The Swan and The Sergeant - Alana Albertson Page 0,8

shower, a vision I was trying to push out of my mind.

I ran my hand through my own hair. “I didn’t expect to run into you today. I wanted to make the show on my own, without any favors.”

“It’s not a favor. I’m thrilled to partner you. I never even thought I’d see you again.” She bit her lip, took my hand, and got into position. “Ready?”

“Absolutely.” I forced a smile but couldn’t look her in the eyes for more than a second. No matter how strong I was today, seeing her made my heart ache over how she had destroyed me.

After I’d returned from Iraq, my mom had started training me in secret. She was still a dance instructor and had rented a small studio in Oceanside to help me since I was stationed in nearby Camp Pendleton. I’d adopted Banjo, a pug/lab mix from the shelter on base, and every day after work, I would practice, then spend most nights escaping with Banjo to the dog beach to relax. Well, that and try to teach Banjo to turn off the lights, open the refrigerator, and fetch me a beer.

Being back on American soil, spending nights staring out at the clear ocean, I had regained my sanity and made peace with my time in Iraq. I had also enjoyed my last days of anonymity.

Now, my moment of truth had come.

Benny turned on the music. “How about a foxtrot?”

George Michael’s voice began singing “Feeling Good.”

I pulled Selena into my arms, just like old times. “Sounds good.” I adjusted her into a classic foxtrot hold.

Selena leaned her body against mine as I swayed her back and forth. We took a few basic steps, and I led her into promenade. I turned my head toward her and held her gaze this time. On the dance floor, all insecurities faded away. I was in control.

We had been “America’s Ballroom Sweethearts,” the entire industry pinning its hopes on our backs like a million targets. Our career was mapped out for us, with sponsors who funded our travel, our coaching expenses, our costumes. We’d been the future of DanceSport.

But I had wanted to do something honorable with my life, and she had initially supported my decision to enlist. And at the time, it had been a practical decision. Back then, there was no future in ballroom dancing. No television shows, no outside endorsements, no way to support a wife and family.

She said she’d wait for me, but by the time I’d graduated from boot camp, she was long gone.

She left me for Dima.

Her thumb hooked over my right bicep as we merged together. The thump of her heartbeat vibrated off my chest, just like the first night we had made love. It wasn’t right, to get caught up in the past like this, to remember her this way. But dancing had a way of doing that, grabbing on to any weak flame and igniting it.

I took charge and guided her through the steps. We flowed around the floor.

After two laps, Benny changed the song. George was now singing “Jesus to a Child.”

“Rumb-a, please,” Benny called out.

My fingers traced over Selena’s wrist. We began to dance a slow, soulful rumba.

Our rumba.

I pushed her away and led her into an overturned back break, and then pulled her back into me. My hands dropped around her tiny waist, and our hips melded together. Her body moved with mine, perfectly in sync. We had once danced as a boy and a girl. Now, we danced as a man and a woman. The back of my hand brushed her neck. A lock of hair fell on her cheek. My fingers traced down her body.

“I missed you,” she whispered as she wrapped her leg around me.

Missed me? She left me while I was away for three months, and before I’d even had a chance to chase her, she had run off to dance with Dima.

I’d missed her plenty—all those lonely nights of boot camp. Every time I got my ass handed to me by the drill instructors, thinking of her had given me a reason to push forward.

At first, she wrote me weekly, then the letters tapered off. She then sent me a final letter, ending our engagement, and telling me she had returned her ring to my mother.

When she didn’t show up at my graduation, I’d pushed her out of my mind. It had worked for a while—until she started popping up on television and every newsstand in the country.