s line coordinator tries to catch her attention—no doubt to speed her along—but Whitney ignores her and lets the child feel her dress then her hair. The children are especially in love with her hair. Dark red, nearly auburn, it looks barely tamed.
I stand there through the remainder of her shift, watching her interact with the guests. The tailor’s assistant wasn’t exaggerating. Whitney goes the extra mile with each and every child who steps forward to meet her. Her smile never wavers, her enthusiasm just as strong with the one hundredth family as it was with the first.
By her side, through the entirety of her shift, is the man currently playing His Royal Highness. The guy looks fresh out of college with a cocky smirk and enough gel in his hair to groom the entire cast of Grease. He’s not the main attraction, but even still, some of the children are eager to meet him. A few of them insist that he and Whitney both crowd in for a photo. When she’s busy with children, he watches her, interest heavy in his gaze. When one child pleads with him to kiss her on the cheek, Whitney laughs, but he’s all too happy to oblige. He wraps his hands around her waist and tugs her toward him. The crowd goes wild. His mouth presses against her cheek and cameras flash. After, he murmurs something against the shell of her ear and Whitney’s cheeks redden. My eyes narrow.
When the line finally clears and the last child is whisked out of the room, Whitney releases her smile and sighs in relief, stretching out her cheeks and mouth like she’s trying to regain feeling in her face. The gesture makes me smile. It reminds me of the girl I used to know.
I give her a brief respite before I step away from my vantage point and walk past the red rope.
She’s doesn’t notice me right away, not until her line manager spots me and blinks three times in quick succession. Her recognition is unexpected. I’ve been away from the US park for a long time.
“Oh. Hi. Sir, hi.” Her manager repeats the greeting twice, and I’m worried a third will follow before she nods in reverence. “I didn’t know you were here observing the meet-and-greet.”
I smile to ease her worry. “Unofficially.”
When I speak, Whitney’s spine stiffens before she slowly turns and glances at me over her shoulder. Her jade eyes narrow on first impulse before she catches herself and smooths her features.
“Whitney, I was hoping to speak with you for a moment if that’s all right.”
She frowns at the idea, and I realize I could have found a more appropriate time to reunite with her. She’s just ended an exhausting shift. She’s probably dead on her feet.
“I won’t keep you long,” I assure her.
“Yes, of course. No problem,” her line manager answers for her, ushering the last few employees out of the room—everyone except her co-star, the cheek-kisser. He hovers annoyingly close until I smile in his direction. My mouth says I’m a polite guy. My eyes say, Get the fuck out.
“Want me to wait for you?” he asks Whitney.
“I should be fine, Ryan. Thanks.”
Ryan aims a careful glare in my direction—a warning, if I’m not mistaken.
I ignore him and step closer, extending my hand to Whitney. It seems appropriate given the circumstances, but she stares down at it like I’m offering her a piranha. I realize my misstep. Just because her line manager recognized me doesn’t mean she will.
“Ah, right—you might not remember me. I’m Derek, Cal’s grandson.” I tip my head. “I mentored you for a few months, years ago, back when you were a participant in our college internship program.”
“I remember you,” she says, making no move to accept my handshake.
This is going…oddly.
I withdraw my hand and stuff it in my front pocket, untroubled.
“Right. Well, it’s good to see you again. I watched the last half of your shift and this role fits you to a T. I doubt there’s anyone on earth more suited for the position of Princess Elena than you.”
The smile she aims at me is tight. Then she glances pointedly over her shoulder. “Mr. Knightley, it’s nice to see you again, but it’s been a long shift and…”
