by Kathy Myme
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll take you to your room. You look like you could use a rest. We’ve got a lot to talk about, but we’ll deal with it later.”
“My room?”
“You need to sleep, Veronica,” he says sharply. “You look so tired. More tired than I’ve ever seen you.”
I feel it. The constant crying on the plane ride probably didn’t help my complexion… or the temper of the people sitting around me. I’d tried to keep it down, but I feel a little bit bad for them.
Dad takes me to my room. The familiar sight of my childhood bedroom is warm and embracing. Everything is exactly as I left it.
Without even bothering to get changed, I slip under the covers still dressed in my clothes. The heaviness of the blankets and the comforting sight of the room pulls me into sleep at a record speed.
When I wake up, it’s to a knock at the door.
Groggily, I raise my head. “Dad?”
“It’s me,” my Dad confirms. “Sorry about waking you up, but… there’s someone here I thought you’d want to see.”
The door creaks open. I shield my eyes from the light, wondering who on earth I’m meant to be looking at.
I don’t have to wait long.
Lacey is standing in my doorway, taking in the sight of me cocooned under the covers. She looks as gorgeous as ever. A sight for sore eyes if I ever saw one.
“Lacey!” I cry out, shocked. “You’re here.”
“Bet you weren’t expecting me,” she says, smiling. But there’s worry in her eyes too. “Veronica… we have a lot to catch up on.”
“How are you here?”
“Your dad called me after you came back,” she says. “I came straight over. I heard about Trevor on the news, Veronica. It sounds terrible.”
“It was.” My chest tightens.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, he… he didn’t manage to. David stopped him.”
“David? As in, the President?” Lacey asks, sounding just as shocked as she should. “God, girl. You need to fill me in. What’s going on? Am I going crazy or did this engagement come on really quick?”
I take in a deep breath. There’s a lot I need to fill her in on.
And so I tell her everything.
There’s a lot to get through. My internship, bumping into the President, the photographs… It’s a lot to get through. I still haven’t wrapped my head around it myself, not entirely.
“So it’s all a lie?” Lacey looks like her head is about to explode. “Your engagement… it’s all been pretend?”
“Sorry for lying to you,” I say, looking sheepish. “It’s just… I had to. They didn’t give me a choice.”
“This is insane,” Lacey says, running a hand through her hair. “I mean like, literally crazy. I did think something must be up, considering you definitely haven’t been dating anyone but Trevor in the last few years. But wow. This kind of thing can’t happen in real life.”
I’d love to agree, but… this is my life now. Somewhere out there, someone is writing a Wikipedia article with my face on it about my ‘engagement’ to the President.
Oh my god. I probably have a Wikipedia page all to myself.
Remind me never to check that one on Google.
“What are you going to do?” Lacey asks. By now, she’s sitting next to me on the bed, close enough to pat me on the arm. “How are you going to handle this?”
I gesture to my blanket fort. “This is how I’m handling it.”
Lacey stares blankly at me for a second. And then she shakes her head.
“Hell no,” she says.
“Sorry?”
“Veronica, I’ve known you for a long time.” Lacey looks more intense than I’ve ever seen her. “Other people give up. You don’t.” She sighs. “All throughout college, people messed around and flunked classes. You were never like that. Even when there were parties to go to and exciting things happening, you never gave up.”
“I worked hard,” I say glumly, shrugging my shoulders. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Veronica Waters always works to get what she wants,” Lacey says. ”So that’s what you need to figure out.”
“What is?”
“What you want, Veronica.” Lacey squeezes one of my hands. “Figure that out and I’m sure you’ll get your hands on the prize. You always do.”
The room is cold after she leaves. I pull the blankets more tightly around myself, trying to block out the world.
What I want.
What I want…
What do I want?
The answer feels obvious. And yet every shred of pride I have makes me want to put up a fight against the answer. Because it’s not what I want…
It’s who I want.
Whether I like it or not, I have to recognize that I have feelings for David. Feelings I can’t just sweep away.
The idea itself is so silly. How on earth would it ever work between us? Sure, we’re technically ‘engaged’. But the plan has always been for the short term. We’ll stage a break up eventually. Whenever the timing is politically convenient.
So why does it hurt my heart to think about not being with him?
Do I really see a relationship with David Shepard, the President of the United States?
But he’d said it best himself. ‘I don’t do girlfriends’, he’d told me. There’s no room in his life for me.
And what’s more is that he’s made his feelings abundantly clear by shunning me in the way that he has. Maybe I’m falling in love with the President, but it’s certainly not mutual.
Veronica
When my stomach starts to growl, I go downstairs for food. Raiding the fridge is almost a compulsion when I’m back at Dad’s. I think it’s that way for all adult children.
I flinch at a familiar voice when I reach the ground floor.
“-and we commit to building fifty thousand new homes by the end of the year-”
My head snaps to the television. It’s him. I recognize the footage right away. The news is just repeating footage from an old TV interview he did a few weeks ago. I’d watched this one a few times.
But being so close to him despite the distance… it sends a fresh wave of hurt through me. Damn David Shepard. Wherever I go, I can’t escape him.
The TV remote clicks. Dad is sitting in an armchair by the fire.
“Sorry, Veronica,” he says. “I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay,” I say, trying not to think about it. “What time is it?”
“Don’t you mean ‘what day is it’?” he laughs. “You slept for a good fourteen hours, love. It’s the morning.”
I rub my eyes. That means… it’s nearly been a whole day since I left the White House. I wonder what David’s doing. Is he angry?
Does he care at all? Or will he only be upset at the loss of control, at me throwing a wrench into his plans?
“What are your plans for today?” Dad asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, will you just be staying here? Or will you be going back to DC?”
My face falls. “I can’t go back to DC. Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” he says quickly, assuring me. “I was just hoping you hadn’t changed your mind. But my girl has always been strong-willed. Don’t let some man change what’s in your head, especially if he hurt you.”
I’m not sure how my life is going to look from now on. All my dreams for the future were centered around that White House internship. After everything that’s happened, where am I meant to go from here?
“I’m not sure, Dad,” I say softly.
“You’ll find your feet,” he replies. “However long it takes. How about you get some breakfast?”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
I busy myself with preparing blueberries pancakes. Enough for me and a little extra for my dad, who can’t resist a second breakfast.
When I’ve eaten so much that I think I’m going to burst, I lie
down on the couch for an hour scrolling through my phone. There’s still a ton of unopened messages from when people found out about my engagement. And even now, every hour or so I get a message from some news outlet asking to talk to me.
There’s been nothing in the news about me leaving the White House. Whatever David’s doing, I guess he’s keeping things under wraps.
David. The thought of him makes me feel so many different emotions at once. Even despite everything, a part of me wants to be with him right now. To talk to him.
To have his body against mine just like it had been the other evening.
Oh my god, I have to stop thinking about that.
I sit up from the couch suddenly.
“Where are you going?” Dad asks.
“I need to take a walk,” I say, heading for the door. “I’ll be back soon.”
My neighborhood town is a pretty place. A stroll around will probably do me good. And it’s hot enough that I don’t need a coat.
I step out onto the pavement, breathing in the morning air. It’s fresh, just what I needed.
And then my eyes lock eyes with his.
David Shepard, the President of the United States, is waiting in my front yard.
He’s leaning against the fence quietly, waiting in a crisp blue suit. His head tilts upwards as I arrive. The slight breeze ripples through his dark hair, sending strands flying about in a messy manner I’m not used to seeing on him.
On the road outside I see members of the Secret Service dotted around. Guilt pools in my stomach when I see Jackson’s face. I hope he didn’t get into trouble because of my escape.
My jaw is practically on the ground. “David… I…”
I can’t read the expression on his face. Is he angry? Am I about to be yelled at for sneaking away and putting myself in danger again?
Memories of the last time David was mad at me for running off pop into my head. Bad Veronica. This is most definitely not the time.
“Veronica,” he says at last. “I’m happy to see you.”
When he speaks, I realize what’s happening. This isn’t David talking to me. This is the President.
We’re not alone. This is usually a busy road and I’m pretty sure I can make out people starting to stare out of their windows. I’m not sure how long David has been here, but he’s a recognizable man. His face is probably one of the most recognizable faces in the whole country.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” David asks. His eyes flicker to my dad’s house behind me. “Somewhere a bit more private?”
So much for my walk. Thoughts of David aren’t going to be going away any time soon.
If anything, he looks even better than I remember. Seeing him on TV already feels pretty special. The man has an undeniable magnetism. But in person? The full force of David is something to behold. I’m drawn to him helplessly, like a moth to a lightbulb. I couldn’t look away if I tried.
And here I am, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. I’ve been in such a slump that I haven’t even bothered getting changed. I doubt I’m looking my best, and I wish I’d at least had a chance to brush my hair.
“We can go inside,” I tell him, somewhat nervous. Who knows what I’m about to walk into?
None of this feels real. Seeing David in my hometown, standing in my dad’s tiny front yard… It’s like something out of a dream.
It makes me realize, not for the first time, how crazy this all is. How incredibly bizarre it is that I’ve ended up in this situation to begin with. The Veronica Waters that grew up here would never have dreamed of talking to the President of the United States, never mind being (fake) engaged to him.
Never mind the night of mind-blowing, utterly confusing passion we’d spent together.
I gesture for him to follow me, unlocking the door.
“Your friends…” I look at the Secret Service.
“They’ll wait out here,” David confirms. “This is a private conversation.”
My stomach flips. I don’t know if that’s a good sign or a bad one.
When I push open the front door again, I’m forced into a situation that I couldn’t possibly have predicted. David is behind me, but in front of me… is my dad.
He’s still sitting in his chair, but it’s clear he’s sizing up the man behind me. My dad isn’t a particularly big man, but there’s something about him that seems to intimidate other men. Maybe it’s that he’s not afraid to say what he’s thinking.
“Veronica,” my dad says slowly, although he’s not looking at me. “You’re back early from your walk.”
I look sheepish. “I ran into someone on the way.”
Dad clucks his tongue. “So I see. Care to introduce me?”
This is awkward. Obviously Dad knows who David is. Everybody in the entire world knows who David is.
Of course, the perk of having the President with me is that he has bucket loads of charm at any given moment. I’m pretty sure the word ‘awkward’ isn’t in David’s vocabulary.
“Mr Waters, I presume?” David holds out a hand. “My name is David. David Shepard. I believe you’ve probably heard about the relationship between your daughter and I, sir.”
My dad whistles. “Well, it’s not every day you get called ‘sir’ by the President of the United States, I’ll tell you.” His voice drops a notch, getting lower. “But yes. I’ve certainly heard about your relationship. I’ve heard all about it.”
Oh my god. I’d never considered this… I hadn’t ever planned on David and my dad meeting. When Mr Andrews and the President had come up with the fake engagement plan, they’d told me not to tell anyone. But of course I’d told my dad.
My eyes skirt to David. Am I in trouble? But he’s not looking at me, staring straight at my dad like they’re having a showdown at high noon.
“I see,” David says at last. Is that annoyance in his voice? “Then I presume you know about what an excellent job your daughter is doing for this country. She’s sacrificed so much for my presidency. I couldn’t be more grateful.”
“She’s given far more to you than you deserve,” Dad says, “and you let her get attacked by an ex-boyfriend, nearly killed-”
“I take full responsibility for that occurrence,” David says, his voice hard. “Believe me, it won’t happen again. I will do everything I can to make sure your daughter is safe. Always.”
My dad takes that in. I can see him sizing David up. Trying to work out what he wants. Once, Trevor had gone through this. My dad had pretty much scared the living daylights out of him. But David is barely flinching.
“What do you want from my daughter?” my dad asks at last, cutting straight to the point. “Are you here to make her cry again?”
David opens his mouth, ready to put forwards an argument… and then stops. He glances from my dad to me and then back again. “Cry?”
“Dad-” I object.
My father takes no notice. “If you’re here to hurt her again, Mr President, then you’ll have to answer to me. I’m not seeing my daughter upset over you.”
I flush red, aggressively shaking my head. “We’re just going to talk, Dad-”
But David is just as serious as my dad is. “Yes, sir. I promise you that I’m not here to hurt her. That was the last time. Ever.”
My brow furrows. Reading between the lines… What is David trying to say?
Can he be about to end things? To call off our ‘engagement’? Have I finally proved to be more trouble than I’m worth?
“We’re going upstairs now,” I say, nudging David to follow me.
“Are you?” Dad doesn’t look pleased.
“To talk,” I clarify, to ease his discomfort.
Before any further moments of shame can follow, I drag David up the stairs and into my bedroom. But he takes his time observing the surroundings. He looks up and down at the family photographs on the walls, at the pictures of child me beaming up through the frames with wobbly teeth.
When we reach the bedroom, I
close the door. I get the impression I won’t want my dad to hear this particular conversation.
I sigh preemptively. “So, you found me.”
David is quiet for a moment. I sit down upon my bed, looking up at him. What’s running through his head right now?
“I should be angry,” he says at last. “I should be telling you off right now. You ran away and hopped on a plane all the way across the country.”
I brace myself. Here it is. He’s mad at me.
But the last thing I’m expecting is for David to drop to his knees.
“Forgive me, Veronica,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I apologize for everything.”
Shock grips me. The President is… apologizing to me.
“You... what do you mean?”
He shifts his weight from one leg to another. “The way I acted… it was unreasonable. I know that. I know it’s my fault that you left, that you came back here. And I want to explain everything.”
I swallow tightly. “Go on.”
With the speech he’s giving and the undivided attention on me alone, it’s almost like he’s on trial and I’m the judge, jury, and executioner. I wonder if David is thinking the same thing, whether this is reminding him of his lawyer days back before his campaign began.
“The night before last…” David’s expression softens. “It means something to me. It meant something then, and it means something now.”
“You said it was a mistake.” My voice is accusatory.
“It was a mistake,” he says, nodding.
I narrow my eyes. “Then why are you even here?”
“It was a mistake,” he repeats. “But it was the best mistake of my life, Veronica. Apart from this one time a cute intern bumped into me with a coffee she was carrying…”
I stare at him, my eyes almost blank. What is he trying to say?
“Hear me out,” David continues. “All my life, I’ve felt the need to maintain perfect control. Control over everything.”
“Control how?”
“I need to be the one in charge,” he says. I can see he’s struggling to talk about this. Something about it is clearly painful. “I need to be the one making decisions. The master architect behind every plan.”