Page 87 of Winging It with You

Someone who was supposed to be standing on this stage next to me.

“Wait! I need to talk to Asher Bennett…I have something to say.” Clint’s overly enunciated voice booms from somewhere behind the production team.

The silence after Clint’s interruption is deafening.

No one says anything, but I can see the confusion rippling around those closest to me. Jo, who disappeared after leading us to the stage, steps into my line of sight, a worried expression painted across her face.

Straining to see anything beyond our spotlight, I hear someone whisper, “Quiet on the set.”

I hear people struggling, the scuff of their shoes on the wood of the platform below.

And when he finally steps into my view, I see the man who left me at the airport.

The man who, just weeks prior, obliterated my entire world and turned his back on me.

“Asher, I made the biggest mistake,” Clint says, straightening his bunched-up shirt, a small sign that someone at least tried to stop him. Truthfully, I can’t tell you the last time I thought about Clint, but as he steps in front of me, close enough that I can smell the cologne I bought him for our last anniversary, every emotion—sadness, bitterness, resentment, abandonment, rage, relief—comes flooding back, sending my nervous system into a state of shock. I instantly freeze.

“What? Clint, I don’t know what you’re doing here or howyou even knew we’d be here…” I look back at Dalton, at the smile spreading wickedly across his face. “But this is not the time—” I can barely get my sentence out before he interrupts me.

“Just give me five minutes, Asher…five minutes,” he pleads. There’s a desperation to his voice—one I don’t think I’ve ever heard before. He takes my silence as his cue to continue.

Why is he here and why isn’t anyone stopping this? Shouldn’t a swarm of production members or security be descending on him by now? But taking one look at Dalton’s smug face—standing there with his arms crossed as Jo and several others appear to be urging him to do something—tells me that no one is going to stop this, becausethisis gold for them.

Dalton wants this.

A spectacle.

“Asher, letting you walk away was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done and there’s absolutely no excuse for it,” he says, clasping his hands together aggressively. He’s aged—or maybe he’s always looked this…exhausted and miserable? Seeing him now reminds me just how blind to my own unhappiness I was for all these years, and a wave of regret washes over me again for wasting so much of my life on a man who didn’t value me. Especially after spending this time with Theo.

Theo!

He’s still got his hand in mine, but he’s looking down, and I don’t have to be a mind reader to know that he’s crawling out of his skin right now. This is the most embarrassing and cringe-worthy moment of my entire existence, and I think everyone in this room can feel that. Glancing around at the faces surrounding us, I see a mixed bag of emotions—confusion, shock, concern.

“What we have—what we had…” he says, correcting himself. “It’s something that is deserving of a second chance. It’s worth fighting for.Youare worth fighting for. I want our old life back. I want to go back to the way things were before that stupid moment at the airport when everything changed for us. Can we please go back to that?Please?”

Never in a million years did I think I’d see the day when Clint would resort to begging—especially for a man…he’s always had this confusing air of superiority to him. His eyes gleam with sincerity, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he genuinely believed the words coming out of his mouth, which under previous circumstances would have moved me to tears.

But now?

I feel nothing. A deep and permanent numbness now lives where anything remotely resembling love for Clint used to be rooted. I feel…indifferent.

Iknowin my heart that what I had with Clint is something that I would never return to. It was monotonous and surface-level and truly only benefited him.

If I’m being honest, it was painfully boring.

“Clint, please…let’s just…”

But per usual, he ignores me and turns to Dalton instead. “Now,” he says, which prompts Dalton to whisper something to a nearby PA. Stepping forward once more, Dalton seems to be resuming his hosting responsibilities despite the chaos Clint’s arrival has caused.

“We’ve got quite the surprise planned for you, Asher.” Dalton’s announcer voice returns. I watch in horror as the oversize television screens spring back to life one by one, revealing thelast faces on earth I would want subjected to this shit storm. “We couldn’t let your family miss out on this beautiful reunion!” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dalton this happy—he’s beaming and practically floating on a very visible cloud nine.

Thiscannotbe happening.

My father has a pained expression on his face and his arms crossed, either confused or annoyed.

My younger brother looks bored, like he’d much rather be watching college basketball than whatever his dweeb of a brother has gotten himself into.

And my poor mother, with her hands clasped over her mouth, does her best but fails miserably at not letting every emotion have its turn on her face. She quickly waves when we make eye contact, but I knowshe knowsthis is the worst thing that could be happening to me.

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