Chapter Four
Rory
Rory woke up on Friday morning to the sounds of someone in pain. He wasn’t a morning person, but the time difference had fucked him up, and without knowing what time it was, or whether he was supposed to be tired or rested, he snapped awake.
“What?” Rory asked, rolling over to see Nash struggling to get out of bed, his hand on his neck.
“I’m the dumbest fucking person in the world,” he said, the upset rolling off of him in waves. He’d been so palpablysadthis entire trip, and it was eating Rory up. He’d wondered if Nash would have had an easier time doing this all alone. He knew he couldn’t shoot two people's worth of photos on his own, but putting up with Rory seemed to be doing a number on his body, mind, and soul. “I can barely move my neck.”
“Let me go explore and see if they have a heating pad you could use or something.”
Nash must have been in a lot of pain to not have argued about that.
Rory headed to the front desk, where Olivia was chatting with the hotel manager, a glass of sparkling wine already in her hand.
“Rory!” she cried, reaching out to hug him like they hadn’t just met. “What brings you out here this morning?”
“Oh, uh, Nash woke up with a crick in his neck, and I was wondering if there was a heating pad, or ice, or…anything that might help?”
“If they don’t have anything, I haveeverything. I have never been more prepared for a day in my life. Do you want a glass of champagne?”
There was a clock on the front desk that let him know it was barley past 9 a.m.
“I can splash some OJ into it. Then it’s breakfast.”
There was an appeal to that, but Rory was working that day. Alcohol and work did not mix for him. “No, thank you. But I’ll take anything you have that might help.”
The manager confirmed they didn’t have anything in particular that might help Nash, and Rory followed her to the best room in the entire hotel, where the bridesmaids were already all gathered. Olivia introduced him around like they were long-lost best friends, and Rory acquired two oxygen-activated heating pads that looked to be menstrual relief in nature, a miniature bottle of Advil, a selection of pastries for breakfast from a huge spread of food, and a glass of champagne for Nash that Olivia wouldn’t allow Rory to turn down.
“Oh, and take our couples massage!” she said, as Rory was trying to leave. “It’s at eleven, and it was part of the package, but we have too much to do today to carve out an hour. Someone should take advantage of it. I’ll call down now and let them know you’re coming.”
Some brides let the stress of the day get to them. And some turned into the world’s most generous people alive. He was sure the champagne helped.
The hotel happily switched over their reservation, and Olivia let them know it was complimentary.
When he returned to Nash with his spoils, he was in the shower.
“I got you heating pads and drugs,” Rory called through the door. He heard a mumbledthank you. Since Rory let Nash pick the pasta the night before, he chose the pastry he wanted. It had a drizzle of chocolate on it, and slivered almonds. He knew they didn’t have much time in Italy to themselves, but they had to prioritize pastry acquisition.
Nash came out of the bathroom in just pajama pants, stretching his neck out as he went. “Hot water helped,” he said, sitting down in the chair across the small table from Rory.
“Good. I got heat pads for menstrual cramps, but heat is heat. Advil. Olivia refused the possibility that alcohol at nine a.m. might not be a good idea, so the champagne is for you too. And that giant cornetto.”
“Fuck. Thank you,” he said, finally looking at Rory. His face was broken with pain, but for the first time in Italy, there was something other than annoyance there. “Really. You’re saving my ass here.”
“We’re a team this weekend,” Rory reminded him. He would never understand the inner workings of Nash’s mind, but it was clear Nash needed some kindness. Rory was good at that.
Nash ate and took some drugs, and then Rory helped him get the heating pad in the right position on his neck. He barely even flinched when Rory touched him, which was progress.
“Olivia also gave us the couples massage they had scheduled for this morning. She said they have too much to do, and we should take it.”
“Couplesmassage?”
“Free massage is what I heard,” Rory said. “Figured after the plane, and after whatever happened to your neck, it would be good for both of us.” Nash had a hard plane ride, but Rory was all legs, and there was nowhere to put them on any airplane.Airplanes were made with much smaller people in mind. He survived, but he didn’t have fun.
“Free massage,” Nash agreed.
This was…a mistake. The spa on-site was beautiful and serene. Their private room smelled like eucalyptus and dreamy music swirled around them. And the massage therapists were not fucking around.
