“Now. On a personal level,” Greg said briskly. “Is there anything at all I can do?”
“Thank you, no. I think we’ve got it covered for the moment.”
“Yes, of course. Your husband can afford the best of everything I’m sure,” he said dryly. “But what I meant was, is there anything I can do for you, Riley?”
She could tell from the tight controlled tone that he was angry at Shawn. And instead of feeling defensive or insulted, the way she generally would, she was instead very, very touched. Greg felt protective of her, she realized. Perhaps he even felt responsible, having been the one to send her on that fateful assignment what now seemed like a lifetime ago.
“I’m okay,” she said trying to sound reassuring. “I’m going to stay with my mother for a little while.”
“Good,” he nodded. “I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of there.”
This time she did feel defensive.
“Greg,” she said on an impulse. “Shawn is a much better man than this situation would suggest.”
“Well then I hope you both weather this,” he said without missing a beat, but it was obvious she hadn’t penetrated his doubt one iota.
“We will,” she said, standing.
Greg stood as well and pressed a hand on her shoulder. “Be well, Riley.”
She took a few items from her office and called Shawn to let him know she was leaving for home. She must have sounded completely depleted because he told her to stay put and wait for a car he would send. The car and driver that showed up were completely unfamiliar to her and as she slid into the backseat and into the care of this unnamed stranger, it underscored just how much her life had changed. All of the fears that caused her panic attack many months ago when she and Tracy first looked at the condo had been realized in spades. She was living Shawn’s life now, and had left yet another huge part of her own behind.
The driver took her around to the freight entrance without her asking, probably on instructions from Shawn. Riley thanked him as she got out, and noticed that he waited until she was safely in the building before pulling away. Upstairs, Shawn was waiting for her alone. She looked around before joining him on the sofa, almost expecting that Brendan or Doug, Robyn or Chris would materialize. They’d spent very little time alone since last week.
“How was it?” he asked.
Riley shrugged. “Piece of cake,” she smiled.
Shawn tried to smile back at her, and took her hands in his.
“When this is over . . .” he began.
“Let’s wait till then to talk about that,” Riley interrupted. “I’d better get some stuff for Lorna’s.”
She pulled her hands free of his and went into the bedroom to pack. Tracy called while she was in the thick of it and offered to drop by to help.
“In the middle of the work day?” Riley asked. “No. That’s alright. I’ll call you later.”
“Give me something to do,” Tracy said. “I feel awful. I know going into that office had to have been difficult.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” Riley lied. “And my conversation with Greg lasted all of ten minutes. He gave me twelve weeks leave.”
“That’s pretty generous.”
“Well, he feels sorry for me. They all do,” she said ruefully.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel . . . a little pissed off again to be honest,” Riley said quietly. She could hear Shawn moving around in the kitchen.
“Naturally. Your work. It’s tough to walk away from that.”
“Anyway, I’m trying not to punish him anymore. I mean, we were just talking about starting to work through it when this happened and I was so . . . in love with him again, y’know?”
“And now?”
“I’m still in love with him, of course. That’s what’s so terrible.”
There was a pause, but to her credit, Tracy didn’t ask why that was terrible.
“You know, just because you’re not at Power to the People doesn’t mean you have to stop writing. For years you’ve talked about all these ideas you have. And remember you wanted to start a literary journal? I mean, this could be your chance . . .”
“Except that I can’t think about anything except what’s happening to Shawn.”
“You don’t need me to tell you that’s probably not the healthiest thing in the world, right?”
“Look. Lemme get this packing done. I’ll call you when I get up to Lorna’s.”
“Okay. And why don’t I come up this weekend? We can check out our old stomping grounds.”
“Sure.”
Riley threw some clothes haphazardly into her suitcase and dragged it out into the living room. Shawn had his things waiting by the door and was on the phone, probably calling for a car.
“We’ll have a security guy with us from now on,” he said casually when he hung up. “I don’t know if you met him before. Tiny. Works for Chris?”
“A bodyguard,” Riley said. “Isn’t that a little excessive?”
“No.”
She didn’t argue.
The car was waiting at the freight entrance. It was a different car and driver than the one who’d picked her up at work. Riley smiled at him absently when she got in. As they pulled out of the alley Riley spotted the cluster of paparazzi waiting near the front of their building.
“This is Tiny,” Shawn introduced. “He’ll be staying with you from now on.”
“With me?” she asked. “What about you?”
“I’ll have some other guy,” Shawn said vaguely. “But when I’m in the city, Tiny stays with you.”
“Lorna . . .”
“I already called and asked her. She said he can use the carriage house.”
The carriage house was what they called the room over the garage that Lorna used when she was writing. It was basically its own little apartment, with a kitchenette and full sitting room and separate bath.
“Oh. Glad you two have it all sorted out,” Riley said.
She leaned against the cool glass of the window and shut her eyes, planning to sleep through the entire drive. But Shawn had other ideas. As soon as they hit the highway, he slid a manila folder onto her lap without explanation. The first was a three page document and that listed properties and accounts, columns of numbers on the right corresponded with each until, on the last page, where there was a grand total. The figure was much higher than she’d imagined. She slapped the folder shut.
“I meet with a business manager every month,” Shawn said. “We go over everything, and I sign checks, that kind of thing. If I’m not able to meet with him, I’ll need you to do it. And if that’s the case, someone else needs to have power of attorney. So that would be you, Mrs. Gardner.”
“So I’m ‘it’, huh? Not Brendan.”
Shawn looked perplexed. “Why would I ask Brendan?”
“No reason, I guess.”She turned away and looked out the window again. She could just make out the Hudson River.
“What’re you thinking about?” Shawn asked gently.
“Nothing.”
She was thinking about Peter and his thinly veiled satisfaction at her misfortune, because perhaps the good fortune that preceded it had been too much for him not to envy. She was thinking about how love and anger could co-exist in the same heart. She was thinking that by turning over control of all his assets, Shawn was proving once and for all that he really did see her as his partner. And she was hoping that it wasn’t too late to matter.
He didn’t try to draw her out of her funk for the rest of the drive.
When they pulled up, Riley was the first one out of the car. She pressed herself into Lorna’s arms when she opened the door and felt the tension dissipate. Then Lorna was releasing her and hugging Shawn. When she pulled away, she touched the side of his face the way any mother would.
“Well. Enough of that,” she said, her eyes warmly regarding him.
“And you must be Tiny.” She took in his size as she turned from Shawn and laughe
d. “I love it.”
There was a lunch of Indian take-out waiting for them in the kitchen. Lorna had even taken the trouble to put it all into serving dishes with plates and silverware laid out. She passed around raspberry lemonade in tall glasses and filled the silence with chatter about her students’ reactions to the news.
Apparently some of them thought it was appropriate to confront her during a lecture about whether she believed Shawn was guilty or not.
“Well, I suppose I’m fair game having spoken out and written about rape my entire career,” she said.
“Mom,” Riley stopped her, jarred by the use of the word.
“It’s okay,” Shawn said. “I want to know what people are saying.”
“Well you’ll be pleased to know that most of them believe you,” she said. “But no surprise there. Women are hardly ever believed.”
“In this case, that’s just as well,” Riley snapped. “Because she’s lying.”
“I know that,” Lorna touched her hand. “I was speaking more generally, of course.”
“The ones who don’t believe her,” Shawn said. “Why don’t they?”
“A fundamental misunderstanding about why men rape women,” Lorna said. “They don’t believe her because they think you can get just about any woman you might want. So essentially, you didn’t need to rape anyone for sex.”
“And that doesn’t make sense?” Tiny asked.
“It would, if men raped women because of sex.”
“Men rape women in a dysfunctional attempt at self-empowerment, and to subjugate and humiliate them,” Riley recited woodenly and as though by rote.
Tiny shook his head, looking unconvinced.
“I mean, think about it. Have you ever been so attracted to a woman it made you want to rape her?”
Tiny flinched.
“Exactly,” Riley said. “Rape is not a sexual impulse.”
“Not a sexual impulse, per se,” Lorna clarified.
“What about the ones who think I did it?” Shawn asked. He sounded strangely distant, as though the question was purely academic.
“They felt that your being part of the rap music scene would make it more likely.”
“That’s it,” Shawn said quietly.
Everyone looked at him, puzzled.
“That’s the juror I have to make sure I don’t get.”
Lorna nodded. “I think that’s exactly right.”
“Will you help me?” Shawn asked her suddenly. “With jury selection.”
Lorna leaned back in her seat and blinked. “You mean as a jury consultant?”
Riley knew that tone. She was intrigued by the idea.
“Yes,” Shawn nodded. “Whatever rate you want to charge . . .”
“Shawn. You insult me,” she cut him off. “If I were to do this, it would be as your mother-in-law. Not as some hired gun.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Riley said. “So basically Lorna would be there. But not me.”
Shawn looked at her unmoved.
“That’s just insane,” Riley said. She shoved back from the table and stalked out of the room.
Shawn watched as Riley walked out in a huff then turned his attention once again to his meal. He could feel Lorna and Tiny eyeing him, waiting for his reaction. He had none. Riley liked to say that he was used to getting his own way, the truth was, so was she. In a different way, but ultimately it boiled down to the same thing—she wanted what she wanted, and was unaccustomed to not getting it.
And under normal circumstances, he was happy to indulge her. But these were not normal circumstances. There was no way in three hells he was going to let her sit in a courtroom and listen to excruciating details about his sexual encounter with another woman, all the while having to pretend it didn’t hurt her. And then run a gauntlet of photographers afterwards? It wasn’t happening. And if that meant she was going to have tantrums or give him the cold shoulder then so be it.
“Are you going after her?” Lorna asked.
It wasn’t a recommendation, but rather an expression of curiosity.
“No,” Shawn shook his head.
Lorna stifled a smile, and Shawn couldn’t shake the feeling that she approved.
“Tiny,” she said brightly, getting up to follow Riley herself. “When you’re done, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying. And you’ll have to tell me your real name. I find nicknames tedious before very long.”
When she was safely out of earshot, Tiny looked at Shawn and laughed.
“Man,” he said, “those are two strong women. I bet they keep you on your toes.”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Shawn said.
He purposely ate slowly, drawing out the meal so that Riley would have ample time to calm down. Knowing her, she wouldn’t simply drop it; she would expect him to defend his position yet again and try to chip away at his resistance bit by tiny bit.
She’d tried the same strategy in the weeks leading up to their getting married, giving him reason after reason that they didn’t need to get married. But there had been no arguing him out of that one and there was no arguing him out of this either. It was time for him to step up and take care of her. He’d failed in that when he allowed himself to get caught up with Keisha. But he wasn’t going to repeat his mistake. She may think she was prepared for the negative attention that would come their way, but she had no idea and he wasn’t about to allow her to find out.
Now that he was here, he had to admit, there was something about being out of the city that relaxed him. It was a state of mind, a sense of being far removed and unreachable that was difficult to achieve when you were in Manhattan and mere steps away from the action. He wondered whether it would be possible to go into town without attracting too much attention. Maybe he would give it a try and see what happened. But probably better to bring Tiny along, just in case things got out of hand.
The town looked like it hadn’t changed in a hundred years. There was a small square, and a commercial area that stretched the meaning of the word, consisting as it did of about three blocks of small boutiques and a smattering of three-story office buildings. Unlike Manhattan, there was ample parking available and only a few pedestrians on the sidewalks. It was quiet enough that Shawn had Tiny drop him off about five miles from the house. He left his phone in the car and walked, passing a grocery store that reminded him of the old-fashioned general stores in cowboy movies. Next to the produce were bags of feed for livestock and next to that, garden tools and rubber boots.
Testing the waters, he went in and bought a bottle of kiwi juice. The cashier looked at him a moment longer than necessary and he knew he’d been recognized. She quickly composed her face and smiled blandly at him as she handed him his change. The kiwi juice took him back to the night he and Riley met, and they’d walked to the Starbucks in Herald Square after dinner. When he looked across the table at her that night, he never would have guessed that he was looking into the eyes of his future wife.
Halfway between the house and downtown was a park. There were college students sitting in the grass, taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather, playing Frisbee and sunning themselves. He watched warily as they took him in, murmuring among themselves when they realized who he was. No one made a move to approach him and he relaxed. It was funny how places differed in that way; in some cities it was a given that he was going to be mobbed and in others, people seemed to instinctively maintain a respectful distance.
As the streets transformed from commercial to residential, he took notice of the houses. Some were modest ranch-style homes but as he got closer to the college and to Lorna’s, the character changed to much grander, though understated in their grandeur, residences. He passed a few women wearing sweatpants, walking toddlers and pushing baby carriages and a few chattering groups of kids who seemed to be walking home from school or the bus stop.
When he got back to the house, he had the impulse to keep walking. The solitude and the chance to think was something he hadn’t had
in a long time. But Riley was sitting on the doorstep, looking worriedly out at the street. When he came into view, her face brightened and she stood to greet him. Shawn took her in as though seeing her for the first time. She was wearing baggy grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. A red sweater was tied about her waist.
“How was your walk?” she looped an arm through his.
“Good.”
“Good.”
“I might do it again later,” he said. “Come with me?”
“Of course,” she said.
g
Chapter Nineteen
Riley had drifted off to sleep, her head resting on his arm but Shawn could not sleep. Instead, he found himself drawn once again to the backyard. He gently extricated himself and slipped downstairs. This time he wasn’t surprised that Lorna was there, similarly lured by the dark and sounds of the night. She, also, didn’t seem to find his appearance at all unexpected.
“Can’t sleep?” she asked, offering him a cigarette.
He took it though he seldom smoked. Cigarettes anyway.
“Thinking too much, I guess,” he said.
“I always think too much,” she said. “I never get more than five hours of sleep.”
“Not with you on that one,” Shawn laughed. “I usually sleep like the dead.”
“This must be scary,” she acknowledged. “Riley’s terrified for you, of course.”
“I’ll be a’ight. Either way, I’ll be okay.”
“No. Not either way. I’ve worked with guys in jail,” Lorna said. “And there’s nothing alright about going to jail, Shawn.”
“I didn’t mean . . .”
“I know. But what I mean is that I don’t want to hear you sound resigned to getting locked up. Not ever. If you’re innocent, you fight. You fight this to your last breath if you have to. You hear me?”
Her ferocity reminded him of Riley when she was defending him.
“I hear you,” he said.
“Unless you aren’t innocent. Which clearly you are.”
Shawn looked at her. “Do you believe that?”
“I do,” she said. “Do you think for a second I would have you in my house otherwise?”
Commitment Page 47