“Oh! Sorry, guys,” I mumbled and looked down at my feet, shielding my face from embarrassment. “I totally wasn’t looking.”
“No worries,” I heard. His buddy cracked up, and they ran into the men’s room, covering their faces.
No worries?
I know that voice!
I whipped my head back for a look—and saw Eric and some man plowing through the restroom door. Not that I’d needed to see him; I knew Eric’s voice when I heard it. Eric, as in Nicole’s husband.
Good God! The couple with the only perfect ballroom marriage.
He must’ve been in town for the competition. Where was Nicole? I practically stumbled to the baggage claim, thinking of what I’d just seen.
Eric kissing a guy? Nicole would totally freak out if she knew. Or…maybe she did know. Oh, God, that was not possible, was it? They were Cinderella and Prince Charming. They were champions and had a family.
I needed a drink. I scanned the baggage claim for Dima. No sign of him. Good, I had to process what had just happened.
But this just further strengthened my belief that there were no healthy relationships in the ballroom world.
And I had pushed the desire to be loved away for so long. But I yearned for it now.
The only men I’d ever been with in my entire life were Dima and Bret. Even though Dima and I weren’t involved, Dima seemed to think that we would end up together. And though I didn’t have any romantic feelings toward him anymore, I felt bound to him. We had joint ownership in dance studios, a clothing line, even endorsement opportunities for fitness products.
Once, it had been all I’d ever dreamed of—ballroom dance, love everlasting, the whole pretty package until Dima dumped me. But now I knew in my soul that it was an unrealistic fantasy that I wanted no part in.
I needed to let Dima know that I was closing the door forever on us.
“Selenichka.” Dima greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a dozen red roses.
Roses? Of course, he brought me roses. He could sense that I was over his manipulation of me and was trying to woo me back. I wouldn’t let him.
Dima was definitely trying to woo me. He was dressed in his finest Armani suit. But I would not fall for his charms.
I thanked him for the flowers. “Do you know if Eric and Nicole are going to be at the competition?
“Only Eric. He was on plane together with me and his student. He’s judging. Nicole is home in Los Angeles, with the baby. Why you ask?”
“No reason. I just thought I saw him.”
We made our way to the curb. A limo Dima had hired whisked us away from the airport.
He tried to put his arm around me, but I pulled away. Dima was unfazed. “Selenichka, this is going to be great weekend.”
He had made reservations at my favorite restaurant my favorite vegan restaurant. I ate my weight in hummus, and not once during dinner did Dima make a comment about sticking to my diet. We even drank a rich bottle of Pahlmeyer merlot.
After dinner, we strolled around Fisherman’s Wharf. We were recognized by some fans and happily signed a few autographs. But on this night, I wanted Dima all to myself.
We needed to have a talk. The talk.
We made our way to Ghirardelli and ordered huge mugs of hot chocolate and sat inside a booth.
As the warm cocoa coated my throat, I grimaced. Though my chemistry with Dima on the floor was electric, our true feelings toward each other were more familiar than sexy. But I wanted passion, true love.
And more importantly, I could never forgive Dima for the way our relationship started.
I took a deep breath. It was now or never.
But before I could speak, Dima did.
“Selenichka, I’ve been thinking. I should get back together with you, and we get married.”
I almost choked on my hot chocolate. “Married? Are you crazy? We’ve been broken up for three years, and you want to get married?”
Marriage to Dima was the exact opposite of what I wanted.
“I do. I think it would be good for our result. The judges like to see the couples who marry win.”
Well, at least his proposal made sense. I knew he didn’t actually want a real marriage. But for a result and control, marriage seemed like a great idea.
To him.
Anger seethed inside me. “For our result? It would help, I know, but that’s not a reason to get married. I mean, we’re not even dating right now. Does everyone in this business only live their lives to get results? Today, when I saw Eric, he was kissing another man. What does that mean, Dima? Is he gay? Are he and Nicole only married for their result?”
Dima threw up his hands. “Why do I care who it is that Eric kisses? It is none of my business if he is a gay. He is the champion. I don’t see how their marriage is important to us.”
I knew Dima wouldn’t understand my point. “It’s not about them. It’s about us.”
Dima’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? I just needed a break from you, but we will end up together, Selenichka. We placed third in Blackpool last year. And Fabio and Gia will retire this year. This is not the time to lose focus. This is our time.”
“Forget it.” I looked down at my feet.
Dima stirred his cocoa. He lowered his voice. “I love you.”
My lips quivered.
I tried another approach. I got up from the table and snuggled next to Dima. “Dimka, I’ll always love you. You have been everything to me since I was a little girl. But I want to have kids. And I’m twenty-eight years old. I can’t wait forever. I will regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t have a family.”
Dima clutched my hand. “Maybe after we win Blackpool, we can discuss it.”
I didn’t want to discuss it. I wanted to end it.
A waiter walked by with a tray full of plates. One of the men at the next table erupted in loud laughter, clapping his neighbor on the shoulder. This wasn’t the place to do this. But it was the time.
“I’m sorry, but I have to give this back to you.” I slipped off my diamond ring. The day he had proposed at the Palace of Fine Arts had been one of the best nights of my life. Back then, I’d still believed in the ballroom fantasy and thought that Dima and I could have it all—success, a family, true love. I was younger then, and we had plenty of time to start a family. But I ached every time I saw a father playing with his kid. No amount of success would be worth the pain of not having a family. And I didn’t want to have a family with him.
He grasped the ring. “What does this mean, Selena? You are bound to me. We have contracts, competitions, products, videos, studios. You can’t leave me. I will wait for you to get ahold of yourself, and we can talk.”
“Dimka, we’ve been broken up for three years. You’ve been with women during that time. I never went on more than a few dates with anyone.” I felt strong. I’d been having doubts for a while and finally had no hesitation about my path. “You’ll always be in my life. We can still dance together and work on our projects. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me over the years. But I need to find myself. I don’t want to have any regrets.”
He pointed his finger at me. “This is about Bret. Have you slept together with him, Selena? Tell to me!”
“How could you ask me that? You and I aren’t even dating, and I never cheated on you. Ever. I never questioned you about all the rumors with your celebrities. And, not that it is any of your business, but nothing has happened between him and me. This is about us. I want a family. I want children. I don’t want to marry you.”
“Fine. It is over. You won’t make the fool out of me.” He got up and stormed out of Ghirardelli.
I prayed that no one had taken a picture that would end up in the tabloids.
I could’ve taken an Uber back to my hotel across the bridge, but I didn’t want to be alone. Before I could reconsider, I dialed Bret’s number.
“Hey,” Bret answered, sounding groggy.
“Bret, I’m s
tuck in the city. Can you come get me?”
He didn’t pause. “Of course. Where are you?”
Bret
Selena curled up on the sofa in the houseboat. I had offered to take her back to the hotel, but she asked to hang out with me. Her eyes seemed so sad that I’d relented and invited her in. She hadn’t said much on the ride over the Golden Gate Bridge, but I had a suspicion that her state of mind had something to do with Dima. I knew he was in town for the competition.
“I’m sorry, Bret. I shouldn’t have called you. I just didn’t want to be alone. Thanks for picking me up.”
I sat on my father’s leather recliner. She was vulnerable, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t take advantage of that. “Don’t worry about it. I’m always here for you.”
She started petting Banjo, who rolled over to get his belly rubbed. “I told Dima that it was over between us personally. Forever. He didn’t take it well.”
The hair on my arms stood up. Her relationship status shouldn’t matter to me. If I let her get too close, she would break my heart again. “I’m sure it was just a fight. Next year, you guys will be back together, planning a wedding. Televised worldwide.” I watched her face, expecting her to look confused and lost. But she looked determined, the way she looked before she was about to win a competition.
“No, Bret. Never. We’ve been broken up for years. And even when we were together, there were rumors about other women. I didn’t believe them, but I was never sure. And also . . .” Her face contorted.
“Also what?”
“Never mind.”
She was keeping something from me. My best guess was about how she had cheated on me with Dima when I was in boot camp. I was glad she didn’t finish—I didn’t want to hear about it.
She exhaled and finally continued. “But none of that matters. Dima’s a great dancer, but I’m not in love with him. For some reason, I always thought Dima and I would end up back together. Not because we were soul mates or anything. Just because our lives are so intertwined. And I never thought anyone else would want me. I still feel like that ugly, chubby teen who was teased. But you helped me realize that I deserve more than that. I guess what I’m saying is . . . I want you, Bret. Please give me another chance.”
Her heart-shaped face glowed in the reflection of the moonlight on the water. My heart beat strongly.
Even after all these years, was it possible that I still loved her?
Selena sometimes had her head in the clouds, but her bright outlook on life softened me. And she was never ugly or chubby to me. She was always perfect. Breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t just that I was attracted to her; I believed that she was the only one who’d ever really understood me. She was the one who had comforted me when my parents announced they were getting a divorce and when I had been taunted in school for dancing. In boot camp, picturing my future life with Selena had motivated me through the hard times.
But I couldn’t, wouldn’t risk getting hurt.
“It’s late, and you’re upset. I’ll always be here for you, Selena. As a friend.”
She came closer to me. “I don’t want to be your friend.”
The truth was that my words were empty—I didn’t want to be her friend either. The thought of another man, of that motherfucker Dima touching her, made my skin crawl.
“Tell you what, let’s crash and talk tomorrow.”
She nodded her head. I gave her my bed and slept on the sofa. I didn’t want to take advantage of her when she was so emotional.
Over the past ten years, I convinced myself that I had hated dancing, that I hated Selena. But I had allowed my rejection and hurt to cloud my memories.
Dancing with Selena again, experiencing that passion between us, shocked me.
I didn’t know if it was because we were in Marin or I had been away from the Marines, but I felt different.
I didn’t have a clue what was going to happen with Selena, but I was open to the possibilities.
Selena
Xavier bounced across the floor, hitting every beat. He seemed to dance so much better when he danced to his own music. “Work it, Xavi!” I yelled.
Xavier finished his routine and collapsed on the sofa. He was such a wonderful man—sexy, creative, great husband and father. I glanced across the ballroom and watched as Bret and Robyn practiced their samba.
When they finished, Robyn fanned herself. “That’s enough. I need some inspiration. Bret, could you and Selena demonstrate how it’s done?”
“Of course.” I shimmied over to Bret. We hadn’t danced together since his audition. But during the past week, I could feel Bret opening up to me. Nothing major, but he seemed to be less judgmental. I even got him to go to a yoga class.
He hadn’t kissed me yet, but I could feel the heat of his stare on me.
But I still hadn’t told him the truth about what happened between Dima and me when Bret was at boot camp.
I needed to get it off my chest, but I knew Bret would freak. He would probably murder Dima.
I pushed Dima out of my head. I needed to focus on the gorgeous man in front of me.
Electricity pulsed through my body. Touching Bret on the floor, connecting through dance without the awkwardness we shared during his audition, excited me.
I giggled. By looking at him today, no one would ever suspect he could dance at all. His muscular, broad frame hid the smoothness and flexibility of his body. It was like watching an action star do the ballet.
He whispered into my ear, “Why are you laughing, babe?”
“Because you are just so sexy. You don’t look like a dancer. At all.”
“That’s a good thing. No matter what, I’m not waxing my chest. I should’ve put that in my contract.”
“I won’t let them.” The makeup artists most certainly would try to convince Bret to wax his chest. Sure, all the male dancers’ pecs were shiny and bare. What was so wrong with chest hair? Was I the only woman that was turned on by Bret’s manly chest? I highly doubted it.
Robyn turned on one of Xavier’s hits, a samba. I gyrated my hips, and Bret grabbed me from behind. Gripping my wrist, he spun me into rolls, and our bodies rotated around the floor.
After all these years, Bret was as sharp as ever.
For a second, I allowed myself to indulge in the fantasy of us competing together. Would he ever consider it if we started dating again? Just to make me happy? We could stage a huge comeback. We wouldn’t win Blackpool anytime soon, but we could probably win Nationals in a few years. Well, if Dima didn’t get a new partner and compete against us.
And even if Dima did, if Bret and I were in love, we could beat Dima. Dima would never love anyone but himself.
The music cut off. Robyn clapped. “You two are brilliant! You should compete.”
I was glad that I wasn’t the only one thinking we looked great together.
“No way, Robyn. I’m just doing one season, and when it’s over, I’m not going to set foot on a dance floor. Except maybe at my wedding someday.” He winked at me.
A flatter filled my belly. Was he teasing me? I prayed that he was starting to have feelings for me again.
Robyn’s lips curled. “Wedding? Am I missing something? Are you two a hot item?”
I gave Bret a flirty glance. “I wish, but he has friend zoned me. But I do think Bret should consider competing again.”
Bret’s relaxed face tensed up. “No thanks, Sel. Would be kind of hard, after training my men twelve hours a day. And after this leave, I’m sure we’ll deploy again soon. No time for dancing.”
My shoulders dropped. But I knew it was a long shot. A girl could dream. For now, I would focus on how I felt when he held me. Would he ever kiss me again?
“Well you two are incredible. Wait here.” Robyn ran to the bar and poured champagne in four flutes. She brought them over and handed everyone a glass.
“Okay, here we go,” Robyn said. “To our success and journey into the world of reality television. May we be gui
ded by our ancestors. As one of my spiritual teachers once told me, ‘When you do what you fear most, then you can do anything.’”
A breathtaking view of the Golden Gate, Bay, and Richmond bridges wowed me as we toasted.
I glanced at Bret and was thrilled that he wasn’t even making a face to Robyn’s New Age toast.
I raised my glass higher. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Cheers.”
Before I could sip my champagne, Bret pulled me toward him. His mouth covered mine, and when our tongues touched, the taste of him made my body throb. Was this really happening? Ten years later, I was kissing my first love. The girl inside me squealed, the woman inside me hungered for me.
“Yeah!” Xavier exclaimed.
Robyn put her hands in a prayer position and nodded.
I looked up at Bret. “What was that for?”
“I waited ten years to kiss you again, Sel. I didn’t want to wait any longer.”
We kissed again as the fog crept higher on the world’s most beautiful bridges.
Bret
Kissing Selena was even better than I imagined and remembered. I couldn’t wait to get her alone.
I proposed a weekend getaway to the wine country. And Selena readily accepted.
After checking in and dropping Banjo in the hotel room, we pulled up to Mustards Grill in Napa. My father had often taken me here when I was a boy. It was my favorite restaurant—just good, hearty, all-American food without a hint of pretension.
The drive over had been pleasant. Selena now placed her hand on my leg while I drove, but we still hadn’t had the difficult conversation. We had a deep history. But could we have a future? We were so different. For now, I was enjoying being close to her.
“Bret, I love this place. So rustic. What are you having?”
“The calamari and the hangar steak. And a beer. You?”
Selena perused the menu. “A burger sounds good. I’ll have the mushroom and spinach burger.”
I laughed. “You realize that’s not actually a burger, right? It’s made out of vegetables.”
The Swan and The Sergeant Page 9