on their right hands. Ugh, I was sure Bret thought Dima and I were together.
“Dima got it free from a jeweler who wanted his rings seen on the red carpet. It’s not an engagement ring. I mean, it was, but we aren’t engaged. We aren’t even dating right now. It’s just a gift.” When the words left my mouth, I realized that Bret must think I was awful. I took a nervous sip from my water bottle.
Bret scowled at me. “Whatever you say, Selena. Dima makes hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, and he can’t even buy you a ring himself? Hell, I was making five hundred a week at Best Buy and saved up for months to buy you a ring. Not that you appreciated it. The fact that his ring doesn’t even mean anything to you makes it worse.”
My cheeks warmed. “I didn’t say it didn’t mean anything to me.”
“What’s the point of a huge diamond ring if you have no intention of ever getting married? Oh, I forgot—you don’t want that simple, I think you once said boring, life. But it’s cool. I’m sure we’d be divorced by now.”
My throat burned. “It wasn’t easy for me, either. I loved you, but I was only eighteen, Bret. It was heartbreaking.” I blinked back tears, remembering what I’d given up. I considered coming clean and revealing the real reason I had ended it with Bret but didn’t have the courage. “I wasn’t about to give up my dreams and become a teenage housewife. And I needed to keep dancing to support my family. What would I do on some base in the middle of nowhere while you were fighting wars nine months out of the year? It would’ve never worked. We were too young. If you wanted to settle down so badly, why aren’t you married?”
He looked away from me. “I never met the right woman.”
Ouch.
“It’s fine. I don’t want to get married. Not until I get out of the Corps. I’ve seen so many divorces, and many of my buddies’ wives cheat on them while they’re deployed. Then again, many of my men cheat, too. Broken families. Kids never see their dads. Plus, even if I found a great woman, what if I died over there like Pierce did? I’d leave a young widow and my kids without a father.”
After all these years, I had hoped Bret had found the family life he’d always craved that I couldn’t give him. At least that’s what I told myself. To hear that Bret was still alone and had given up hope made me sad.
“You can’t live your life like that. What happened to your friend was awful, and I feel so sorry for his family. But that doesn’t mean the same fate would await you.”
The truck accelerated, nothing drastic, but enough for my water to spill. Banjo jostled in the back.
After a few songs in silence, Bret relaxed into his seat. “So, where do you live? Some gated Beverly Hills mansion? Are there going to be paparazzi waiting for us?”
“Why? Hoping for the cover of People?”
“No. I just don’t want the Marine Corps to charge me with adultery, with your deep commitment to Dima and all.”
“I told you we aren’t together, Bret.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Sharing a room, kiss on the floor, huge diamond ring.”
Red brake lights blinded me, and I was too tired to focus on anything. “It’s not like that, and you know it. You know how ballroom partnerships are. A kiss on the floor means nothing, it’s just acting. We book a room together because it’s easier to keep all our costumes together. Most times, he ends up crashing at another one of the dancers’ rooms anyway. And I already explained to you about the ring.”
“Well, don’t you have an excuse for everything.”
Why was he such a jerk to me?
“Anyway, soldier boy, no, there won’t be any paparazzi. It’s not like we go around ringing them up and saying, hey, come over, I’ll give you a good shot. Jesus, Bret, not everyone on the show is some shallow fame whore. Some of us actually do it because we want to dance.”
“First off—Marines aren’t soldiers. Marines are Marines or warriors. Army has soldiers.”
I laughed. Bret was so uptight. “Sorry, Marine.”
I gave him the address, and Bret plugged it into his navigation system. My gaze zeroed in on his large hands, bulging veins, and confident hold on the steering wheel. A fleeting thought entered my sleepy mind, blowing past