Page 41 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

The miles ticked by, each one taking me further from Taylor and closer to... what? An empty house? A life filled with everything except the one thing I really wanted?

I shook my head, trying to clear the melancholy thoughts. This wasn’t like me. I was Donovan Willis, for crying out loud. I don’t give up. I don’t back down from a challenge.

I decided. I couldn’t fix this with grand gestures or public declarations. If I wanted any chance with Taylor, I would have to do something I should have done years ago: be honest. No cameras, no audience, just me and her.

Chapter Seventeen

Taylor

Istepped off the elevator, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure it echoed through the resort’s dimly lit hallway. My legs are heavy with a mixture of anxiety and hope. The soft, warm glow of wall sconces created dancing shadows that seemed to mock my nervousness.

When I reached the restaurant’s ornate double doors, I paused. My reflection in the polished brass handles shows a woman on the precipice of something life-changing. I took a deep breath, the scent of fine cuisine and expensive perfume wafting through the air, and pushed open the doors.

But Van was gone.

My eyes frantically swept the room, searching for that familiar face, the tousled hair, the intense gaze that always made mefeel simultaneously safe and unnerved. The elegant dining room, with its crisp white tablecloths and sparkling crystal, suddenly felt vast and empty.

Nothing.

The soft murmur of conversation, the delicate clink of silverware against fine China, the flicker of candlelight casting intimate shadows—it all felt surreal now, like a beautiful dream shattered by harsh reality. How could he just leave?

Disappointment knotted in my chest, heavier than expected, threatening to pull me to my knees in the doorway. He’d come all this way, braved a storm of emotions, and now... he was just gone?

I stood there for a moment, frozen, my emerald dress now feeling like a foolish costume. Diners at nearby tables glanced curiously in my direction, their faces a mixture of pity and mild interest. The maître d’hôtel approached, concern etched on his face, but I barely heard his polite inquiry.

Part of me wanted to run after Van, to tear through the resort, find him, and tell him all the things I hadn’t been able to say earlier. My heart screamed for me to move, act, and do something. But my body refused to cooperate. Indecision weighed on me like a physical force, paralyzing me, and rooting me to the spot where my world had just tilted on its axis.

Finally, as if in a trance, my feet dragged me back through the hallway. The journey to my room felt endless, each step a reminder of my failure.

I collapsed onto the bed, the soft duvet doing nothing to cushion the emotional blow. Staring at the ceiling, I watched as the last rays of sunset painted the room in hues of orange and pink, a beautiful ending to a day that had promised so much and delivered such heartache.

The silence in the room was suffocating, pressing in on me. I needed to talk to anyone before I drove myself crazy. Withoutthinking, I grabbed my phone and called Hunter again. He picked up on the second ring as if he’d been waiting for my call.

“Hey. Did you talk to Van? How did it go?”

I let out a shaky breath, fighting the tears threatening to spill over. “Van was gone. He left.”

“Oh, Taylor, sorry about that. So, what next? Are you coming back?”

I swallowed hard, trying to organize my thoughts. “I don’t know what to do next.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Hunter spoke again, his voice calmer now. “Taylor, you’ve been avoiding this for months. You need to be honest with yourself. What are your true feelings for Van?”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t allowed myself to really think about my feelings for Van—at least, not in a way that made them real. I hesitated, the words caught in my throat, but I knew Hunter wouldn’t let it go. He was determined to protect me, like a dog with a bone.

“When you walked in on us kissing months ago with Pastor Pierce...” I started; my voice was shaky. “We weren’t together. Not in the way you thought. Van only said that to save face, to protect me... and not to upset you.”

The line went quiet. I could almost hear Hunter processing what I’d just told him. His silence felt like an accusation, and I rushed to fill the gap.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you the truth sooner, but everything got complicated. Van and I—“

“So, you’re saying you’ve been pretending this whole time?” He cut in, his voice a mix of disbelief and frustration. “Taylor, I thought you two were going through a rough patch... I thought it was real.”

Guilt swelled in my chest. “It isn’t real, but my feelings for him have been real since we were teenagers.”

I could almost picture Hunter on the other end. His brow furrowed; his jaw tight. “I think Van’s feelings for you are real, too.”

“Are you sure?”

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