Commitment by Nia Forrester Page B

were to wind up in a tabloid someplace.
    Shawn shook his head. “I might as well be some guy climbing out of your window late at night. What we do is no different from that.”
    “And that bothers you all of a sudden?” she demanded.
    “What bothers me is that every dude in here has as much right to step to you as I do. No matter how many times we’ve been together, that never changes. You’re with somebody else.”
    “But not tonight. Not this weekend. I’m here with you Shawn.”
    “What did you tell him anyway, about this weekend?”
    “That I was going to L.A. to see a friend.”
    “A friend,” he repeated. “That’s what we are, you and me? Friends?”
    “ Yeah . Sure, there’s more to it than that, but . . .” she trailed off into silence.
    “ Exactly how many of your friends are you fucking, Riley?”
    “ Just stop ,” she said, holding up a hand. “ Yo u wanted me here and so I came . I don’t understand why you’re picking a fight with me. Nothing’s different except the geography.” 
    “ M aybe that’s the fucking problem,” Shawn said.
    Then he was gone.
    The sudden absence of his body heat caused her to shudder. A moment later Tracy was standing in front of her.
    “What the hell just happened?”
    Riley shook her head. “I don’t know anymore. Look, let’s just go, okay?”
    Tracy’s eyes were wide. She didn’t protest, as Riley expected she would. “Okay. Sure. Let me get Brendan.”
    “No, we’re taking a cab.” Riley pushed past her and toward the exit.
     
    g
     
    When Riley finally emerged from the mass of blankets and sheets on Saturday, it was well past noon, and Tracy was coming in from what was apparently a very fruitful shopping trip.
    “I just saw Colin Farrell on Robertson Boulevard,” she said tossing her shopping bags in a corner and yanking aside the drapes. “And I swear to God he gave me a second look.”
    “How exciting,” Riley said, her voic e croaking. “Wait. How’d you get to Robertson Boulevard?”
    “Brendan. And no, Shawn was not with us.” Tracy sat on the edge of the bed. “Let’s go grab something to eat, okay? He’s not essential to your having a good time, Riley.”
    “I know that,” she said impatiently. “But I came here to spend time with him.”
    “And evidently he would rather act a fool. So what’re you going to do about it? Curl up in a ball and mope? We have all of today and tonight. We can still have fun this weekend.”
    “You’re right.” Riley rolled over onto her back and kicked her legs free of the covers. “I’ll be ready in a half hour.”
    Tracy leaned over and smoothed her hair, just as she got up to head for the shower.
    “Riley, ” she said. “Y ou’re going to have to consider whether you might not be in over your head here.”
    They rented a car and went to Griffith Park, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and the L.A. Farmers Market where Riley picked up a couple of tchotkes and a t-shirt for Brian.
    Just before sundown they ended up at Venice Beach and ate hot dogs while standing around watching bodybuilders flex and preen for out-of-towners.
    Tracy kept up a steady stream of chatter, transparently trying to help her stave off the funk that she was barely holding at bay. They would be on a plane early tomorrow afternoon and back in New York in time to get a few hours in preparing for work on Monday. She tried not to think about the expanse of time that would follow, during which she would not see Shawn at all. She tossed the butt of her hot-dog bun onto the sand for the seagulls and watched the sun set.
    Before heading back, they stopped at a sidewalk café and Riley people-watched while Tracy went inside to order their drinks. There was a warm breeze, making her feel sleepy and mellow. She wondered what Shawn was doing and whe ther he was thinking about her. Fi ghting with him was so unfamiliar and uncomfortable she almost didn’t know how to be angry with him. But over the last couple of months, there