The Swan and The Sergeant - Alana Albertson Page 0,29

of Dima and you. And you dated, didn’t you?”

Dammit. Yes. When was I going to tell him why I had actually left him? What had happened that night with Dima and me. Didn’t he have the right to know?

But Dima had sworn me to secrecy. And no matter how many times I replayed that night in my head, I couldn’t come to peace with it.

“That’s different.”

“Really, Sel? How so? Because he groomed you?”

The heat shot through me. I wasn’t going to get into this with him now.

“That’s your opinion. When I’m ready to be in a relationship, I’d like to find someone my age who wants to settle down. One that likes football and drinks craft beers. I’m so sick of watching hockey and drinking vodka.”

“Good luck with that, Selena. What kind of man would put up with you dancing with Dima, having your ex run his hands all over your body, you two sharing hotel rooms together?”

“Whatever. Dima and I are just friends.”

“Really? Then text him now, ‘Let’s fuck.’”

I seethed. “You’re an asshole, Bret.”

“Never said I wasn’t. You’ll never quit dancing until you win Blackpool—right?”

I clenched my teeth. “Right. But dancing isn’t cheating. The emotions aren’t real.” Winning the Blackpool professional Latin championship had been my goal since I was a little girl. Dima and I had finaled three times, and each year we were closer to winning the title. Even though we’d ended our personal relationship, we still competed together. I had spent ten years training for this goal. What sense would there be in starting over from scratch?

“Well, maybe for you,” Bret said. “When we danced together, there was nothing fake about my feelings. Training a celebrity student is one thing. But competing around the world, traveling, sharing hotel rooms with another man, wouldn’t be acceptable. Not to me—not to most guys.”

We pulled up to the Quintanas’ house. I blinked back tears. When the truck stopped, I jumped out and slammed the door.

I jogged up the front stairs. I would focus on training Xavier today. I needed some clarity, and everything would be back to normal. Like it had been before Bret reappeared into my life.

Bret

The sunlight from the bay bounced off the mirrors in Robyn and Xavier’s ballroom. This room was normally used as their yoga/meditation studio, hence the crimson-colored velvet fabric draped under the ceiling.

“That’s it, Robyn. Four and one, two, three, four and one, two, three.”

Robyn’s hips shimmied across the floor. For her first day, I was impressed. Robyn worked very hard and had an excellent sense of rhythm, not to mention killer legs. I had taught her rumba walks and cha-cha timing.

“Thanks, Bret. This is so much fun.” Robyn grabbed her bottle of water and sat on the sofa.

Across the room, Selena trained a struggling Xavier. Unlike Robyn, he was clumsier than I had thought he would be. Selena sure had her work cut out if they wanted to final—or even make it past the first week. I didn’t wish to see Selena eliminated, but I had to admit it would be so much easier to focus if she wasn’t around.

I gazed at Selena. Robyn put her hand on my shoulder. “So, what’s the deal with you two, anyway? Have you kept in touch over the years?”

I had planned a standard answer regarding my relationship with Selena, just in case anyone in the media asked. But I wanted to be honest with Robyn. I turned off my mike, motioned for Robyn to do the same, and then sat next to her.

“We danced together for ten years until we were eighteen. We got engaged, and then I joined the Marines. We were supposed to get married after boot camp. But she left me and decided to dance with Dima. We haven’t seen each other since, until a few days ago.”

“Well, if you two are soul mates, you’ll find your way back to one another. If not in this lifetime, then in the next.”

I swallowed and hoped the camera didn’t catch my look of unease. I liked Robin and didn’t want to disrespect her beliefs, but there was no next lifetime for me. Though I wasn’t raised with a faith I became very religious during my first tour in Iraq. I’d attended church every week, and when I’d returned, I got a tattoo of a cross on my back. Every day during my most recent deployment, I prayed Psalm 91 with some of my men; we’d suffered no casualties. I believed in one life, one