Riley nodded absently. “You want to hang out for awhile, or should we head back to the hotel?”
“Let’s head back,” Shawn said. He turned to Brendan who held his hands up.
“Don’t look at me. It took me twenty minutes to find a place to park,” Brendan said. “I’m here for as long as it takes to make it worth my while.”
Shawn shook his head, looking in Tracy’s direction. “You’re wasting your time, man.”
“What are we talking about?” Riley asked.
“Nothing,” Brendan said. “I’ll see you two later.”
Shawn looked down at Riley. She still looked tense.
“Let’s get a cab back uptown,” he said.
The ride was made in silence, and even when they pulled up in front of the Four Seasons and got out, Riley was pensive. Shawn tried but could not read her face.
In the elevator she stood apart from him and once on their floor, she walked ahead as though she was alone. It was only at the door to the suite that she turned to look at him again. Her eyes were tired, and troubled. Shawn felt the beginnings of a thread of emotion pretty close to dread begin to snake through him.
Was she having second thoughts?
Riley headed straight for the bathroom and Shawn could hear her turn on the shower. She emerged moments later and began stripping off her clothes.
“Are you coming?” she asked impatiently, before disappearing into the bathroom once again.
Shawn undressed and followed her. She was already standing under one of the jets, head back, eyes closed, allowing the water to course over her face. Shawn stepped into the shower behind her, wrapping his arms about her waist. She leaned back into him and he felt the tension leave her shoulders. She tilted her head backward and he leaned in to kiss her. Riley turned to face him, deepening the kiss, pulling him closer.
Shawn pulled her from beneath the stream of water, uncomfortable suddenly that he didn’t know what had motivated the kiss.
“Hey,” he said, tipping her head up so she would look at him. “What’s going on?”
“I really hurt him, Shawn,” she said, and her lower lip was trembling.
He didn’t know what to say to that. If she hadn’t hurt Brian, she wouldn’t be here. If she hadn’t hurt Brian, she would have hurt him. And so he couldn’t pretend to be sorry that things had gone down the way they had.
“I mean, I knew I had. But I didn’t know how much. And the worst part is I don’t know that it would have made a difference even if I had known.”
There. That was what he needed to hear her to say.
After their shower, Riley’s mood was not even marginally improved. Instead of dressing, she pulled the plush white hotel bathrobe about her and curled into one of the armchairs, reaching for the remote and switching on the television. Shawn pretended not to watch her as he pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Something occurred to him, an unanswered question that he knew before he spoke should probably remain that way, for both their sakes.
“So how did Brian wind up at the café anyway?”
Riley turned to look at him, her face expressionless.
“I called him,” she said.
“Why?” The question was out as soon as he thought it.
Riley turned in her seat now, sitting up straighter and pulling her feet up beneath her.
“I’ve been thinking about him,” she said, as though it was obvious.
“You’ve been thinking about him,” Shawn repeated. He swallowed, forcing back the rush of anger.
“How could I not?” she asked, her voice low. “After what I did.”
“Because he’s your friend,” Shawn said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Right?”
“Yes. He is.”
“Still?”
“Honestly, that’s what I wanted to find out,” Riley said looking him directly in the eye.
This, he hated – and loved – about her. She didn’t mince words or beat around the bush on anything, and wasn’t going to sugarcoat it for him if what she wanted was to have Brian in her life.
“And?”
“He’s still . . . smarting a little bit, but yes, I think we’ll make it through this and . . .”
Before she even finished her sentence, Shawn was shaking his head. “Nah. I’m not going for that,” he said.
“What does that mean?” she asked. Her voice was taut. “I don’t even see what this has to do with you.”
“You don’t?” His voice rose. “So you think I’m going to let you go hang out, have drinks, dinner and go to fucking poetry readings with this dude? Knowing that you and him used to . . .”
Shawn paced the floor, feeling himself wound up with an uncomfortable energy for which he had no outlet. He couldn’t remember ever having been angry enough to want to punch through a wall before, but now he could see the appeal. He visualized himself picking up a chair and just fucking slinging it across the room.
“Used to,” Riley said. “Exactly.”
“You’re going to be my wife,” Shawn said, as though it was his trump card. “And I’m not having that.”
Riley’s eyes widened in horror. “Wow. So what, you’re going to forbid it?”
Shawn thought about Tracy’s words, about Riley not being the kind of woman he could “hem up.” He bit down on his lower lip, conflicted.
“What you’re telling me is that all you did is switch us up,” he said. “Brian on the outside, and me on the in. Now I get to be the dumb motherfucker at home while you run all over town with him?”
At that, Riley shoved herself up off the armchair and headed for the dresser. Without another word, she began pulling her clothing out. Then she went to the closet and found her duffle.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” she said.
“Did he kiss you tonight?” Shawn demanded.
She paused for a moment and turned to look at him, incredulous, before shaking her head and resuming her packing.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, did he?”
“Yes, Shawn. As a matter of fact, he did. On the cheek,” she finally said, exasperated. “Like a friend would.”
“Well, we both know your definition of friendship is a little flexible,” Shawn continued.
“I am not doing this,” she said, her voice quiet again. “I’m not.”
“Not doing what?” Shawn demanded. He grabbed her arm and spun her to face him.
“Any of it!” she snapped, wrenching free.
Powerlessness was not something he was accustomed to feeling, but he felt it now. With her back to him, Riley continued packing, tossing her clothing haphazardly into the duffle bag. Knowing that he couldn’t just sit there and watch her leave, he did the only thing he could do – he pulled on his boots and left before she did.
g
A blast of staggeringly hot air assaulted her as soon as Riley unlocked the door to her apartment. It had been more than a week since she’d been back. Playing house with Shawn in the Four Seasons had made her forget just how rustic her place was.
Shedding her coat, she dumped her duffle on the sofa and went straightaway to the kitchen. There was a bottle of red wine somewhere in there with her name on it. If she wasn’t mistaken, she had one bottle of merlot left from that case she and Peter had sweet-talked their way into getting after the last year’s Christmas party. It might taste like vinegar by now, but she didn’t care. She didn’t need it for the taste; she needed its intoxicating effect.
It had been a shit day that had turned into an even shittier evening. Funny but it hadn’t started that way. Shawn had woken early that morning for a business meeting, so they’d had breakfast together in the suite, sitting at the little dining table, watching television and talking about not much of anything like an old married couple. Riley had even allowed herself to imagine what it would be like when they really were married.
But
it was only downhill from there. When she got to the magazine, there was package on her chair, delivered by messenger. Brian had neatly packed up every item of clothing she had left in his apartment, every book, every sock, and every scrap of every tiny thing that belonged to her and sent them back to their rightful owner. Inside was a note: I believe these belong to you. And that was all. He didn’t even sign his name.
For the rest of the day, she could think of nothing else besides the look on his face when she’d confessed everything about Shawn; the disbelief, followed by shock, anger and finally, the hurt. What she hadn’t felt then, suddenly assailed her – regret and even a fair amount of shame. She’d discarded Brian like yesterday’s newspaper because she was desperate not to lose Shawn. And now that she and Shawn were together and it was exactly as she’d hoped it might be, she was surprised to be plagued so frequently with thoughts of Brian and how he was doing.
Had he gone to school the day they broke up? How were things going with law review? She worried about him but not because she regretted choosing Shawn, because honestly, it hadn’t even felt like a choice. It had been more like a certainty, a force that she could do nothing to stop, or change, or even slow down. No, she worried about Brian because quite simply, he was her friend and she loved him as a friend. She wanted to hear about his life and know that he was okay. And here she was, looking at a box of her personal effects that he hadn’t wanted to keep but had too much respect for her to toss out.
That was when she knew she had to call him.
He was reserved on the phone but agreed to meet her at Harambe and she was grateful. She couldn’t move forward without this.
When he walked in, Riley was with Tracy sitting at a table near the stage. The sight of him made her spirits lift and she realized that she’d missed him. Brian used to be her every day, when Shawn had been her once-in-awhile. It hurt when he returned her hug with a stiff embrace.
I’m here he’d said simply.
Thank you, she said.
What had followed had been a difficult conversation. She’d answered all his questions, telling him about the first night she met Shawn, and how she’d spent the night, how she was drawn back to him over and over again despite telling herself that it was wrong, that he was wrong for her.
So all the time with me, were you pretending? he asked.
She’d been emphatic that she wasn’t. She loved him, she told him. But just not in the same way she loved Shawn.
If you needed me to come here to make you feel better, then I’m happy to do that for you, Riley, he said finally. I mean it. If he makes you feel the way you say he does, then I’m glad I can make you feel okay about what happened with us. But don’t expect me to be okay. At least not for awhile.
That was the moment when she realized that even asking him to come speak to her had been an act of selfishness. She needed him to tell her it was okay for her to be happy, even if he was miserable, and ever generous, he had done exactly that.
Riley found the bottle of red she’d been searching for and opened it, pouring a generous glass and settling on the sofa.
She hadn’t even had a minute to process her conversation with Brian before Tracy showed up to announce that Shawn was there. And when she saw him, he was looking at her with that intense expression she had become so familiar with, his eyes searching her face for some sign or reassurance that she was still with him, and just him.
It was only over these last couple of weeks since she’d accepted his proposal that Riley had begun to realize what an act of sheer will it must have been for him to tolerate her being with Brian. It just hadn’t made sense before – it caused all kinds cognitive dissonance to look at the confident man he was – the man that countless other women would do anything to be with – and even begin to consider that where she was concerned, he might not feel completely sure of himself.
Now that they spent more time out together, Riley saw firsthand how he reacted when other men noticed her. His eyes narrowed, his jaw became set and rigid and he became distinctly morose. Last week in a Dominican restaurant uptown they’d been served by a waiter who Shawn was convinced was being overly attentive to her.
You know that kid? he’d demanded.
And when Riley said she didn’t he’d become even more agitated.
Then why is he all up in your grill?
It was a very short meal after that.
So of course, tonight she had been happy to get him as far away from Harambe as possible, as quickly as possible. But even back in the hotel suite, he couldn’t let it go. She wanted to talk about it in her own way, in her own time and all Shawn could see was whether it affected him, and how it affected him. And when he tried to pull rank on her as The Fiancée, she had a panicky moment, thinking about Lorna’s words. Riley could almost feel herself beginning to disappear, her will replaced by Shawn’s, her judgment usurped by his, just because he was going to be her husband and just because her impulse was to please him, always.
That was the scariest part, the part that made her run back to her apartment – she almost always wanted to do what Shawn wanted, just because it was what Shawn wanted. Was that what would happen to her if they were married? Was that the woman she would become?
She’d overreacted of course, when he said he wasn’t “having it” for her to be friends with Brian.
What did she expect him to say? Wouldn’t any man have said the same thing?
Remembering now that she even implied that she wanted to break off the engagement, Riley took a gulp of her wine and with it swallowed the rush of panic.
What if he believed she meant it? What if he believed her and just let her go?
She reached for the bottle and gave herself a refill. No. She would not even contemplate that.
Over the next hour, she consumed the entire bottle and succumbed to a boozy, fitful exhaustion, hugging one of the sofa cushions and drifting off to sleep. She awoke at one-fifteen a.m., surprised that the phone had not rung. Checking her cell phone, she saw that there were no text messages either. Feeling a surge of self-pity, and a little scared that Shawn had taken her at her word after all, she cried a little and was asleep again within minutes.
Her bladder was what woke her up later. The digital clock, which she glimpsed on the way to the bathroom, read four thirteen in the morning. Still no phone call? She heaved a deep sigh as she relieved herself. She would have to call him. If he wanted her to stay away from Brian, she would try. She would tell him that she was willing to give up Brian for him, or at least curtail the friendship. If there had ever been any doubt before, now she knew that Shawn had her, hook, line and sinker. It hadn’t even been one night, and already she was panicking, how pathetic was that?
Tomorrow, when she wasn’t quite as drunk, she would call him and say she was sorry for being such a brat. Or better yet, she would sleep off the wine for a couple more hours and then just go back to the hotel and crawl into bed with him. She still had her key card, and in person, Shawn could not say no to her. Of that she was certain. So that’s what she would do, later. She would . . .
An insistent pounding on the front door startled her and Riley’s heart hammered in her chest. She glanced quickly in the bathroom mirror and headed for the door.
Please, she thought. Please, please.
When she opened it, relief flooded through her. Shawn was standing there wearing the same sweatpants and t-shirt he’d been wearing earlier with his boots unlaced, the tongues hanging out. His brown leather jacket looked as though it had been hastily shrugged on. Neither of them said anything. His eyes were bleary and red. He’d either been doing just as much drinking as she had, or was dog-tired. Riley would have been pleased with either of those options, because it meant he’d been as miserable as she was all evening.
“Okay,” he said, breathing a deep sigh.
Riley wrinkled her brow. “Okay, what?”
“Brian is your friend. I guess I just have to try to deal with that.”
&nbs
p; She blinked, surprised. “You just have to deal with . . .”
“I know.” He took a step inside and shut the door behind him. “It’s not up to me to give you permission or anything. You have the right to be friends with anyone you want to be friends with.”
He had been drinking. And he sounded steady, but he wasn’t. The more he tried to stand still, the more he swayed.
“So, are we cool?” he asked.
“You don’t care if I’m friends with Brian,” she confirmed.
Shawn gave a short laugh. “Fuck yeah, I care. But I’ll try to deal with it. That’s all I can promise to do, Riley.”
“If I am friends with Brian, it would be nothing like it was before, Shawn,” she said. “You wouldn’t be . . . sharing me.”
He nodded. “I know.” His eyes did not leave hers.
Riley reached out and touched his chest, tentatively, still not sure how he was feeling about her at the moment. Just because he didn’t want to lose her, didn’t mean he wasn’t still angry or doubtful. And yet, this, what he was saying here was almost total surrender. Something that was so unlike him she could scarcely believe it was happening. It rocked her to know that he wanted her that much. It made her . . . horny.
She touched him more confidently now, lowering her hand, and putting it beneath his shirt, feeling his skin, warm and smooth. His reaction was subtle but immediate. She could feel him hold his breath for just a moment, and then he exhaled through his nose, his nostrils flaring slightly. He leaned in to kiss her, and Riley lifted her face to meet him.
It was not a gentle kiss; it was a crashing together of mouths, like the crashing together of their equally strong wills. It felt almost competitive, Shawn’s tongue in her mouth, dominating her own. He pulled her against him, one hand at the nape of her neck and the other at the small of her back. Riley felt every part of her come wide awake and soon she was tugging at his shirt, forcing him to pull away from her to take it off.
Then they were kissing again, moving clumsily backward toward her bedroom until Shawn put his hands down under her buttocks and without removing his lips from hers, lifted her up so she could wrap her legs about his hips. His erection pressed against her in precisely the right place, but they were, maddeningly, still separated by clothing.
Commitment Page 15