Her phone blinked with a text from Bret. She looked outside. Bret’s truck was stopped in front the coffee shop.
She gathered her latte and purse and waited outside.
“Hey.” Selena cautiously climbed up onto the seat of the high lifted truck. She decided to ease into the conversation, hoping Bret had calmed down from the previous night. “Did you have a good night?”
Bret looked more relaxed then he had yesterday. A loose polo shirt wrapped tightly around his bulging biceps. Dima had nice, lean, toned arms but nothing like Bret’s strong muscles. Selena turned her head away from him and stared out the window—afraid he would read her mind and know that she was imagining what his pecs and abs must look like underneath his shirt.
“Yes. Just ordered pizza, then watched a Warriors game with Banjo. Perfect night. And my neighbor is watching Banjo today so he won’t be lonely.”
“Neighbor? A lady I presume? One night in town and you already have a new girlfriend,” Selena teased.
“Yeah. She’s a looker. Old enough to be my mother, though, but I guess that’s the in thing these days. Hey, you should get yourself one of those boy-toys that are all the rage.”
Selena forgot how witty Bret was. “Not my thing. When I’m ready to be in a relationship, I’d like to find a homegrown man—one that likes football and drinks craft beers. I’m so sick of watching hockey and drinking vodka.” Why was she flirting with him? What was wrong with her? A sharp pang of guilt gripped her when she remembered that just the other night she’d entertained the thought of getting back together with Dima.
“Good luck with that, Selena. Any American man wouldn’t put up with you dancing with Dima, having your ex run his hands all over your body. And you will never quit dancing until you win Blackpool.”
She clenched her teeth. “No, I wouldn’t quit my dance partnership. But dancing isn’t cheating. The emotions aren’t real. It’s just like acting.” Winning the Blackpool professional Latin championship had been her goal since she was a little girl. She and Dima had finaled three times and each year they were closer to winning the title. Even when they ended their personal relationship, they still competed together. Nothing could stop them. They had spent ten years training for this goal; what sense would there be in starting over from scratch?
“Well, maybe not 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 any guy.”
They pulled up to the Quintanas’ house. Selena blinked back tears. When the truck stopped, Selena jumped out and slammed the door. She couldn’t understand why she was so upset. Why did Bret’s irrational judgments bother her so much?
She jogged up the front stairs to the door. She would focus on training Xavier today and call Dima after practice. If we could come visit her like he offered, then maybe she could gain some clarity and everything would be back to normal. Like it had been before Bret reappeared into her life.
Waltz
“May I have this dance?” He led her to the floor, careful not to step on her flowing gown. He took her in his arms and they glided through the ballroom. Though she was hesitant at first, she relaxed into his strong hold. Flitting, effortless, as if she were floating on clouds. Dancing around the room, she couldn’t help but smile. This was how she danced in her dreams.
Chapter Eleven
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, Bret was impressed. Robyn worked very hard and had an excellent sense of rhythm, not to mention killer legs. He had taught her rumba walks and cha-cha timing. He wasn’t sure yet what their first dance would be, but he wanted her to have a head start on the Latin dances.
“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 Bret 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. Bret didn’t wish to see her eliminated, but he had to admit it would be so much easier to focus if she wasn’t around.
Robyn caught Bret’s eyes as he gazed at Selena. “So what’s the deal with you two, anyway? Have you kept in touch over the years?”
Bret had planned a standard answer regarding his relationship with Selena just in case anyone in the media asked. But he wanted to be honest with Robyn. He turned off his 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 hadn’t seen each other since, until a few days ago.”
“Well, if you two are soul mates, you will find your way back to one another. If not in this lifetime, than in the next.”
Bret swallowed and hoped the camera didn’t catch his look of disgust. There was no next lifetime for him. Though he wasn’t raised with a faith, he’d become very religious when he was in Iraq. There, he attended church every week and even had a tattoo of a cross on his back. Every day during his most recent deployment, he and some of his men prayed Psalm ninety-one. They suffered no causalities. He believed in one life, one God, one Heaven. He only had one chance to do things right.
“We aren’t soul mates. We were both very young. It’s clear now we have nothing in common and very different beliefs.”
Robyn’s beautiful lips curled. “Maybe you are meant to learn something from each other. We don’t always fall in love with someone who is like ourselves. It would be too easy. I’m from a very different background than Xavi. But he completes me, and I’ve experienced such amazing growth from him. Twenty years together and we’ve raised three beautiful children.”
Bret was pleased that their marriage seemed to be the real deal. He had hoped that he wouldn’t be paired with a cheating Hollywood housewife that would look at him like a piece of meat.
“You two are very lucky. I hope to find that someday—once I get out of the Marines. But it won’t be with Selena.”
Robyn put her hand on Bret’s knee, but not in a creepy, seductive way. More motherly. “Bret, you can’t choose your path. You should just be open to your surroundings.” She stood up, walked to the stereo, and turned off the music. Selena and Xavier stopped dancing. Xavier looked as if he might fall to the ground.
“Please, Bret and Selena. Would you both care to join us for lunch?”
The tears that Selena had shed earlier had long since disappeared but she still wouldn’t look at Bret in the eye. “Sure. I’m starving.” She gave Xavier a quick encouraging hug.
Robyn led everyone to the redwood deck, and went inside the French doors to bring out lunch. Bret was also impressed that he hadn’t noticed any maids or cooks at the home. Selena had been right; celebrities in Marin were very humble. At least Xavier and Robyn were.
Robyn brought out a pitcher of iced tea, a plate of sandwiches, and a bowl of pasta salad. Everything looked delicious, though Bret noticed that there was no meat to be found.
He piled his plate. “Thank you, Robyn. You didn’t need to do this.”
“It’s my pleasure. The sandwiches are hummus, avocado, sprouts and tomatoes, and the pasta is organic, gluten free, and vegan. Enjoy.”
The food tasted great and surprisingly filling.
They ate quickly and engaged in a meaningless conversation about the show. Robyn went to get dessert and Xavier followed her into the house.
Bret and Selena stared out into the three-tier rose garden.
“Sorry
about earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Bret offered.
“It’s fine. You made a good point. It’s a hard lifestyle for others to accept. I understand. It would be so much easier to be involved with my partner.”
“What happened with you and Dima?”
Selena pushed the last piece of pasta around on her plate. “Well, we didn’t start dating until a year after you and I broke up. I wasn’t over you, I guess.”
She looked up at Bret, but he didn’t give her any reaction so she continued. “Anyway, we started dating after we won the U.S. National Professional Rising Star Championships. It was really great for a while and we got engaged. But once we were cast on the show, everything changed. We never saw each other since we were spending all our time with our celebrities. And then we started fighting about the tabloid rumors. So we decided to take a break, but we left open the possibility of getting back together one day. That was three years ago.”
“Well, it’s none of my business. But I doubt it was ever an equal relationship. He was our coach, Sel. He started training you when you were eight and he was twenty. It’s just weird.”
Her nose twitched. “Yeah, you’re right. But as you said. Who else would want to date me with my lifestyle?”
“Maybe you need to reevaluate your lifestyle and make sure you are living the life you want. You always wanted children. Even when we were kids ourselves, that’s all you’d talk about. You aren’t getting any younger. Just don’t want to see you miss out on something that was so important to you once.”
Selena turned to Bret and placed her hand on his thigh. A warmth shot through Bret’s body. She had a tear in her eye and she didn’t even bother to wipe it away. “I did want children, Bret. With you. I knew Dima wouldn’t make a great father. He gets frustrated with kids. You remember how he was with us. Always yelling at us when we made mistakes. Kicking our feet ‘til they bled. No patience.” She took a deep breath. “I just don’t know what I want anymore. My life has changed so much since back when we were together. But I need this title Bret. I could get kicked off the show tomorrow. My mom sacrificed so much for my dancing lessons. All those competitions and costumes weren’t cheap. I have to pay her back. If I win Blackpool, I’ll be able to judge.”
A few more tears stained her face. Bret wasn’t sure what to do but his instinct to comfort her took over. He pulled her toward his chest and just held her. And he didn’t want to ever let go.
Chapter Twelve
Selena picked up Dima at the San Francisco airport that Friday. After her emotional talk with Bret, she told Dima that she needed to see him and he cleared his schedule. He was also excited that since there was a ballroom competition in the city that weekend, he would be able to teach some lessons.
She was halfway to the terminal to greet Dima before she realized that she needed to use the bathroom. Darn. She looked at her watch. She didn’t want miss him. Busting left, she cut around a corner and made a beeline to restrooms. She ducked into the ladies room, freshened up, then dashed back out again, making a left in front of the men’s room—running smack into two guys making out.
“Oh! Sorry, guys,” she mumbled and looked down at her feet, shielding her face from embarrassment. “I totally wasn’t looking.”
“No worries,” she heard. His buddy cracked up and they ran into the men’s room, covering their faces.
No worries? I know that voice!
She whipped her head back for a look and saw Eric and some man plowing through the restroom door. Not that she needed to see—she knew Eric’s voice when she heard it. Eric, as in Nicole’s husband. Good God! The couple with the only perfect ballroom marriage. He had been their original coach for five years before she met Dima; she just knew that was Eric.
He must’ve been in town for the competition. Where was Nicole? Selena practically stumbled to the baggage claim.
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’re Cinderella and Prince Charming—if their love wasn’t real then there was no hope for the rest of the dancers. Nicole gave up her career to have a baby with Eric. Whenever Selena doubted that she could have a successful relationship and a dancing career, she always came back to “if Eric and Nicole can make it work, so can I.” What did this mean?
Selena wanted a drink. She scanned the baggage claim for Dima. No sign of him. Good, she needed to process what had just happened.
There was no way Nicole knew. This was so bad. If the fairy tale wasn’t real, then what was the point of it all? The only men she’d ever been with in her entire life were Dima and Bret. Even though she and Dima were not romantically involved, in some way she figured they would always end up together. She felt bound to him. They had ownership in dance studios, free clothes, even endorsement opportunities for fitness products. It was all she ever dreamed of—ballroom dance, love everlasting, the whole pretty package. Was that just an unrealistic fantasy that didn’t fit anymore? But what if she gave up any possibility of having a family and it didn’t work out? What then?
“Selenichka.” Dima greeted her with a big kiss and a dozen red roses.
Selena fidgeted. She knew he’d been acting strangely when she last saw him at her house. Dima could definitely be romantic when he wanted to be. He was dressed in his finest Armani suit. He looked so handsome, but in a completely different way then Bret.
She thanked him for the flowers and tried to push the image of Eric out of her head. “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.”
They made their way to the curb. A limo whisked them away from the airport. Inside the limo, they took in views of the city.
He put his arm around her. “Selenichka, this is going to be great weekend.”
Selena cuddled up to him, though her stomach felt queasy. They worked so hard, she had forgotten how special he could make her feel.
He had made reservations at Selena’s favorite restaurant, Gary Danko. She indulged in caviar, lobster salad, branzini, five cheeses from the cart, and even the chocolate-caramel mousse cake. Not once during dinner did Dima make a comment about sticking to her diet. They drank a rich bottle of Paul Meyer merlot. Though the dinner was divine, Selena wondered how many more exquisite dinners she needed. She loved to have a night on the town, but the thought of cooking tacos in her home with a baby tugging on her leg made her smile.
After dinner, they strolled around Fisherman’s Wharf. Of course, they were recognized by some fans, and happily signed a few autographs. But on this night, Selena wanted Dima all to herself.
They made their way to Ghirardelli and ordered huge mugs of hot chocolate and sat inside at a tiny marble table.
As the warm cocoa coated her throat, Selena grinned ear to ear. Though Dima and Selena’s chemistry on the floor was electric, their true feelings toward each other were more familiar than sexy. And maybe that was what was important for a long lasting relationship. She and Bret had nothing in common anymore. His presence had just rattled her.
“Selinichka, I’ve been thinking. I should get back together with you and we get married.”
She almost choked on her hot chocolate. “Married? Are you crazy? We’ve been broken up for three years, and you want to get married?”
“I do. I think it would be good for our result. The judges like to see the couples who marry win.”
Selena’s heart sunk. Before she jumped to any conclusions about Dima’s motivations, she tried to calm herself down. Maybe she’d misunderstood him and his words had become lost in translation.
She tried another approach. “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 r
esults? 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.”
Selena knew Dima wouldn’t understand her point. She tried another approach. “Maybe after Blackpool, we can take some time off—from competing and the show. See if we can reconnect as a couple. We can go travel around the world like we always wanted and not be forced to pack up every two days to go to the next competition.”
Dima’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? Take some time off. That is ridiculous. We placed third in Blackpool last year. And Fabio and Gia will retire this year. This is not the time to lose focus.”
“Forget it.” She looked down at her feet. Drawing up all her courage, she added, “Dima, do you ever want to have children?”
Dima stirred his cocoa. He lowered his voice. “No. I don’t. I love the kids, but it isn’t right for us. We have too many goals.”
There it was. After ten years of maybes, next year, when we retire, Selena finally heard the truth. She wasn’t shocked—she’d suspected he felt this way for a long time but he had never come out and admitted it.
Her lips quivered. She wasn’t angry, just heartbroken. He had promised that if she dedicated her life to him and dancing, they would start the family she always wanted. Especially since he had lured her away from her life with Bret.
She got up from the table and snuggled next to Dima on his one-sided booth. “Dimka, I 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 for the rest of my life if I don’t have a family.”
Love Waltzes In (Dancing Under The Stars) Page 8
