The Swan and The Sergeant - Alana Albertson Page 0,49

dependents would be two thousand a month. So that could maybe work when we get married.”

Selena spat out her water. “Married? Was that your version of some proposal? And don’t worry about the housing prices, I can handle them.”

My lips burned, and it wasn’t from the wasabi. “No, Selena, when I propose, you’ll know it. And it sure as hell won’t be in a crowded restaurant. But let’s cut the crap. Marriage is where this is heading, right? You didn’t just ruin your dancing career to have a fling with me, did you? We’ve said I love you. You want kids and a family. I didn’t just pick you up the other night at a bar. We have a past. And hopefully, a future. Plus, I’m a Marine. If we aren’t married, you won’t get any benefits.”

Selena’s chopsticks pushed around the fish on her plate. “Sorry, Bret, I didn’t mean that. I’m just so overwhelmed. Please forgive me. Of course, I’d love to eventually get married and start a life with you. I’m just really worried about the tabloids. They’re already having a field day with this story. They’ll paint me as a vixen in some weird twisted love triangle.” She paused, and her lips parted. She shook her head as if she changed her mind about what she was going to say. “Who knows what other lies they’ll make up?”

What had she wanted to say? Was she hiding something? I kept my concerns to myself.

Selena continued. “It will be awful. I just know it. And I don’t want to scare you away.”

She was right—everything she said. What had I been thinking? Being on the show was one thing. I’d agreed to do it for my friend. Being a tabloid kicking toy was another.

My mind raced. This could ruin my career. Would they interview my friends and family? Would they twist my motive for going on this show as a devious attempt to get Selena back?

“Bret, babe, we can make it through this. I can talk to my publicist. But we just have to plan it.”

“I refuse to be made the laughingstock of the Marine Corps.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m not going to lie. We didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not embarrassed by you.”

She squeezed my hand. “Perfect. I’ll contact my publicist and see what our options are. We will probably have to give an interview. It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

I tossed a piece of hamachi into my mouth. She was in the public eye, I knew this.

“Fine, Sel. I’m in. Just tell me what to do.”

I knocked back another sake bomb, but my gut twisted. I thought Selena would be thrilled to talk about the future, but she panicked. There was something she wasn’t telling me. I had to find out what she was hiding.

Bret

The alarm clock on my phone went off at four a.m. Selena and I had another long day ahead of us. I wanted to get on the road by five to skip the Bay Area traffic and start our journey down to Los Angeles.

I turned my phone alarm off and noticed a missed call and a voicemail from Ray. He was probably just calling to tease me again about my outfit from the first week—I’d already been fielding insults from my buddies since the show aired last week.

“Lord, Nia just showed me an article online about your scandalous affair with Selena. By the way, you looked like a fruitcake in that getup. Give me a call when you get a chance.”

What the hell?

I googled my name, something I never thought I’d do.

Headlines popped up, one after another. Radar Online, People, Us Weekly. I clicked through the articles. Each carried a version of a heartbroken Dima finding out about Selena and me. Some included pictures of Selena and I dancing on the show, one even had my boot camp picture. Nothing shocking.

But then something caught my eye.

“A source close to the situation said that Bret and Selena broke up as teens after Selena cheated on Bret with Dima at a dance competition.”

I slammed the computer shut. It was a tabloid, so it was probably not true.

Even so, heat rose in my chest, and I had difficulty breathing. I always assumed that Dima had seduced her, but I was dumb enough to believe that it had been after Selena and I broke up.

But the thought that she had cheated on me had consumed me at the time.

I had been so lonely in boot camp—the thought of