Just Friends With a Prince, page 1
Just Friends With a Prince
Becky Tzag
Copyright © 2023 Becky Tzag
This 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: beckytzag@gmail.com
JUST FRIENDS WITH A PRINCE
First edition. June 2023
Copyright © 2023 Becky Tzag
Cover design by Kari March Designs
ISBN 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 Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1 - Harper
Chapter 2 - Harper
Chapter 3 - Harper
Chapter 4 - Harper
Chapter 5 - Harper
Chapter 6 - Harper
Chapter 7 - Tate
Chapter 8 -Tate
Chapter 9 - Harper
Chapter 10 - Harper
Chapter 11 - Harper
Chapter 12 - Tate
Chapter 13 - Harper
Chapter 14 - Tate
Chapter 15 - Harper
Chapter 16 - Tate
Chapter 17 - Harper
Chapter 18 - Harper
Chapter 19 - Harper
Chapter 20 - Harper
Chapter 21 - Tate
Chapter 22 - Harper
Chapter 23 - Tate
Chapter 24 - Harper
Chapter 25 - Tate
Chapter 26 - Harper
Chapter 27 - Tate
Chapter 28 - Harper
Chapter 29 - Tate
Chapter 30 - Harper
Chapter 31 - Tate
Chapter 32 - Harper
Chapter 33 - Harper
Chapter 34 - Harper
Chapter 35 - Tate
Chapter 36 - Harper
Chapter 37 - Harper
Chapter 38 - Tate
Chapter 39 - Harper
Chapter 40 - Tate
Chapter 41 - Harper
Chapter 42 - Harper
Chapter 43 - Harper
Chapter 44 - Tate
Chapter 45 - Harper
Chapter 46 - Tate
Chapter 47 - Harper
Chapter 48 - Harper
Chapter 49 - Tate
Chapter 50 - Harper
Chapter 51 - Harper
Chapter 52 - Harper
Epilogue
Acknowledgement
About 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 was a child. His great-grandfather started one of the largest law firms in Toronto, Metz, Sherr, and Tillman. His grandfather, father and Levi all work there. Levi’s plan consists of being a partner at the firm and marrying a beautiful, successful business woman. I used to feel honoured that he thought I fit the bill, but lately things have been strained between us. Less talking, less sex, less everything. No, me losing my job is not going to help. But, Levi loves me. He’ll help me figure out my next steps.
I pull up to our house about twenty minutes later, finally leaving the never-ending lines of cars and people rushing to-and-fro. It’s a modern looking two-storey detached house in a sought after neighbourhood. Our street is right off a busy road, but the neighbourhood itself is quiet. As I take the time to look at the house, I realize that I don’t like it. Nothing about this house or the neighbourhood says Harper. We moved here because Levi said it’s where we should buy a house. It’ll impress colleagues and clients, he said. It’ll make us look good, he said. This is where the important people live, he said. But, it’s ugly. It’s fake. It’s all wrong.
I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. My chest feels tight. My heart is beating a million times too fast. My head is swimming. Sweat is beading on my neck and temples. I focus on the irises in the flowerbeds. The beautiful mixes of purples and yellows help calm me. I breathe in slowly, counting to four. I hold it in for eight, and then breathe it out for seven seconds. I repeat this a few times until I can feel my heart slowing down. It’s ok. It will all be ok. I’m just freaking out because of my job. Panicking right now makes sense.
“Screw cleaning, I need a new plan. I’ll make a giant cup of tea, put on sweatpants, eat a whole bag of chips and watch Gilmore Girls. Stars Hollow will help.”
I take a breath and get out of my car. There’s a grey SUV that I don’t recognize parked in front of my house, but it’s probably just someone visiting a neighbour. Not like I’m here often during the day, so maybe that car is always parked in front of my house and I just never knew.
Levi installed a keyless entry door lock, saying “keyless is the way of the future, babe. Just think of how nice it’ll be to not fumble with your keys trying to get in!”
I hate when he calls me babe. But he has never listened to me when I tell him I didn’t want to be called baby or babe, he would just huff a laugh and continue with his preferred pet name.
I also prefer keys to punching in a code to unlock my door, if we’re taking stock of things I don’t like but never got any say in. He made the code his birthday, which seems very unsafe. I roll my eyes as I put in 0217 and open the door.
My ears are assaulted with cries of pleasure as soon as I walk in the door. “Oh god, yes! Just like that, baby!”
Ummm…ok…so perhaps that car parked in front of my house is visiting my house.
I feel like a robot. I quietly close the front door, take off my pumps and walk down the hall towards the living area. Levi is naked. Completely naked except fo
I turn around and go upstairs. I pull out clothes at random from our closet and toss them into a suitcase I find on the floor. The suitcase was a gift from Levi’s father. Some expensive brand that I could never afford, in plain, boring black. Next is my drawers with socks, underwear and bras. I can hear their moans, grunts and that beautiful, sturdy couch being banged against the wall the entire time I’m packing. Ok, bathroom time. I grab my beautiful teal carry-on suitcase (one I actually chose and bought myself, which Mr. Snottypants Metz sneered at), I toss in my makeup, brush and lotions. I even add some towels and shampoo, because why the fuck not? Jewelry, sunglasses, headbands, basically anything I see that’s mine or that I’ve recently used gets put into one of the two suitcases. Phone charger, Kindle, a couple of books. My file folder with all my important documents.
More moaning, more grunts, the tempo of the couch hitting the wall has sped up, telling me that they’re almost done and it’s time for me to go.
I go back downstairs and toss my bags by the front door as they finish.
“God, baby, that was incredible!” she gushes. He sucks at sex. She must be lying. That or he just sucks with me.
Great, now I have something else to agonize over.
I walk into the living room just as he’s climbing off her. They haven’t noticed me yet, so I take the opportunity to really look at him. He’s fairly tall at 5’11”, blond hair kept cut close to his head. No beard, no stubble. He’s not muscular but he’s not out of shape per se. He’s average. He’s ok. And looking at him now, I realize that I’m not attracted to him. I used to be, but it’s been a while since I felt that rush. At least I’m pretty sure I used to feel it. He’s objectively attractive, but I’m not attracted to him. I wonder when that changed.
I clear my throat and they both whip their heads over to where I’m standing. “Well, I’m going to leave. Levi, don’t forget to pick up your dry cleaning tomorrow, cause I sure as shit won’t be doing it for you. I packed some of my stuff, but I’ll be back at some point to get the rest. I’ll let you know when and would appreciate it if you weren’t here.”
I spin on my heel to leave when I hear Levi call out, “Harper, wait! This isn’t what it looks like!”
How stupid does he think I am??
“Excuse me?? I walk in and find you fucking some other woman against my couch and you have the audacity to tell me it’s not what it looks like?!? Fuck you, Levi! And random woman, if you knew that he was in a relationship, for the last three years I might add, then fuck you too! But if you didn’t know, I’m sorry you found out like this.”
And with that, I grab my bags, throw them in the trunk of my blue Toyota Corolla and leave.
Chapter 2 - Harper
I'm driving aimlessly down the least busy streets I can find. What the fuck just happened? What the fuck do I do? Why the fuck am I swearing so much?! I'm usually a levelheaded person. I keep calm and cool. I'm a motherfucking cucumber. But not today. No, today I'm a goddamn sailor who lost her job, saw her boyfriend having sex with another woman, moved out of her house and now has absolutely no plans at all. I have no job, no house and no boyfriend, but mostly right now I'm sad that I'm still wearing the dress and stupid underwire bra I put on this morning and not my beloved sweatpants.
This is one of those times that living so far away from my sister hurts. I have a sprinkling of family around, but a cousin isn’t going to cut it. I need my sister. My sister and I are very close. We’re the stereotypical sisters that look alike, speak alike and borrow each other’s clothing. Cara is almost exactly a year younger than me. She was born three weeks before my first birthday. Growing up, it was like I was living with my best friend, and I feel so incredibly blessed to have a sister like her. We both have medium length dark brown hair, but mine has a red shine to it, whereas hers is more multiple shades of brown. We both have blue eyes and are within an inch in height of each other (I’m an inch taller at 5’6”, thank you very much). Cara’s cheekbones are more prominent and she has a nicer butt, however, I have slightly bigger boobs, which I think evens us out. We get mistaken for twins quite a bit, and considering that she looks like an absolute goddess, I will happily take that comparison.
I call my sister on speakerphone as I continue to drive around. "Hey Harper, what's up?" my sister asks breezily . She sounds so happy. Sova is five hours ahead of us here in Toronto, making it just about 4 p.m. there. She must have just left her job at the daycare center.
"Hey Cara, I just needed to hear your beautiful voice. It's been a crappy day.” I tell her everything that has happened this morning. I can tell she wants to jump in, maybe with her own sailor-inspired swearing tirade, but she manages to keep it in.
"So, now I'm just driving around, trying to manifest a new life. So far, all I've found is a coffee shop, so I manifested a tea and donut."
My life might be falling apart, but this apple fritter is absolutely amazing!
"What if you came here for a bit? A little vacation with your favourite sister?" she suggests.
"Yeah, hmm, no,” I grumble. "I have no job, therefore taking a vacation and spending money probably isn't the best choice right now." As lovely as flying over to Sova sounds, I should be an adult about this. Right?
"I hear you, and I understand your point," Cara replies. "But, what if this is exactly the right time to get away? You don't really have any reasons to stay in Toronto at the moment, Harp."
"Gee, thanks for pointing out how pathetic my life is, sis. There's that moral support I was looking for."
"No, look, I'm not trying to make you feel bad. Let's find the positives here, just like Mom would have done".
"Ok, yeah, you're right." I think about my mom. She was an eternal optimist and absolutely would have found a silver lining.
"I don't have a job. I don't have a boyfriend. I packed my belongings and effectively moved out of the house. I have a couple of friends here, but they're mostly couple friends with Levi. I really don't have a reason to stay here right now. Maybe a European getaway will clear my head and help me come up with a new plan. A better plan. A Harper plan. Sunshine, mountains and time with you just might be the right things to soothe my soul. I'll book a hotel for the night and look into flights for later in the week".
"That's better," Cara says before yelling out, "Babe! Can you book Harper a plane ticket here ASAP?"
I can hear some shuffling around and her husband Theo answers, "Sure thing! There's a plane leaving today, can she be at the airport in a couple of hours?”
I am so lucky to call these people family.
Chapter 3 - Harper
I arrive at the airport with four hours to spare before I take off. It gives me some time to repack my suitcase after my hasty departure from the house. Thank goodness I had the foresight to grab my folder of documents, which includes my passport. It would have totally sucked if I had to sneak back into the house to find it.
I don’t want to take too much, so I Marie Kondo-style fold and roll the necessities into my carry-on suitcase. Just the basics. I can do laundry at Cara’s house and buy a few extra shirts while in Sova.
I sigh in relief as I find my beautiful sweatpants. These are the unicorn of sweatpants. Not too thick, not too tight around the ankles. Silky soft. However, the best part about them are the giant pockets! I can easily fit my Kindle in there. I own four pairs, and I am not ashamed about how often I wear them. I grab one of the black pairs, and then fold the other black and a dark grey pair and put them in the suitcase. They are totally necessary for my trip. The blouses and office appropriate dress pants can stay in a crumpled ball in my trunk. Screw business casual, I’ll be living in sweatpants casual!
After filling my carry-on with sweatpants and other casual, comfortable clothes, I add in my makeup, pj’s, a bathing suit, underwear, socks and some bras. Tossing in my chargers, a couple of books and a couple shoe options, I zip it up.
