Commitment

by Forrester, Nia

  Brendan shrugged. “I figured I’d check and see whether Riley was here.”

  “And I am,” Riley said oblivious to the subtext. “So let’s go eat.”

  “Yeah. Let’s go do that,” Shawn said looking at Brendan.

  They walked to a nearby Thai restaurant that Riley recommended and were seated – at Shawn’s request – way in the back and well out of sight. If he’d had his way, Brendan wouldn’t be with them and he and Riley would be in bed eating out of cartons. Once in the booth, Riley slid in closer to him, lifting his arm so that it was draped over her shoulder and she was leaning back onto his chest. As she grabbed the menu and began poring over it, Shawn could feel Brendan’s eyes on them, studying every gesture.

  “So what was up at the studio?” Brendan asked.

  “Same old thing. They’re hittin’ Sans Souci later.”

  Brendan nodded, not really listening. He had an agenda, but Shawn couldn’t figure out what it was just yet.

  Riley snapped the menu shut and looked over at Brendan. “I just realized something. You look different.”

  “No goatee,” he said automatically.

  “I like it,” she said.

  As she spoke, she wrapped an arm about Shawn’s waist so that she was practically hugging him. The gesture seemed so fluid and natural for her that it was easy to forget that not so long ago things had been very different. No public displays of affection at all. He liked this; this was definitely better.

  She was describing for Brendan one of her trips to a tenement in Camden, talking about a family she found living in an apartment with no heat, hot water or electricity. Shawn watched Brendan watch her, and knew that he wasn’t listening. They gave their orders and presently, the food came out. When Riley excused herself to go wash her hands before eating, Shawn leaned back and arms folded, raised an eyebrow. He didn’t even need to ask the question.

  “A’ight, so I thought I’d check her out.”

  “Check her out, how?” Shawn demanded.

  “You know what I mean. She seems cool, but you never know, right?”

  “This is all Chris’ idea, right?”

  Brendan shrugged and helped himself to some rice.

  “He made me think about some things. Asked me some questions I didn’t have the answer to, that’s all.”

  “Like what?”

  Brendan shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter right now.”

  “Y’know what,” Shawn said in an angry whisper. “Y’all need to back the fuck up.”

  Brendan shook his head and gave a short laugh.

  “What?” Shawn demanded.

  “How much are you worth, Shawn?”

  “What . . . this is about the . . .”

  “Yeah. The money. Do you even know?” Brendan asked, his voice quiet. “Do you even know how much you’re worth?”

  Shawn looked at him evenly.

  “Well I can tell you. As of January 15th, you were worth sixty-eight million. This year alone, you’ll net another ten. That’s a lot of cake.” Brendan scooped some shrimp and vegetables onto his plate as he spoke. “You don’t have any kids. The house in DC is paid for. You don’t buy cars, do hard drugs and you don’t gamble.”

  “What’s your fucking point?” Shawn asked impatiently. But he already knew.

  “The point is that some women might be excited at being asked to marry someone in your situation.”

  “I was there. Believe me, she wasn’t excited,” Shawn said leaning across the table, lowering his voice to avoid raising it. “And a few weeks ago, you were thinking I might be not be good enough for her. Now, all of a sudden it’s the opposite?”

  Brendan raised his hands as though Shawn was pointing a gun at him.

  “No one ever said anything about her not being good enough. It’s obvious you’re not in her league. But we’re not talking about that right now. We’re talking about the money. Like I said. I never thought about it till Chris . . .”

  “Yeah, we should listen to Chris,” Shawn scoffed.

  “He’s been there man.”

  “Yeah, with skanky-ass video ‘hos that he gets knocked up just about every year. You pluck a bitch straight outta the projects and then act surprised when she start asking for shit?”

  “Okay, so not the same kinds of women as Riley. But when he says you need a pre-nup, he has a point.”

  Shawn leaned back. “A pre-nup.”

  Just then Riley returned, so the subject was dropped.

  While they ate, she did most of the talking, and didn’t seem to notice the subtle change in mood. A pre-nup. Shawn hadn’t even considered one. If the situation were reversed, he thought, looking at Brendan, he would most definitely be doing and saying the same things. So why did it still feel like it didn’t apply to this – to him and Riley?

  After dinner they walked back to the hotel where Brendan said his goodbyes, giving Shawn a silently imploring look as he left. But it had only taken as long as dinner for Shawn to make up his mind. If Brendan thought he was going to mention a pre-nup to Riley, he was crazy. She was already skittish about the marriage thing as it was. He didn’t need to give her any reasons to say ‘no’ when he was pretty sure Tracy was already supplying those by the dozen.

  “So how long do I have you for?” Riley asked as they entered the suite.

  “You have me for as long as you want me,” Shawn said pulling her to him.

  “You know what I mean,” she said against his lips as he kissed her.

  “Okay. Seriously.” He sat on the bed and pulled her onto his lap. “I don’t have anything solid till January, so I have almost three weeks off. But I have to go to Maryland next week to list my townhouse. Other than that, I’m here.”

  “You’re putting your house on the market?”

  Shawn nodded. “I’ll get something here in New York.”

  Riley chewed on a nail, and Shawn tried without success to read her expression.

  “It could be a rental,” he continued. “Or it could be something more permanent. So I’ll be around for a minute.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Why don’t you get some stuff from your place and stay here with me?” he asked impulsively.

  “All week?” she asked.

  “Or longer.”

  “Are you asking me to move in to the Four Seasons with you?” she teased.

  “No, I’m asking you to marry me,” he said seriously. “But to stay with me here in the meantime.”

  “I would love to stay here with you this week,” Riley said, pointedly avoiding the underlying, much bigger question. “I could be back by ten if I go now.”

  She made as though to stand but Shawn pulled her back.

  “Hey, hey. Not now. We can go together tomorrow. Tonight you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Yes, sir,” she laughed.

  “And I’m not letting you run out on me at six in the morning either.”

  He pushed her back and rolled over on top of her, the weight of his upper body resting on his elbows.

  “But I have to go to work tomorrow,” she pointed out, amused. “And people would talk if I showed up in the same clothes I left in today.”

  “So I’ll get you a car to take you home early, and you pack your stuff, and send the car back here with your stuff after it takes you to work. Sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  g

  Later, Shawn watched from bed as Riley walked across the room to go start the shower. Her body, her skin, her hair, her face. That was the standard now. Any deviation from that would be wrong, and somehow inadequate.

  After a few moments, he heard the water and Riley stuck her head out of the bathroom, beckoning for him to follow. They stood in the shower that was big enough for six people, jets of almost too hot water massaging them from all sides. Riley reached for the hotel shampoo and worked the lather into her hair, turning her back to Shawn so he could rub it into her scalp. As he washed her hair, it was difficult not to let
his hands roam down her neck and back and then around.

  “Don’t you start,” she said, her tone more encouraging than not.

  He ran his hands over her sides and back up, over her arms and briefly across her breasts before finally focusing on her hair once again. He scrubbed for a few minutes then pulled her back into the direct stream of one of the shower jets to rinse.

  Her eyes were shut and her neck arched backward. It was impossible to resist kissing her there, right at the point where her throat curved. This time, she responded by turning her head so that her lips were on his, and the tip of her tongue met his own. Shawn reached down and stroked her until she was pressing herself against the heel of his hand, her breath coming harder and faster. Just as he could feel the tension building, he pushed her against the shower wall and slid his hand along her inner thigh, lifting her leg so that he could enter her from behind.

  The friction was slow and sweet and hot. He leaned in, feeling a pulse from deep inside her. They moved together slowly and in perfect rhythm, Shawn’s hands coming up to cup her breasts. Finally Riley reached back and gripped his shoulder, her jaw clenched. One of them cried out their release. He couldn’t be sure it wasn’t him. Riley went slack in his arms and winced.

  “I think my leg’s asleep,” she said.

  “You want me to carry you out?” Shawn asked.

  “No,” she allowed her head to hang forward limp and pushed back against him so they remained connected. “The water feels good. Let’s stay a little while longer.”

  “Okay,” he said, kissing the back of her neck. “A little while longer.”

  At dawn, he opened the French doors to the rooftop terrace. The air was clean and clear, and the city seemed almost peaceful in the early, soft gray light. Even the traffic below was muted. Shawn looked back into the room where Riley was regarding him from the bed, her eyelids heavy. They had barely slept all night and spent hours talking until occasionally one of them reached for the other, and a touch in the right place, or the right way would get them going again.

  “What’re you looking so intense about over there?” she asked.

  “Just thinking about stuff.”

  He leaned against the door and stayed where he was, just so he could look at her. Shawn felt a tug in his core so fierce it was almost painful.

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Like why we never did this before.”

  “I seem to remember us doing this plenty of times before,” Riley said.

  “I mean why you never stayed before.”

  She half-shrugged and turned onto her back, looking away from him and at the ceiling.

  “No. Really,” he said seriously. “Why didn’t you ever stay?”

  “Because,” she said slowly. “It would have been too risky, I guess.”

  “Risky.”

  “Yes. Because I knew that . . .” she turned over again and looked directly at him, “because I knew that if I let myself, I could love you.”

  She gave him a wry smile and shrugged. “And then it happened anyway.”

  “Loving me is risky?”

  “Loving anyone is risky, Shawn,” she said quietly. “Isn’t it?”

  “So it wasn’t because you had to go home to . . .”

  “To Brian?” Riley said. “No. I would always avoid him for like three days after you left. I don’t know how he never figured it out. It was awful. I was awful.”

  “I didn’t like that,” he admitted. “When you left.”

  “But I always came back to you, didn’t I?”

  Shawn said nothing. It didn’t feel that way; it felt like he was the one who always came back to her.

  Riley stretched and groaned happily. “I wish I could ditch work today.”

  “So do it.”

  “It’s Friday. I may as well go in. I’m going to be so late though. I should call now and leave voicemail for Greg and see whether . . .”

  “I love you too,” Shawn interrupted her.

  No risk, no reward.

  Riley smiled, her eyes becoming warm. She looked almost shy, like a little girl.

  “More than anybody,” he continued. “More than anything. You know that right?”

  “Yeah,” she said after a moment as though just realizing it for the first time. “I know.”

  g

  For the last four years, almost every Sunday morning, Tracy and Riley met for Bikram yoga at a midtown studio. After perspiring and contorting for forty-five minutes, they showered and headed for their favorite coffee shop, Harambe, for breakfast.

  This morning it was considerably more difficult to get motivated with Shawn’s arms wrapped about her waist and his face buried in the back of her neck but somehow, Riley managed to get up and out of there. She was about a half hour early, having forgotten that she wouldn’t need nearly as much lead time, since she wasn’t coming from Flushing. Standing outside the studio in her yoga attire, her mat rolled under her arm, she tried to process everything that had happened over the last couple days.

  Shawn had said he loved her.

  Just thinking about it made her feel just as she had then – giddy and excited. It was probably unfair to compare it to how she’d felt when Brian said the same words and quite frankly there was no comparison. For the past few weeks she’d been desperately trying to come up with some reason for what she’d done to him, and the truth was, there was none.

  When Tracy showed up, she was breathless and flushed, her hair pulled back into a swing ponytail. She kissed Riley on the cheek and looped an arm through hers, pulling her toward the studio’s entrance.

  “What’s all the love about?” Riley asked suspiciously.

  “Does it have to be about something?” Tracy said, feigning disappointment.

  “I’m pretty sure it does, yes.”

  Tracy said nothing as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. They passed some of the folks from the early class as they descended, some of them still sweating profusely. Tracy carefully avoided physical contact, pressing herself against the wall of the narrow steps as they walked by her.

  “So what is it?” Riley said when as they shed their shoes for class. “Spit it out.”

  Once they got started, talking would be next to impossible given the challenges of Bikram yoga.

  “Okay there is something,” Tracy admitted.

  “I knew there was. What is it?”

  “Well I heard Barbra Streisand is coming to the Garden and I thought maybe . . .”

  “Barbra Streisand,” Riley said dryly.

  “Yes. Now, I don’t expect that she and Shawn move in the same circles or anything, but he is in the music industry, so I’m sure he knows someone.”

  “Sure. I’ll ask.”

  “You will?”

  Riley shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Huh. That was easy. I know you never want to ask him for anything, so I have to say, I’m completely surprised by how cool you’re being about this.”

  “I don’t know that he’ll be able to do anything but I’m happy to ask. And besides, it’s not for me.”

  Tracy grabbed her shoulder. “But you mustn’t tell him that. Or he won’t try as hard.”

  Riley laughed. “Fine, I won’t tell him that.”

  Bikram yoga had just the kind of intensity Riley was craving. The temperature in the room was somewhere between ninety-five and one hundred degrees, so the towel she brought along was essential. There were twenty-six poses in all, and by the time class was done, she always felt as though she’d been to a spinning class, and it didn’t hurt that her pores were completely clear after all the sweating either. She’d expected that she would use this time to think, but even that was difficult; she was unable to think about anything besides the poses and the unrelenting heat.

  Next to her, Tracy moved fluidly through her own routine, her face focused, her eyes staring off into the middle distance. Riley blinked and stretched then lowered into Downward Facing Dog, surprised to suddenly find herse
lf on her back looking up into the faces of Tracy and the Derek, the instructor, other faces from the class on the fringes.

  “Are you okay?” Tracy was asking. She sounded so far away.

  Riley blinked. “Of course I’m okay,” she said, annoyed.

  “You fainted,” Derek explained. “You were out for about three minutes.”

  “I’m fine,” Riley said, trying to sit up.

  “Nope. Give it a sec.” Derek pressed a hand firmly on her sternum, keeping her down. “A little help someone?”

  They carried her out into the hallway where it was so much cooler, Riley almost shivered.

  “Water, please,” Derek said.

  Someone produced a bottle of water and he opened it, holding it to Riley’s lips. She took it from him and guzzled.

  “Drinking last night?” Derek asked.

  “Wine. A few glasses.”

  “Ah. You’re probably just a little dehydrated for Bikram,” he said. He helped her sit up and pat her on the shoulder. “Sit here for a few minutes then hit the showers. A cool shower.”

  He winked at her and squeezed her shoulder before returning to the class.

  “Thanks.” Riley drank the rest of the water and looked at Tracy. “How humiliating.”

  Tracy smiled. “I always drink about a gallon of water the night before,” she said. But she was looking at Riley searchingly, inquisitively.

  “What?”

  “When you were out, you said ‘Brian’ a couple of times.”

  Riley put her face in her hands. “Oh my god, that’s even more embarrassing.”

  “So what’s that about?” Tracy asked softly, sitting next to her.

  “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. About how everything went down. I just still feel terrible about it. Especially now since I’m . . .” She stopped abruptly.

  Tracy looked at her expectantly. “Since you’re what?”

  Riley shrugged.

  “Since you’re about to get married.”

  Riley looked away. That was precisely what she’d been about to say. But she hadn’t made that decision, had she?

  Tracy sighed deeply. “Riley, you know I would never tell you what to do,” she began.

  “But you’re about to, aren’t you?”