All I Wanna Do Is You: A Road Trip Rom-Com

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All I Wanna Do Is You: A Road Trip Rom-Com Page 26

by Dylann Crush


  Simon nodded. “My nephew graduated from Stanford and he’s single, too. Lots of choices.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” she groaned. “I’m not part of your campaign, Dad. You can’t use me like a game piece.”

  “Settle down, Reagan. You’re making a scene.” Her dad leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. “We’ll figure out the details when we get back to Chicago.”

  Reagan felt like a pawn as she took her seat at the table again. While her dad and Simon moved from discussing potential fake boyfriends for her to more serious aspects of the campaign, she zoned out. At least Teddy escaped. If she had to be the sacrificial lamb, the one who would cave to her dad’s demands to prove to his constituents that at least one Campbell kid lived within party lines, she’d do it for Teddy. What choice did she have?

  She had tried to buck the system and live life on her terms. Less than four days passed before she caused an avalanche of problems for the rest of the family. She deserved whatever penance came her way.

  By the time she had sipped her way through a cup of coffee, Simon had sketched out a new configuration for their expanded office space. Looked like she’d have a view and an adjoining door to her dad’s huge corner office. The assumption that she’d yield and join her father’s staff was a foregone conclusion. Like always, her dad hadn’t asked her opinion. Better to go along with it and not make any more waves.

  Numb, Reagan excused herself from the table. The sooner she got back to Chicago and put this whole mess behind her, the better off she’d be. Her dad was right. She wasn’t capable of looking out for herself. Zach had flattened her like a steamroller that she’d never seen coming.

  She made it to her bungalow and closed the door behind her. Confronted by the chocolate-smeared sheets, she finally let herself break down. How could she have been so wrong about Zach? What hurt the most was that he’d finally earned her hard-won trust and then crapped all over it. She grabbed a tissue and dried her cheeks then gathered her clothes and personal items and stuffed them into the suitcase she had just been reunited with.

  So much for trying to add a little adventure into her life. She couldn’t make it on her own. Her dad was right. Sticking with him and working for the good of the family would make the best use of her time and talent. It was about time she stopped resisting and signed on. No more tears for Zach. He didn’t deserve them.

  She swiped a tissue from the bathroom counter and dried her cheeks. Much better. Now she appeared to have a massive hangover. With a deep sigh, she slumped into the office chair and logged into her email to compose a letter of resignation to her boss. The fight had seeped out of her as soon as Zach walked out the door.

  Her dad had won. Again.

  Zach climbed aboard the small motorboat that would take him back to the mainland. As the island resort grew smaller and smaller behind him, the hole in his heart grew larger and larger. Who would have leaked the picture? He had definitely taken the shot. But he’d never sent it to anyone. His first thought was that someone must have hacked into his server. But he’d checked with his tech support team, and there hadn’t been a security breach. That meant someone had to have gotten access to the memory card. Maybe Senator Campbell’s staff wasn’t as trustworthy as he believed. Didn’t matter now.

  He turned his face to the sun. Not even the Florida rays could chase away his dark mood. The look on Reagan’s face would haunt him for a long time to come. They’d finally reached a place where he thought they saw a future together. He’d never had that with anyone before. And he didn’t want to give it up, especially not by having it ripped away from him without a choice.

  The boat bounced over the waves as it raced toward the coast. The jarring motion proved he still felt something. From the time Reagan had kicked him out until he climbed into the boat, he’d been numb. That feeling, the sensation of having his heart shredded, was one he’d experienced twice now because of Reagan Campbell. His heart would never be the same.

  Back in high school, when her dad had forced him to break up with her and swear he’d never contact her again, it hadn’t hurt nearly as much. Terrified at the threat of criminal charges and fearful for his dad’s job security, Zach hadn’t felt like he had much of a choice. Now, when he’d finally taken a stand against the man, Reagan’s rejection meant the pain cut deeper.

  He climbed out of the boat as it nudged against the dock and handed the resort employee a wad of bills for borrowing the boat and risking his job. Zach couldn’t spend one more minute on the island, though. Not with Reagan so close and still light years away. He loaded his pack onto his back, wrapped his hand around his duffel, and made his way to the road where he hoped he’d be able to thumb a ride north to where they’d left the rental car. He had a week or so until his next photo shoot. That would give him enough time to move his stuff back to Chicago.

  He couldn’t take Senator Campbell’s money. And with no big payout headed his way, he’d have no choice but to move in with his dad to save some dough. Another few years or so of plugging away and maybe he’d have enough to try to get his own place again.

  As the next wave of cars approached, Zach stuck his thumb out to try to catch a ride. Two cars whizzed by. The third, a late model four-door sedan, slowed and eased to the shoulder. Zach cast one final, longing look at the ocean then opened the door and climbed in, ready to head north to a future he hadn’t counted on...a future without Reagan…a future he didn’t want.

  26

  Reagan held the drink carrier full of coffee in one hand and pushed the door open with the other, leaving the cool air of the coffee shop and heading back out into a blazing hot Pensacola morning. She may as well have jumped in the ocean based on the river of sweat running down her back. Thinking of the ocean only made her think of Zach.

  It had been three months since she’d kicked him out of her bungalow. Not a day went by that she didn’t miss his easy smile, the way his whiskers scraped across her face when he kissed her, and how it felt to wake up beside him. Her heart still ached at his betrayal, but as time dulled her anger, the good times they’d spent together filtered through.

  Being back in Florida didn’t help. She balanced the coffee tray as she entered the hotel where her dad had set up shop—across the street from the arena where his party’s National Convention had been going on for the past three days.

  Reagan used to manage a whole division. Now she fetched coffee and sent out fluffed-up press releases about her father’s good deeds to keep him in a positive limelight. His running mate had secured the party nomination a few weeks ago, and they’d be accepting the official nomination later that night.

  She knocked on the door to the suite where Senator Campbell had been holding court. No answer. She slipped her hand into her bag and felt around for the credit-card style key. When the lock clicked open, she pushed the door with her hip. The large living room had been converted into a makeshift office space with laptops, printers, and monitors covering almost every horizontal surface. CNN, local news, and MSNBC played on the three television sets, but the slew of staffers had vanished. Where had everyone gone?

  Reagan set the tray on the counter and moved down the hall toward the bedrooms. She had taken up residence in the smaller bedroom and her parents shared the spacious master bedroom across the hall.

  “Dad?”

  Her mother went out to flex her dad’s platinum credit card, so Reagan figured it would be hours before she returned. But where could her dad be?

  As she passed her parents’ bedroom, muffled voices floated through the cracked doorway. Pausing, Reagan cocked her head to make out who might be talking. And why the need for privacy? It’s not like she hadn’t been involved in every step of the campaign along the way.

  “I gotta say, I thought that stunt would blow up in your face.” Reagan didn’t recognize the gruff tone—couldn’t be one of the staffers she’d come to know over the past three months.

  “Told yo
u to trust me. I’ve been at this game a long time, and I know how to play it,” another voice answered, this one somewhat familiar, his tone calm and cool.

  Was that Simon? She was almost sure. But what would Simon be doing in her mom and dad’s bedroom? Reagan crept closer to the door.

  “Leaking that picture was a risky move. You could have alienated half your voters.”

  What picture? There hadn’t been any bad publicity in the past several weeks. Probably another one of her dad’s little pet projects. The election couldn’t come soon enough. Part of her wanted her dad to realize his highest aspiration. Serving in the White House would be the pinnacle of his career.

  But another part of her wished he’d drop out or lose. She didn’t have the heart for a career in politics, even if she did get to hide in the background and do the grunt work most of the time. She had turned back toward the living room when her dad’s voice made her pause mid-step.

  “Ever hear anything from the Anderson kid?”

  The smell of cigarette smoke floated into the hall. “Nah. As far as I know he’s out of the biz.”

  Zach? Why would her dad be talking about Zach? An icy cold ball formed in her gut. A picture and Zach. They had to be talking about the wedding picture Zach had sold to the press. She hovered by the door, willing someone to say something else.

  Her dad cleared his throat. “Good, that’s real good. Well, John, as usual, it’s been a pleasure working with you and finally getting to meet you in person. Let me know if you get anything worth looking at over the next several months.”

  Footsteps approached the door. Reagan plastered herself against the wall. What was her dad up to? She tried to move toward the living room, but her feet wouldn’t obey. The crack in the door widened and a thin, gangly man exited the room in a cloud of smoke, followed by Simon.

  Reagan coughed.

  “Well, hi there, sweetheart,” the stranger said.

  “Reagan. When did you get back?” Her dad’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting to see her eavesdropping outside his bedroom.

  “Dad, who’s this?” She tried to keep her voice steady, but a tremor ran through it. Why were they talking about Zach?

  “John Scazzoli, pleased to meet you.” The guy thrust a hand toward her midsection. She instinctively grasped it.

  “Are you a friend of Zach Anderson’s?” she asked.

  Scazzoli raised an eyebrow and glanced at her father, then Simon. “I wouldn’t exactly say that. More like an acquaintance.”

  Her father cleared his throat. “John was just leaving.”

  “Why were you talking about Zach?” Reagan pressed.

  “I’ll show myself out,” John said. “Pleasure doing business with you.” With a nod to her dad, he strode down the hall to the door.

  “Dad?”

  “I’ll step out for a minute,” Simon said, excusing himself from the room.

  Her dad stepped around her and moved toward the living room. “Did you make the final changes on my speech for tonight?”

  Reagan followed him and wrapped her hand around his arm. “Dad, stop.”

  “Come on, lambchop. You’re wrinkling my shirt.”

  She squeezed harder. “Why were you talking about Zach?”

  “It’s nothing. That’s all in the past.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Dammit, Reagan.” He peeled her fingers off his arm. “Now I’ve got to change before I head to lunch.”

  Hot, angry tears welled in the corners of her eyes. “What did you do?”

  Her dad began unbuttoning his crisp, white oxford, revealing a starched undershirt underneath. “I did you both a favor.”

  The icy blob in her chest seeped through her veins. Something wasn’t right, and somehow her father had been involved. Reagan grabbed a stack of papers from the fax machine. “No more secrets. Tell me what happened with Zach, or I’ll shred your stupid speech.”

  “What’s got you all riled up? Go ahead, rip it up. It’s still on the computer.” He slipped his arms out of his shirt and crumpled it up into a ball. “Now simmer down and go get me a fresh shirt from the closet, please. Then we can talk about all of this nonsense.”

  Swallowing down the acid rising in her throat, Reagan walked over to the laptop she’d been working on earlier and located the file of her dad’s speech. She’d spent the better part of the past week working on it with another member of his staff. Her finger hesitated over the left button on the mouse then she highlighted the file. As she took in a deep breath through her nose, her finger pressed delete.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled.

  She held the papers up between her hands. “Still want me to shred it?”

  He combed his fingers through his hair. “Give me the speech. Don’t do something you can’t take back.”

  “Like leaking a picture of Teddy and Cal’s wedding to the paper then blaming an innocent person?”

  “I didn’t leak the picture.”

  Her heart stalled for a moment, weightless in her chest. “What do you mean?” Could she have possibly misunderstood?

  “For Christ’s sake, Reagan. Simon did it.” Her dad closed his eyes and shook his head. “Thought he was helping me out. Seems having a gay son getting married was the lesser of two evils. The press was about to leak a story about me having an affair. Liars and sonsofbitches—all of them! It turned out okay, though. I even went up in a few polls. And Anderson got paid for taking the wedding pictures, anyway. You should have seen the amount on that check I wrote him. Stupid punk tore it up. Can you believe that?”

  Tears overflowed onto her cheeks and the vision of her dad went blurry. “How long have you known?”

  “Known what?”

  She clenched her jaw and spoke through gritted teeth. “When did you know it was Simon and not Zach who leaked the picture?”

  “What difference does it make? He’s not good enough for you. Never has been and never will be.” Her father paced the length of the living room.

  “When?” she growled.

  “Why is this such a big deal?”

  “Please, Dad?” She didn’t want to beg but she needed to know. If Zach had been telling her the truth and she turned him away… she couldn’t bear to think about it.

  “Simon told me the day after the wedding.” His shoulders slumped. “After you stormed off, and Anderson hightailed it out of there.”

  Reagan buried her face in her hands to prevent the ugly cry she felt coming on. “And all this time? You let me think Zach leaked the photo?”

  Her question went unanswered. The lack of reply provided all the response she needed. “You used him. And you lied to me.”

  Her dad groaned. “You, of all people, should know politics isn’t for the faint of heart. Hard decisions must be made. Sacrifices for the good of the party. Now hand over my speech before you do something you’ll regret.”

  She gulped in a mouthful of air. The tightness in her chest eased a bit as she realized what this meant. “The only thing I regret is putting you first for so long. I used to think you were in it for the people, to make a difference, to help those in need. But I’ve learned you’ll do anything or step on anyone you have to to get ahead.”

  “You’re angry. It’s been a long road for all of us. Give me the papers. We’ll take a nice long breath and—”

  Her bark of sharp laughter put a quick end to his flimsy attempt at glossing over the situation. “Forget it. I can’t be a part of this anymore, Dad. I quit.”

  He rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Stop the drama, kiddo. We’ve got a long night ahead of us. How about some fresh air?” He moved to the balcony and slid open the glass door.

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Reagan followed him onto the spacious outdoor patio and crumpled the papers into a wad.

  “What are you doing? Reagan, please.”

  Her dad reached for the speech and Reagan fumbled with it before tossing the bundle over the edge of the railing.
For a moment, both she and her father stood stunned into silence, watching the paper wad gather momentum as it barreled toward the pavement thirty stories below.

  “Now you’ve done it.”

  The sight of her father standing on the balcony in his undershirt, hair rumpled, anger blazing in his eyes, should have catapulted her into motion. It didn’t. Reagan calmly walked back into the living room, down the hall, and into her bedroom. She threw a few items into an oversized bag then peeked out into the hall to make sure the coast was clear. Her dad yelled into the phone at some poor staffer, demanding they rally the team to search for his speech on the street. Reagan slipped out of the room, past her father, and into the hall.

  What in the world had she done? Her heart thumped, the boom, boom, boom drowning out the elevator music on her way to the first floor. The revolving door spit her out into the Florida heat. Her lungs tightened to the point that she strained to take in a breath. Pausing on the sidewalk, she put her hands to her knees.

  Slow down. First things first. Find Zach.

  She’d been so wrong about him. She’d let her dad trick her into believing the worst. Her throat burned as she remembered Zach’s face the last time she’d seen him.

  Don’t do this to yourself. Find Zach. Make it right.

  She pulled out her phone and tapped to arrange for a ride share. If she could get to the airport, she’d figure out where to go.

  A few minutes later the driver stopped at the curb and loaded her half-zipped suitcase into the trunk. “To the airport?”

  “That’s right.” Reagan slid into the backseat, squelched the wave of panic threatening to overwhelm her at the thought of getting on a plane, and opened up a browser on her phone.

  As the car inched away from the curb, she typed Zach’s name into the search window. It’s not like she could call him and ask if he’d like to get together to split a plate of nachos. Maybe she could track him down via the world wide web. He was probably at his place in California. Or maybe visiting his dad in Chicago. Or maybe, just maybe, he was on a job right here on the west coast of Florida. Then she’d have to rent a car. No cross-country flights.

 

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