Page 34 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

“Amelia! Hi!” I responded, genuinely relieved by the interruption. I stood to hug her, realizing it had been years since we’d last seen each other or even spoken.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, reaching for a chair.

“Please do,” I replied sincerely. After everything that had happened, I was truly grateful to see a friendly, familiar face.

We fell into simple conversation, catching up on years of lost time. Amelia had become a successful hospitality manager, while I filled her in on my job as a physical therapist at Fredrickson’s Therapy.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” Amelia asked, stirring her cappuccino.

I hesitated, unsure how to answer. “It’s... complicated,” I admitted.

Something in my expression must have given me away, because Amelia’s brow furrowed with concern. “Taylor, is everything okay? You seem... torn about something.”

I sighed, debating how much to share.

“My ex-fiancé is in town,” I began.

Then I poured out the entire story - the broken engagement, my leave of absence from work, his sudden appearance in Coleman asking for us to get back together while intentionally leaving out any mention of his drug addiction.

Amelia listened attentively, her face a mix of sympathy and concern. When I finished, she reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “Oh, Taylor. That sounds incredibly difficult. But you know what? I think you need a break from all this drama.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on me.

“You know...” A grin spread across her face as if she’d just solved a puzzle. “Our resort has the most incredible sunsets. The kind that makes you forget everything else exists.” She clasped her hands together. “Why don’t you come stay for a week? My treat.”

I must have looked hesitant because she quickly added, “I’m running the place now, honestly?” Her voice softened. “The way your shoulders are practically touching your ears? You look like someone who needs to watch a few sunsets.”

The gentle concern in her eyes made my carefully constructed walls waver, just a little. “I don’t know, Amelia. I have a lot to deal with, and-”

“And nothing,” she interrupted with a grin. “When was the last time you took a proper vacation? Come on, it’ll be fun. Just like old times.”

As I was about to respond, the café door burst open.

The quiet atmosphere shattered as Ellie entered, trailing chaos in her wake. Camera flashes strobed the room while reporters jostled each other, their questions blending into an incomprehensible roar. She glided through it all with practiced ease, her swimwear model’s poise on full display.

My coffee cup clinked against its saucer as my hands trembled. Ellie’s path brought her closer, her perfume cutting through the air between us. She offered Amelia a practiced smile and slight nod, but her eyes skated over me as if I were part of the café‘s furniture. As she passed, my space seemed to shrink, leaving mehunched over the table, suddenly aware of every imperfection in my casual outfit and makeup-free face.

Amelia’s eyes widened as she watched Ellie reach the counter. “Wow, I can’t believe Ellie Parsons is here,” she whispered, leaning in close. “Do you know her, Taylor?”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice casual. “Know her? Not really. I mean, I know who she is, of course.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “There’s a story there. Spill.”

I hesitated, then decided I might as well tell her. “Remember Van? From high school?”

Amelia’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Van Willis? The guy you had a massive crush on? Hunter’s best friend?”

I nodded, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “That’s the one. Well, Ellie... she’s his ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Amelia said, realization dawning on her face. “And let me guess, those old feelings for Van never really disappeared?”

I sighed, staring into my coffee. “Is it that obvious?”

Amelia laughed softly. “Only to someone who remembers how you used to look at him in high school. So, what’s the deal now? Are you and Van...?”

“Not really,” I exclaimed. “We’re just friends. Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“You keep saying that,” Amelia observed. “Sounds like you need that getaway. Clear your head, figure out what you want.”

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