Just Friends With a Prince

Just Friends With a PrinceBecky Tzag Copyright © 2023 Becky TzagThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected] FRIENDS WITH A PRINCEFirst edition. June 2023Copyright © 2023 Becky TzagCover design by Kari March DesignsISBN 979-8-3953-8669-4 (paperback) This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever felt a little lost in life. Take some time to just be. Don't settle, and remember that you are fucking sunshine! Contents Title PageCopyrightDedicationChapter 1 - HarperChapter 2 - HarperChapter 3 - HarperChapter 4 - HarperChapter 5 - HarperChapter 6 - HarperChapter 7 - TateChapter 8 -TateChapter 9 - HarperChapter 10 - HarperChapter 11 - HarperChapter 12 - TateChapter 13 - HarperChapter 14 - TateChapter 15 - HarperChapter 16 - TateChapter 17 - HarperChapter 18 - HarperChapter 19 - HarperChapter 20 - Harper Chapter 21 - TateChapter 22 - HarperChapter 23 - TateChapter 24 - HarperChapter 25 - TateChapter 26 - HarperChapter 27 - TateChapter 28 - Harper Chapter 29 - TateChapter 30 - HarperChapter 31 - TateChapter 32 - HarperChapter 33 - Harper Chapter 34 - HarperChapter 35 - TateChapter 36 - HarperChapter 37 - HarperChapter 38 - TateChapter 39 - HarperChapter 40 - TateChapter 41 - HarperChapter 42 - HarperChapter 43 - HarperChapter 44 - TateChapter 45 - HarperChapter 46 - TateChapter 47 - HarperChapter 48 - HarperChapter 49 - TateChapter 50 - Harper Chapter 51 - Harper Chapter 52 - Harper EpilogueAcknowledgementAbout The Author Chapter 1 - Harper“I’m sorry Harper, but we’re going to have to let you go.” Whoa, hold on here for just a minute. What the hell is Mr. Peters talking about? I’ve been working as an administrative assistant at Peters Designs for 5 years. I don’t love my job, but I’m competent at it. “Can you please explain why? Did I do something wrong?” Mr. Peters looks away from me. He’s uncomfortable and doesn’t like confrontation. I can tell he just wants me to accept this and leave. I’m so confused that I’ll probably do just that.“It’s nothing personal, dear, but fewer people are hiring home designers right now. People are still recovering from the pandemic and are simply not redecorating as much right now. This truly is just business. If you can please tidy your desk and stop by HR, Anne will have your last paycheque ready for you.” And that was it. I was dismissed. Five years of loyalty. Five years of my life gone. Sure, I never actually wanted to be an administrative assistant. I never wanted to move up in the world of design and decorating, but this still sucks. I place all my personal belongings in a box that just happened to appear on my desk while I was in Mr. Peters’ office. I really don’t even have too much. A few pictures, including one of me and my boyfriend Levi, one of me and my mom on a camping trip, and one of me and my sister at her wedding in Sova where she now lives with her amazing husband. Some pens (including my absolute favourite one that I once snarled at a co-worker over who asked to borrow it). A small succulent. And that’s it. Five years of my life summed up in a box and it looks incredibly pathetic. After a stop in HR, where sweet grandmotherly Anne gives me a hug, a chocolate chip cookie and my last paycheque, I’m now sitting in my car wondering what I should do now. I blow out a giant raspberry and rest my forehead on the steering wheel, hands clenching it so tight my knuckles have turned white. I feel a few tears escape my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I wipe them away angrily. I don’t want to be sad. I’m angry, frustrated and shocked, but not sad. What’s done is done. Sitting here crying, fogging up my windows with my sobs, isn’t going to change anything. I need to take these feelings and use them as fuel. I jam the keys into the ignition and turn the car on. I make a plan with myself as I pull out of my parking space and leave the underground parking lot. “Ok Harper, things will work out. Sometimes shitty things happen, but that’s ok, because it lets us see how crappy the path that we were walking on really was. Time to choose a new, non-pothole ridden path.” I take a breath. Plan time. Having a set plan always helps me to feel calmer. I don’t like not knowing what to expect. A step-by-step guide is exactly what I need right now. “First, I will go home and do a deep clean of the kitchen. Clean all the grout on the counter and island and scrub the sink. Second, I need carbs and cheese, so obviously I’ll make a lasagna and then shove a handful of chocolate covered almonds in my face. It’s only ten in the morning. I’ll have hours to scrub and think. Then when Levi gets home a little after five o’clock, I’ll have some sort of plan to talk over with him.” I breathe out a giant sigh of relief as I make a left turn onto yet another busy Toronto street. It doesn’t seem to matter what time or day it is, there are always people going somewhere. Watching everyone rush is kind of exhausting. My mind wanders to what Levi is going to say. Levi hates surprises, but he hates deviating from his plans even more. Me losing my job definitely goes against the plan. Levi has had his entire life mapped out for him, probably since his father