Page 2 of Resisting Royal

CHAPTER 2

BIANCA

“One more drink, then I have to go home. Peter is waiting for me.” I waved my fingers in the air, indicating I was ready for my next round.

Natalie sighed. “You make Peter sound like he’s your man.”

“He’s the only man I need in my life,” I sighed. It was true, nonstop drama seemed to come with dating, especially when they found out my income was higher than theirs. Men were pansies.

“He’s not a man, he’s a fluffy, furry, rabbit,” she clarified.

“Shhh.” I glared. “You’re going to hurt his feelings.”

“For fuck's sake! And you wonder why it’s been months since you’ve had a man in your bed.” She downed her drink in one gulp, signaling for another.

“Two months, and four days,” I answered.

“I’m sorry, having a sleepover with Martin and Jasper does not count. They are gay, and I doubt either of them had roaming fingers.”

Damn it. She called me out on it. “Okay fine. One year, three months, and twenty-seven days. But really, who the fuck is counting at this point?”

“Oh, honey, you’re practically a nun now. Why are you not walking around in a black robe?” The look of sympathy she gave me was a hundred percent the real thing.

“Because my work coat is white,” I grumbled.

She grunted. “All you do is work.”

I had to—I had no choice. My father kept getting himself into debt, gambling away his income, and taking most of mine just to survive and stay alive. What choice did I have? He was my only family. He raised me and supported me when I needed it, and now it was my turn to return the favor.

“It keeps me busy,” I pointed out.

“It keeps you single,” she countered.

My drink was placed in front of me, and I picked it up, using the giant gulp I took as a momentary distraction. “Look at it this way, If a guy can’t handle my work hours, I’m obviously not meant to hook up with him.”

She fiddled with her napkin. “You’re making excuses.”

“I’m stating facts.”

She groaned. “You’re impossible, maybe you deserve to be single for the rest of your life.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” To be honest, that stung a bit.

“If you value your work life more than your personal life, you get what you get is all I’m saying. Soon you will be a middle-aged cougar scouting after the leftovers or spouse rejects, and all your friends will be happily married.” She picked up the toothpick in her empty glass, fiddling with the olive inside.

“You’re not married,” I pointed out.

“But, I’m engaged.” She held up her ring finger and wiggled it around.

I took another sip of my drink. “Nothing is final until you say I do.”

“If you just jinxed my wedding, I swear I’m replacing you,” she threatened.

“You would never replace me. Who else would willingly walk down the aisle for you with your handsy cousin?” It was a reminder because no one liked her cousin.

“Good point.” Her new drink arrived at the table, and she nearly spilled it in her eagerness to get to it.

We chatted a bit longer until my drink was finished, and the effects of the alcohol wore off. I wasn’t drunk, I never got drunk. But I did have three drinks, and that was more than I usually had. I said my goodbyes, promising we would have another girl’s night soon, then headed home.

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