We were the proxies in their long-distance cold war. But at the end of the day, when I took off my pointe shoes and Vincent hung up his football boots, we were their children again. Asher didn’t have that. “If it makes you feel better,” I said. “I prefer Asher to Asher Donovan.” The former was a person; the latter was a brand. I was indifferent about the brand, but I liked the person. A lot. More than I should.
