her lips.
And I said out loud what we were probably both thinking. “That sounds controlling AF!”
“Yeah,” Billie agreed. “Are you sure this guy is a match for you, Gina?”
“C’mon guys, I was just making a little joke,” Gina said with an exasperated shake of her blond mane. “He’s great. He buys me presents and he can be so sweet. It doesn’t matter if sometimes he gets jealous.”
“It doesn’t?” I sucked on my teeth, because, “If a guy tried to catch salt like that with me, I’d be like deuces.”
“Or if he ate off-brand Little Debbie Oatmeal Crème Pies,” Gina replied, throwing me an exasperated look.
Okay, that had actually happened a few months ago. An EMT I was dating tried to offer me one of those foul Mrs. Freshley Oatmeal Crème Cookies the morning after first sex. There was no second sex. “I mean those things are just gross.”
“How about the murse you dumped because he said ER was better than Grey’s Anatomy?”
“Shonda’s show is clearly superior!” I shot back.
“Remember the vegan?” Billie asked, jumping on Gina’s bandwagon.
“That is a very aggressive decision to make in St. Louis,” I answered, my voice whiny and defensive. “And it made it so hard to eat.”
“Then why did you dump that perfectly nice firefighter who ate too much meat?” Gina asked.
“Who only eats at steak houses?” I asked back.
“Ooh! Ooh! Remember the lawyer she ghosted because he didn’t vote for the right judge?” Billie asked Gina.
Gina’s eyes flare comically. “I forgot about that one! Like president or governor, I can understand. Maybe even the mayor. But who stops dating someone because of what judge they voted for in the election?”
“If he’d voted right, a Black woman would have had a chance of making it onto the Missouri Supreme court!” I insisted.
Gina shrugged and shook her head at me like she was trying hard not to laugh. “I’m just saying my standards and your standards are on two different levels and I’m fine with that. Because my level isn’t located in Crazytown. I mean how many guys have you been through in the last year?”
I rolled my eyes. And this time it was definitely aimed at my two friends. “Twelve. I’m not tracking it or anything.”
“Twelve, seriously?” Billie asked, her eyes huge. “That’s a lot.”
“Okay, thank you, math whiz,” I answered. “Yes, you should definitely go to accounting school.”
“Ooh, will The Fine Prince be lucky number thirteen?” Gina asked.
“In what universe is thirteen lucky?” I asked my overly optimistic friend. “And no he won’t. Yeah, he’s stupid hot and has an English accent, but he’s totally stuck up. He barely ever looks at me, even when we’re face to face, talking about a patient. From what I’ve seen, he only flirts with White girls. So even if I wanted to date him—which I wouldn’t, given the aforementioned lack of diversity in his flirt game—he probably wouldn’t be into dating me.”
“He has an English accent?” Billie and Gina ask in unison.
Apparently, that was all they heard.
“And he only likes White girls. Did you not hear that part?”
“Perhaps not, but I did,” a voice said behind me. A voice with an extremely sexy English accent.
I froze, my entire body flooding with shocked embarrassment.
“Oh, no! Is that him?” Billie whispered, covering her face with both hands. “Did he hear everything you just said?”
“Hold the phone up so that we can see if he deserves that nickname,” Gina demanded, her voice also hushed.
“I’m going to have to call you back,” I answered before killing the FaceTime call.
Remembering all my pageant training, I crooked of my head and pasted on a dazzling smile before turning around. “Hey, Dr. Prince. How are you?”
“I’ve been better,” he answered, not returning my smile. His expression was serious and tight as he lifted his arm. “I came upon this ancient relic while checking on Dr. Rhajeen’s patient in bed two. It requires translation.”
I almost laughed when he held up a clipboard with a paper chart. But I tamped down amusement to inform him, “I can’t read Dr. Rhajeen’s handwriting either.”
“Yet, you let him chart on paper, which he’s apparently saved from last decade.”
I shrugged, some of my embarrassment at being caught talking about him fading away. Maybe he’d only heard that last line and had no clue I was talking about him. “Not my fault he refuses to use the electronic system.”
“Many of the other RNs make separate electronic charts for him in order to make the lives of the doctors who have the