Page 147 of The Bartender Special

Fun too.

The head chef in charge of the catering for the estate, one of his favorite people to work with, had even gone as far as to praise the event, a rare but gratifying occasion. There had been some misty-eyed moments from the chef too, peeking out as the bride and bride walk-out included both sets of parents on either side.

It had been full of love.

It had been special.

Benny had expected the sight, the feeling, would hurt a little.

It hadn’t.

Which had been surprising.

Or maybe not.

He’d smiled at the noise of the room and had been one of many to yell in joy as the women got into their limo and drove off once everything was said and done.

Now, Benny was back in the main hall, trash bag in hand and staring at the wooden archway still standing at the end of the room.

The bag crinkled as he twisted his fingers along the plastic.

He didn’t sigh because he’d sighed enough in the last week.

He’d sighed when he’d finally stepped foot back into his apartment, sighed when his neighbors had converged to make sure he’d seen all the new articles and videos about him, and he’d sighed right before he’d finally answered another phone call sent out into the ether by Rizzie Chaplan, literary agent extraordinaire.

The One Who Said Nothing was no longer a chronicle of a man too afraid to tell someone he’d loved him. It was a journey of someone who had been too afraid of pain to live at all. To love fully, to connect.

And it was about finally doing just that.

Jumping off that cliff, hitting the ground, and deciding that it was okay to walk away.

“Let me tell you something that no one else in this industry will tell you. Happily ever afters in love never really need the second person,” Rizzie had told Benny after he’d recapped everything. “We just want to know that our person will be okay, that they’ll be happy with their choices. You took a chance, it didn’t work out, but there’s a beauty in that, Benny. You did the thing. And now everyone wants to know what you’ll do next.”

Rizzie had told him she needed to have some more conversations before she could tell him what that meant from her. Benny understood that. Carol’s crystal-clear recording of Benny and Jack’s conversation in the auditorium had made The One Who Said Nothing trend even wider than before he’d gone to Arbor Bay.

He wasn’t sure what that meant either.

He did know that watching the video himself had made him feel a lot of things.

He wasn’t sure exactly what those things were, but he at least could pinpoint the painful parts.

The urge to complain to Jack about it, to recap his favorite and least favorite comments that he’d accidentally read, to ask him to make Benny a drink, had been coming and going in waves.

He’d almost called the bartender once, twice—okay, five—times since being back.

But the look of hurt on Jack’s face before he’d walked away stayed his hand.

Forcing a happily ever after would never make any special days.

It would never make the normal ones beautiful either.

Benny would just have to hurt.

Then, one day, he would heal and figure out where to go next.

Benny nodded to no one and bent down to grab a discarded program from beneath one of the seats.

It was an awkward angle. He had to twist around to try to reach it. His arm wasn't long enough, but he was finding himself to be more and more stubborn these days. He put the trash bag down and went lower in another attempt, determined.