Submersed (23 page)

             
Wait. Dillon wasn’t going to escort anymore? Did that mean our “relationship” was over and I couldn’t call him anymore? Was it really over, just like that? Just when I’d come so far. We hadn’t even had sex yet. That bothered be more than it probably should have, but I was on the verge of finally being ready to. We’d been
so
close.

             
Dillon picked me up and spun me around, but my head was already spinning with questions. “I finally did it,
Livi
!”

             
He set me down and I thought I’d never seen him smile so big before.

             
“I’m so happy for you,” I forced out. I
had
to be happy for him. This meant the world to him.

             
But
was
I happy for him?
Really, genuinely happy?
I should have been. He’d achieved his dream. Yet I was still stuck in a prison of my own making.

             
I
t was like he had peeled back my scar tissue, buried a seed of promise or hope or whatever kind of bullshit it was deep within, fertilized it, let it grow and now he was getting the hell out of Dodge.

             
“Thanks,
Livi
. Mike and I are going to start looking at locations right away.”

             
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “That’s great.”

             
Dillon rambled on about equipment and layouts while I wondered what exactly this meant for us.
For me.

             
“Are you spending the night tonight?” I asked.

             
“Yeah, but I have to get up early in the morning to meet Mike and the real estate agent. He’s got a bunch of locations lined up for us to look at.”

             
“Okay,” I said, hiding my disappointment.

             
That night, Dillon seemed unusually preoccupied. I don’t know why, but that bothered me. I knew he had a lot on his mind with the gym and everything, but I wasn’t used to him acting like he was a million miles away from me while still in the same room.

             
We didn’t spend the night kissing or doing any of the other things I’d worked up to. Instead, Dillon just held me like he’d done the night of the charity ball. And I hoped it would be enough to sustain me for the rest of my life.

             
The next morning, I heard Dillon get out of bed and kiss me on the cheek, but I pretended to still be asleep. I listened to him take a shower and dress and heard his keys jingle as he picked them up from the table.

             
When I heard the door click shut behind him, I clutched his pillow to my face, inhaled his scent and wept.

Chapter Twenty-One

             
It took me until late afternoon to drag my sorry ass out of bed. I still wasn’t quite ready to face the light of day but I wanted to start on a charcoal sketch of Dillon while he was still fresh in my mind. I would allow myself to capture him one last time before letting go forever.

             
On my way to the kitchen, something white on the table by the door caught my eye.

             
It was Dillon’s envelope.

             
He didn’t take it with him. Did that mean our last time together was a freebie?
Was
that our last time together? If it were, wouldn’t he have said something along the lines of goodbye? Thanks for the memories. Have a nice life.

             
Deep down, I
knew
last night was the last time I’d feel his arms around me. I could feel it in my gut. Hadn’t he already told me he was retiring? Hadn’t he made it clear he was ecstatic about not escorting anymore?

             
My head reeled with unanswered questions.

             
For some reason, even though I already had Dillon’s phone number programmed into my phone, I had bookmarked the website where I first found him thanks to Michelle. Out of curiosity, I pulled up the site, scrolled up and down the page, but couldn’t find his picture.

             
He was gone.

             
Dillon Milano was not only gone from my life, but he was gone from the internet.

             
The space between “Bentley” and “
Dre
” where Dillon had been before was now occupied by a new escort named “Jack”.

             
It was true then, not that I hadn’t believed him, but it felt more final somehow after not seeing him on the website.

             
Dillon, my best friend and confidant, was gone and so was any chance I had my getting laid.

             
I wondered how I was going to tell my father that Dillon and I “broke up”. Just like the story of how we’d met in the gallery, I’d have to weave a dishonest tale of how we just didn’t have enough in common or how things just weren’t working out.

             
I could already see the disappointment on my father’s face. He wouldn’t be disappointed
in
m
e
, but
for
me, which was probably just as excruciating.

             
I didn’t sleep at all that night, but stayed in my studio working until my fingers were covered black in charcoal.

             
Since I’d already painted Dillon in color, I decided to capture him with a different medium. I purposely didn’t use color this time so that it didn’t distract from the strong lines of his features. Charcoal allowed me to develop the deep tones of his image and capture the depth of his muscle tone.

             
There were more options with charcoal. I could smudge and smear the lines with my fingertips to give shading under the cheekbones, mouth, chin, nose, eyes and hairline. I darkened the outer corners of the mouth to give the illusion of depth. And finally, I filled in deep shadows to give the sketch dimension.

             
Using my fingertip, I blended the edges and softened my last stroke over the textured paper.

             
When I finished, I was left with a triptych, a three-piece panel set of Dillon’s body split into three different sections. Head, torso and legs, pieced together to form a whole body portrait.

             
When I stood back to survey the finished pieces, I thoroughly liked what I saw. Short of reaching out and touching me, the sketch spoke to me. It captured his essence. When I looked at it, I could feel Dillon’s strength, his masculinity.
His warmth.

             
God, I would miss him.

             
I bit back the tears and walked out of my studio. I wouldn’t cry for him anymore.

             
While I was washing the charcoal from my hands in the kitchen sink, there was a knock at the door. Which was strange because I hadn’t ordered room service and Frank hadn’t called to tell me anyone was on their way up. I frowned and dried my hands on a towel. I was still frowning when I opened the door.

             
When I saw who was standing on the other side, my jaw dropped. Somehow, my drawing had come to life and was standing right in front of me.

             
Dillon pulled me into a brisk hug. “Surprise!” he said into my neck.

             
I was flabbergasted to say the least. For one, I never thought I’d see his handsome face again after yesterday. And two, he’d never shown up at my door without me calling him first.

             
“What are you doing here?” I asked when he released me.

             
He frowned. “I thought you’d be happier to see me. You got another guy in there?” he joked, peering around the corner into the kitchen.

             
“No
,
of course not.
I just…I didn’t think you were coming over today.”
Or ever.

             
“Change of plans.” He clapped his hands together in delight. “Dig out your passport and pack your bags, baby. We’re going to Tahiti!”

             
“What are you talking about?”

             
“You got a suitcase?”

             
“Yeah.
In the closet.”

             
He moved passed me and I followed him through the bedroom and into the walk-in closet.

             
He was crazy. He had come back into my life like a tornado and he was asking me if I owned a suitcase.

             
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the doorjamb. “Dillon, what are you doing?”

             
“Come to think of it, you probably won’t
be needing
any clothes,” he said, pulling my suitcase down from the top shelf. “Just grab your purse, throw your bikini in it and let’s go.”

             
I tugged on his shirt, desperately trying to get his attention. “Dillon, please. Tell me what’s going on.”

             
“We’re going to your island,” he said and walked out to set my suitcase down on the bed.

             
“We’re going to
Bel
Ange
?” I asked, following him back into the closet.

             
“Yeah, that’s it. You say it a hell of a lot better than I do.” He started searching through the racks of my clothes and I put a hand up to stop him.

             
“You did this? You arranged for us to go to
Bel
Ange
?”

             
“Yeah.”
He dropped the hand he had been resting on one of my sundresses. “Well, your dad helped out. He made all the arrangements.”

             
“You spoke to my father?” Dillon had spoken to my father
on his own
?

             
“Yeah.
He’s a nice guy. He’d bend over backwards for you,
Livi
.”

             
“Wait, what exactly did you two talk about?”

             
“I just asked him more about the island and suggested that we take a little vacation. He said it would do us both some good and I agreed. Now is the perfect time because next week I’ll be busy with the gym stuff and then supervising the remodel.”

             
“Wow.” It was all I could say. Wow.

             
Dillon anxiously checked his watch. “You’ve got about twenty minutes.”

             
He went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. “Anything you need in here?
Deodorant, toothpaste?”

             
I hurried in behind him and shoved him out of the way. “I’ll pack my own stuff, thanks.”

             
“All right, all right.
Well, make it snappy. The private jet is being fueled and someone named
Sisilia
is already there stocking the place with groceries.”

             
I smiled fondly at the familiar name. Jeez, I hadn’t been to the island in at least eight months. Of all the places in the world I’d been, it was my favorite by far. It was breathtakingly gorgeous, peaceful and best of all private and secluded.

             
“Wait,” I said, pointing a stick of deodorant at his chest. “I thought you said you were retiring.”

             
“This isn’t a job,
Livi
. We’re going on vacation.”

             
My hands started to shake as I began filling my travel bag. We were going to
Bel
Ange
.
Dillon and I.

             
Alone.

             
I wanted to dance a little jig in the closet, but there wasn’t time.

             
Two minutes later, while I dug through my dresser looking for my swimsuit, it hit me.

             
We were going to
Bel
Ange
to have sex.

Chapter Twenty-Two

             
On the way out the door, exactly fourteen minutes later, I handed Dillon an envelope with his check inside, but he refused to take it.