The Swan and The Sergeant - Alana Albertson Page 0,22
was in love with me.
I crawled out of bed and stepped onto the ice-cold marble tile. A quick shower, and we’d embark on the rest of today’s journey.
I emerged from my bedroom and poured myself a cup of coffee from a fresh pot that Bret had brewed. My nostrils tingled, and when I took a sip, the warm liquid soothed my throat.
Once I could focus, my eyes fell on Bret, who sat on my sofa reading a book. Banjo lay by his feet. The sight of him, relaxed and comfortable in my house, threw me. Had I made a different choice, this could be the setting of my daily life. Bret making me coffee, reading before he headed to work. Maybe getting the kids ready for school. My gut clenched.
“What are you reading?”
Bret glanced up at me. “Oh, just some war book.” He closed the cover. “You ready? We really need to get going.”
“Yeah. Let me finish my coffee, and we can bounce. Where are you staying up there?”
“My dad bought a houseboat in Sausalito. He lives with his new wife up in Washington, so he said I can stay there while I train.”
“How cool! I’ve always wanted to live on a houseboat. To have the ocean rock me to sleep. I used to babysit for a family who lived on one.”
Bret stood up and took the keys out of his pocket. “It beats staying in a hotel. Hotels remind me of the barracks. Let’s get a move on.”
I made my way to the sink to rinse my coffee cup. An engine hummed outside the window. That was weird—the gardeners weren’t supposed to come until Tuesday.
I peeked out the kitchen window. A bright yellow taxi stood out front.
The front door opened. “Selenichka!”
Banjo barked and scampered out of the kitchen.
I dropped my coffee mug. The ceramic shattered on the floor, and Bret and I stared at the little shards.
Nothing had happened between Bret and me last night, but even so, I felt uncomfortable with Dima finding Bret here.
Because Dima was the reason I broke up with Bret.
Dima walked into the kitchen. His mouth opened when he saw Bret crouched on the floor with me, gathering the pieces of the mug.
“What’s going on here? I call and text to you all the night. Benny gave me name of hotel, and they said that you did not go to there.”
Uh-oh. I had seen the texts, and I’d intended to text him back, but I just had been so exhausted.
I could see Bret staring at the house key Dima was holding. Another item that made it look like Dima and I were still together. Who could blame Bret for thinking that?
I grabbed the dustpan under the sink. “Dimka, I’m sorry. It was just so late—”
Bret reached out his hand to Dima. “Hey, Dima. Sorry about that, it’s my fault. We were supposed to drive all night, but I was tired, so Selena said I could stay in the guesthouse. You guys danced great last night. Congrats.”
I knew that Dima would never settle for a handshake. He probably still saw Bret as his little disciple. He embraced his old student. “Bret, great to see you, my friend! I thought you go to the war?”
I breathed a sigh of relief as I swept up the ceramic shards. Dima stood with his shoulders relaxed and his feet wide apart. Did he feel a pang of jealousy knowing that Bret spent the night in my house? Even though Dima and I weren’t together, deep down, I always thought that Dima figured I would take him back at any time. But that wasn’t true, though I had figured that in some ways, Dima was my only option.
Bret pulled back from the hug. “I did go to war. But I’m back now. Just doing a season to raise money for my friend’s family. He was killed in Iraq.”
Dima seemed impressed by Bret’s selflessness. He sat at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee. “This friend of yours. How much money does his family need? I could give to you now. Selena and me, we would love to help.”
There Dima went again—flaunting his money around. Maybe he thought he could buy Bret off, so he wouldn’t have to worry about me getting close to him.
Bret shook his head. “Thanks, Dima, I really appreciate your offer, but I got this. And I’d love to stay and catch up, but we really need to get on the road.”
“Sure, it is no