“Done,” she said, now. “I promise.”
That should have ended it, but for the remainder of their time in the condo, they packed silently and didn’t speak even for the entire drive to the airport. Once they got there, they met the Acostas at the gate—Matt, Peter, his girlfriend Xiomara and the baby, Mr. and Mrs. Acosta and Miri, who was jumping out of her skin with excitement.
Miriam was small and delicate where her brothers were tall and solid. She stood about five-footfour and had fine features and a creamy dulce de leche complexion. She didn’t resemble Mark, Matt and Peter at all and had reddish brown hair while theirs was the darkest of black; her eyes hazel while theirs were dark brown. But like her brothers, her eyes were ringed by improbably long lashes. When she smiled as she was doing now, dimples appeared in her cheeks. Mark had one on his chin. When she’d met Miri at Mark’s signing ceremony and spent just half an hour in her company, Dylan had loved her, which was saying something since even Mark she had not loved that quickly.
“I’m so excited you’re coming with us,” Miri said hugging Dylan. “I just wish your mother could have made it.”
At that, Dylan glanced at Mark, hoping he hadn’t heard the comment. Another sore spot. When she’d mentioned that she usually spent Christmas in Arizona with her mother, he’d insisted that Dylan instead invite her to the DR And when she told him it wasn’t a great idea, he’d taken that as a sign that she wasn’t ready to introduce him to her family. So Dylan implied that she’d asked and that her mother hadn’t been able to change her plans.
What Mark didn’t know, and what she couldn’t find the words to explain was that Leslie Sanger was not like other mothers. When she thought of her childhood, all Dylan could remember was a sense of longing. Longing for her mother to come home from one of her jobs and pick her up from the babysitter’s, longing for her to hug her, longing for her to offer a word of praise, a word of warmth. Something. Anything. And yet, for some reason she’d never doubted that her mother loved her. It was just that she didn’t know how to express it.
When she was five, Dylan’s father, a New York City police officer was killed in the line of duty. A sixteen-year-old crackhead had grabbed his gun while he was taking her in for possession and shot him in the chest. Sometimes, Dylan thought she could remember him, but mostly she remembered his picture on the mantle, flanked by candles that remained lit always, replaced when they burned out. She tried to remember a time when her mother may not have been so sad but she couldn’t. It seemed as though she had always been this way. She went about the business of raising Dylan with a sense of focus and diligence that no one could fault—she did all the right things except openly display her affection. A few months into Dylan’s sophomore year at Fordham, her mother had announced that she was moving to Arizona with a boyfriend Dylan had never even met.
Now, their relationship wasn’t a bad one exactly, but it was distant. Watching the way Mark and his siblings, especially Miri, were with their mother aroused all the old feelings of loneliness and longing that Dylan remembered from her childhood. She hadn’t quite wrapped her mind around how to bring together the two lives—the passionate expressive one she had with Mark and the quiet, reserved one she had with her mother.
It would have been too difficult to have her along for this trip, and honestly, it might have ruined the whole thing. Dylan was beginning to get used to being with the Acostas, basking in their warmth, feeling like one of their clan. To have her mother there would have made her self-conscious, and she was afraid that the Acostas—and most especially Mark—would be put off by her mother’s quiet, standoffish demeanor. But Dylan had spared Mark all those details, and so instead he believed her reluctance was an indication that she wasn’t sure about him, about them.
“We’re going to have the best time,” Miri said. “I’m kind of glad to have a girlfriend to hang out with. We can go to some of the clubs and flirt with cute island boys.”
Dylan closed her eyes, inwardly wincing. Of course, Miri could have no idea about her and Mark’s little talk this morning, but it seemed as though at every turn she was making it worse.
“Hey, how many bags are we checking in?” Peter broke in on their conversation. “¿Cuántas tienes, Miri?”
“Just the one over there,” Miri pointed out her suitcase and Peter, Matt and Mark began the task of moving them all up to the check-in desk.
Mark wasn’t talking much, but Dylan sensed his tension. She turned away from him, focusing instead on Peter and Xiomara’s baby boy, Pedrito. He was a beautiful, chubby nut-brown boy with a head full of curly black hair and the liquid gray eyes. So precious. She leaned in and cooed at him, and he blinked at her. At six weeks old, he was still too tiny to do much more than gurgle and smile.
Xiomara, Peter’s girlfriend, even though she’d recently given birth was model-beautiful. Tall and lithe with dark brown hair and a narrow, aristocratic face to go along with her formidable name. Of the entire Acosta household Peter and his girlfriend had been the least warm, the least welcoming, treating Dylan cordially but clearly withholding judgment until they knew her better. She didn’t fault them for that—she was still a virtual stranger who showed up just as Mark was being made rich, after all.
Checking in for the flight seemed to take a really long time while everyone searched for and produced passports, figured out how many pieces of hand luggage they had and affixed tags to everything. Dylan watched, amused as people behind them in line fidgeted impatiently, waiting for the large noisy family to get their act together. She had been one of the fidgeting, impatient people in the past, but never a member of the large noisy family. She liked this side of the fence much better.
When finally they were done, and ready to head for the gate, Mark found her and took her hand. He remained moody and quiet, and yet he still naturally reached for her hand. God, she was falling harder and harder for this man.
With him, there was none of the game-playing and power moves. He wanted her and he let her know it in word and deed. And that didn’t change just because they’d had a fight. Sometimes Dylan wondered whether she’d ever had a boyfriend before. Maybe she only thought she had. Mark’s attention to her, and need for attention from her was like no other relationship she’d had in the past.
Within a week after they started sleeping together, she’d overheard him talking to his agent on the phone about an evening event Corey wanted him to go to.
I’ll call you back, he said. I have to ask Dylan.
At first she was puzzled. What on earth did he have to check with her for?
But then he’d actually asked her whether she had something planned for them. As far as Mark was concerned, it went without saying that if she needed him for something else that evening, it would take precedence over Corey’s event, whatever it may be. She hadn’t imagined that having sex would accelerate their relationship in the way it had.
Suddenly, she was folded into this new life, and this enormous family—dinners at his parents’ house, day-trips with him and his sister to look at colleges and even to Mass with his mother twice. With other men, sex produced doubt—they became less accessible, more ambivalent about whether they wanted to “move so fast.” But Mark had none of those misgivings, and that was both refreshing and frightening. For him, sex produced certainty. He had given himself to her in more ways than one, and wanted her to do the same.
Immediately after that first time, he became much more publicly expressive with her, even around his family. He pulled her to sit on his lap, kissed her on the neck or slid a hand into the back pocket of her jeans. Without speaking the words, he announced to the world: she’s with me.
Now, Mark let go of her hand only when they had to remove their shoes and load their stuff onto the conveyer to pass through the x-ray machine. On the other side, Miri looped an arm through Dylan’s and pulled her away to browse the gift shops while they waited for boarding time. When Dylan looked back, Mark was holding his nephew, nuzzling him and kissing
him. Watching him cup the baby’s head in his large hand, she found herself wondering how he would be with a baby of his own.
“Let’s go to Bijoux Terner,” Miri said, yanking her arm. “All that cool stuff for only ten dollars.”
As she always did on long flights, Dylan fell asleep almost immediately after take-off, waking once when Mark got up to go to the restroom and had to move her head from his shoulder. The next time she opened her eyes, they were landing. She looked at Mark through sleepy eyes and he smiled at her, but his eyes were distant and distracted.
Making their way through the airport, Mr. and Mrs. Acosta seemed to be energized, and stand a little taller. It was only when strangers began reaching out to greet Mark that Dylan realized why. Mark was the latest native son to make good. The Dominican Republic had more than its fair share of outstanding baseball players, so much so, they seemed to be minting new stars practically every year. But they didn’t all sign multi-million dollar contracts, or get on the front and back covers of the New York daily newspapers. So Mark was something of a local celebrity in his parents’ home country as well.
He smiled and thanked people, nodding and shaking hands as they went through the airport, one arm holding Dylan at his side. Even though his parents were clearly proud enough to burst, he seemed embarrassed by all the fuss and by the time everyone gathered at baggage claim, was holding his head down as though hoping not to be noticed.
Matt came and put his arm about her while Mark focused on the carousel. Like Miri, he seemed genuinely excited she was there, and Dylan relaxed enough to put an arm about his waist as well.
“Why didn’t you bring your girlfriend?” she asked.
“I need to be free when I’m in the DR,” Matt said. “Too many cute women to stick to just one. Except my brother doesn’t seem to have that problem . . .” he inclined his head in Mark’s direction. “I swear you have his balls in your back pocket or something.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say,” Dylan pretended to be annoyed but was secretly pleased.
“Mateo, help your brother with those bags!” Mrs. Acosta called to him.
Matt immediately released Dylan and went to help Mark drag the luggage off the carousel. Mrs. Acosta joined her, watching her three sons with barely concealed pride in her eyes.
“You’re going to love my country,” she promised Dylan. “I am so happy you’re here. But for your mother, I think, Christmas without you cannot be so happy.”
Dylan smiled.
There was no way she was going to tell Mrs. Acosta that her mother didn’t celebrate Christmas. When Dylan visited her in Arizona around this time of year, not only was the weather not reminiscent of the season, neither was the mood in her mother’s house. Leslie Sanger lived a quiet life with her boyfriend, Stuart. In their free time they hiked and practiced yoga. Once in awhile they went on spiritual retreats. When Dylan visited, their routine remained precisely the same and she fit herself into it as best she could. They probably wouldn’t miss her at all.
Mark had booked them all into the best resort in La Romana, in a five-bedroom villa that had an infinity pool and was surrounded by lush tropical vegetation. The villa boasted an enormous chef’s kitchen and open-style living area with stark white marble floors and teak pillars supporting a beautiful craftsman ceiling. All the furniture was white, and Indian cotton curtains that looked as delicate as spider webs fluttered in the breeze. Out past the pool, there were the soft rolling hills of the resort’s champion golf course, and just beyond that the cerulean Caribbean Sea.
Mr. Acosta put a hand over his heart when he saw the view and Dylan watched with a lump in her throat as tears rolled silently down his cheeks. Mark walked over to his father and pulled him into a rough embrace, and the Mr. Acosta grabbed him, holding him tight and kissing both his cheeks. Just then Matt walked in, and spotting the pool let out a loud whoop, dropped his luggage and took a running dive in, fully clothed.
This broke the heavy mood in the room as Mrs. Acosta laughed and Miri followed Matt, jumping in with her sundress. When she surfaced, she squealed and beckoned to Dylan.
“C’mon!” she yelled. “You know you want to!”
Dylan hesitated for only a moment then kicked off her Keds, running and jumping in cannonball style. As soon as she hit the water, she felt the weight of the New York winter and her uncertainty about Mark’s mood wash away. Her only niggling worry was how Ava was doing. Like Dylan, Ava did not see Christmas as a happy time. Dylan made a mental note to call her later, but for now, just floated on her back and enjoyed the water.
Because Mrs. Acosta was not particularly keen on Mark and Dylan sharing a room, Dylan roomed with Miri, while Mark and Matt each had their own; Peter of course had Xiomara and the baby with him in one room and the Acostas took the enormous master. When he’d unpacked his stuff, Mark brought the suitcase with only Dylan’s clothes remaining over to her and Miri’s room. When he dropped it off, he had almost nothing to say, and went back to his own room immediately.
“Did you two have a fight or something?” Miri asked, sprawling across her bed.
“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” Dylan said, beginning to pull her clothes out of the suitcase. “A misunderstanding. I thought we’d settled it but I guess not.”
“He’s very sensitive,” Miri said matter-of-factly. “But you probably noticed that by now.”
“No,” Dylan said honestly, looking at Miri. “I hadn’t noticed that. But of course we haven’t known each other for that long. I’m still figuring him out.”
“What you see is what you get with Mark. He says what he means, and he means what he says,” Miri shrugged.
“Well, it’s what he doesn’t say that I’m concerned about,” Dylan muttered.
“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. He’s obviously into you. You’re the first woman we’ve met since . . .” she stopped.
“Since?”
Miri looked embarrassed. “Just in a long time.”
There was obviously something more, but Dylan decided not to press it. It would only make her upset, she was sure of it. So no point going there. At least not with Miri.
“So Mark got a cook for us for the week,” Miri said in a transparent attempt to change the subject. “What do want to bet my mother chases her out of the kitchen?”
Dylan smiled and continued unpacking, making a mental note to ask Mark about his last relationship. If the look on Miri’s face was any indication, it had been serious, and so come hell or high water, she was going find out all about it.
Once the unpacking was done, everyone seemed to drift off, napping in their separate rooms, exhausted from the early morning traveling. Dylan, having slept on the plane, instead went to sit by the pool, taking her cell phone with her to call Ava. She answered right away, and let out a scream when she heard her Dylan’s voice.
“I was hoping you’d call!” she said. “How is it? Beautiful?”
“Amazing. You should see the view, Ava. And there was the sweetest thing. When we got here Mr. Acosta looked at where we’re staying and he cried. And then Mark hugged him and it was all I could do not to start blubbering myself.”
“Oh my god, I am so happy for you. You get to have an actual Christmas. When was the last time that ever happened, huh?”
Underneath, Dylan could hear the wistfulness in Ava’s voice and her heart broke a little for her friend. They’d been soldiers together, battling through their unenviable childhoods and loneliness and disappointments in love. Dylan felt a little like a deserter. She was here, in this beautiful place, among these wonderful people and Ava was back in New York, probably nursing a bottle of pinot grigio as they spoke.
“Maybe you could come down for New Year’s Eve,” Dylan suggested. “We would have the best time.”
“No. Not this time. I think you need to get to know his family. I’m not going to intrude on that.”
“It wouldn’t be an intrusion; it would be so much fun for you to . . .”
>
“No,” Ava said firmly. “This is your time with Mark.”
There were tears in her voice, but because she knew her so well, Dylan believed, no, she knew that they were tears of joy.
“Ava . . .”
“Stop,” she said. “I am just boozy and weepy and wishing there wasn’t a foot of dirty snow outside. Just bring me back a t-shirt or something. Or a hot Dominican man.”
“I’ll do my best to fit one into my suitcase.”
“Good. Call me in a couple days, okay?”
‘A couple days’ was Christmas. Dylan knew she didn’t want to say it, but that day in particular was probably going to be a tough one for her. She would go spend it with her brother and father. Her mother may or may not be there. There would be few gifts, if any, someone would get drunk, and there would be an argument. Ava would leave early, taking Metro North back to the city early. It was what she did every year, and every year she tried again hoping it would be different.
“Okay. I love you,” Dylan said. She hung up and wiped the tears from her own face.
In the absence of a real family, she was Ava’s family and Ava was hers. And even though they’d never spent the Christmas holidays together, their shared misery on that day was one of many things that bound them together.
“What’s wrong?”
Dylan looked up. Mark was behind her, his face concerned. He was wearing just his jeans and no shirt, his chest distracting her for a moment. Her man was so sexy.
“What’s the matter?”
“I was talking to Ava. She’s alone for the holidays. Or she may as well be.”
Mark shrugged. “Tell her to come here.”
“I did,” Dylan admitted. “She turned me down. She’s going upstate to see her father and brother. But it never turns out quite the way she hopes it will.”
“Well, if she changes her mind, tell her she’s welcome to come. She could room with Miri and you could come stay with me. Instead of this stupid set-up with you all the way down the hall and around a dozen corners in this huge house.”
The Seduction of Dylan Acosta Page 7
