Chapter Three
Nash
In their regular business, Nash relied on Sam for a lot ofthis stuff. The chatting, the smiling, the charm. He had just gotten through his first international flight, realized that he would have to share a bed with the man he’d never stopped desiring, but who didn’t want him back, and now he had to be the customer service version of himself. Life was pain.
“Sam and I made the shot list before he wound up in the hospital,” Nash said, pulling his iPad out of his bag. He and Rory were sitting across from the wedding planner and the bride at a table in the empty dining room. Dinner service hadn’t started yet. “But we also thought you might have some good ideas for iconic locations.”
“Yes,” the wedding planner said in accented English. Carlotta was maybe ten years older than Nash, with dark hair in a French twist, and a determined set of her brows that saidbusiness.“Our regular photographers have several spots they normally get family photos, and a few other more adventurous spots for portraits of the couple. By the vineyard is a popular choice.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you had regular photographers,” Nash said. Sam had made this job sound like they were doing thiscouple a huge favor. Of course there were already photographers in Italy. Why the fuck had he come all this way?
“It’s been important to Bailey and me,” Olivia, the bride, said, “to incorporate as many queer vendors as possible. Especially since our relationship can look straight from the outside.”
Sam mentioned the bride and groom were both bisexual, like Sam. The ferocity with which Sam had fought to photograph this wedding made Nash feel like maybe he kissed the groom at one point, when they were playing high school football together. Or, when Sam was on the JV squad, watching from the sidelines as Bailey threw touchdown passes.
“It all felt like fate when I showed you two, well, you and Sam,” Olivia said to Nash, “to Bailey, and he recognized Sam from high school. Supporting a queer business that is also local to Columbus, even if we were having our wedding over here, was important. Especially since we’re settling in Seattle. We wanted to honor Bailey’s roots.”
“And we appreciate it,” Nash lied.
“We work with outside photographers all the time,” Carlotta assured them.
The four of them talked through the schedule for Friday and Saturday, where he and Rory were expected and when. Friday they had the welcome party/rehearsal dinner, but Saturday would be an all-day affair, starting with the bride and bridesmaids getting ready in the morning, all the way until 10 p.m., when official photos would stop. Anything they wanted to capture after Nash and Rory left would have to be on phones.
On a normal night, that would be fine. With a six-hour time difference from Columbus, ten o’clock had the potential to be brutal.
They were invited to the brunch on Sunday, but wouldn’t need to photograph it. And then they would head to the airport to go back home.
Nash would be praying for the weekend to be over soon if that meant anything other than another long flight. He could feel the cabin pressure in his head already.
After nailing down where they needed to be and when, they headed out to the grounds, where Carlotta drove them around in a golf cart, and Olivia told them which areas spoke to her the most. Italy was beautiful, and Nash wished he could make himself have a good time. But between the time difference and the knowledge that he would need to fall asleep next to Rory that night, he couldn’t force a brave face for one second past the professional interaction they just had.
“I need a shower,” he told Rory when they got back to their room. They needed a break from each other so Nash could do something other than think about Rory’s eyelashes.
The bathroom had wainscoting and patinaed brass fixtures. He showered in a claw-foot tub, and after, he dried off using the microscopic towels that every hotel had, before mustering the courage to rejoin Rory.
“I had the concierge help me order takeout. I figured you’d be hungry and probably wouldn’t want to go anywhere. Maybe that’s just me. I’m fucking wrecked, and just hoping to feel halfway normal tomorrow.”
Nash hadn’t even realized Rory was feeling the travel day the same way he was, but of course he was.
“Thank you.”
“When it gets here, I was thinking I’d go to that spot by the vineyard and eat mine. Maybe bring my book. You can come if you want. Or you can stay here and have some time to decompress.”
“I’ll stay,” Nash said, regretting it instantly when he watched Rory’s face fall. Rory wore his heart on his sleeve, which was endlessly endearing to Nash. One of the things he’d noticed about Rory the first time he met him when he stayed withSam’s family for spring break freshman year of college. He knew he was being prickly. Knew that things between them could probably be normal if he let it. But then he would remember what Rory felt like in his arms the one night they had together, and how it clearly meant something different to Rory than it had meant to Nash. And yeah, that made him grumpy.
Rory took his turn in the shower, and when he got out, the food arrived. He’d ordered two different pasta dishes and let Nash choose one. At some point in the last eleven years of their lives, their paths had crossed enough times for Nash to know Rory had an eternal devotion to ravioli. Nash chose the cacio e pepe.
Rory pulled a tattered paperback out of his backpack, and told Nash he’d be back in an hour or so. Nash grabbed his iPad and found a movie he’d downloaded for the plane, but didn’t get a chance to watch. Then he pulled out his phone. The Wi-Fi wasn’t good enough to FaceTime, but he could send messages. He had a handful from Sam, who wanted all of the details so far.
Nash wished he could tell his best friend about the boy problems he was having. Get a pep talk, or have him say that no man was good enough for Nash like he usually would. But Rory wasn’t just some guy. He was Sam’s little brother. For years Nash had imagined telling Sam about the fictional relationship between him and Rory that he’d dreamed up long before they ended up between the sheets together, and whether Sam would react kindly. It was just a thought experiment though. He never thought it would become a reality.
And then last summer, when Sam and Maddie got married, Nash and Rory had shared best man duties. They ended up spending a lot of time together that week, and the night of the wedding, they were just tipsy enough. After a whole day of flirty looks from Rory, Nash cornered him away from the crowd and kissed him. He remembered Rory sayingfucking finallylikehe’d been waiting a lifetime for Nash to make a move. When Nash invited him up to his hotel room, there was no hesitation.
And in the morning, Nash woke up alone.
Sam
Are you feeling confident? I’ll do all the editing, I promise. I even sent film with Rory, so I can pull real prints for them too, as an apology.
Intellectually, Nash knew everything was going to be fine. The couple wasn’t upset. Nash hadn’t lied when he said Rory had helped them out before. He wasn’t brand new to cameras, and he wasn’t brand new to weddings. But he wasn’t as experienced as Nash let the couple believe. Regardless of how he felt about Rory as the man who left a hefty boot print on his heart, he still thought highly of him as a person. Whatever decisions Sam and Rory’s parents made in the '90s had worked out, as far as Nash was concerned.
Nash reassured Sam, and going through the motions of finding ways to bolster his best friend begrudgingly made him feel slightly better.
The pasta was incredible, and as always, when Rory went out of his way to be kind to him when he was being an asshole, he felt like shit about it.
He fell asleep while watching the movie, neck in a weird position, before the sun even went down. Rory wasn’t back yet.
