Chapter Five
Nash
While his neck pain wasn’tsolved, so to speak, he was functional, and it was all because of Rory and his infinite kindness. When juxtaposed against when he left Nash’s bed in the middle of the night and never spoke about it again, something felt incongruous. Rory had always been so fuckingsweet.
It was hard to move on from his heartache when he was wrapped up in someone else’s love story. The welcome party was abash, and while it was nothing compared to what the wedding would be, there were so many reminders that these two people loved each other. He watched a slideshow of photos from their relationship out of the corner of his eye as he took candids of the guests.
At the other end of the dining room, Rory was taking portraits of all of the guests he could. It was classier than the normal photo booth situation at most of the weddings Sam and Nash photographed. There were no oversized sunglasses and feather boas. They had an emerald-green chaise lounge to sit on one at a time or in pairs or groups, with a velvet backdrop and some decor to make it look like they were in some rich person’ssmoking room, instead of the corner of the large dining room at an Italian villa on a vineyard.
Rory was in all black, as was Nash, big smile on his face as he chatted with guests and directed them to move a hand, or turn their body one way, while continuing to look forward. He got smiley happy portraits alongside serious ones, and watching him work was distracting to Nash, who was used to being able to work so seamlessly with Sam that he barely had to think about him.
A group of kids was running around the room, bringing chaos and giggles, and Nash snapped back to attention. He captured photos of the toasts from Bailey’s parents, and many of raised glasses. At an event like this, he enjoyed having only one camera hanging off of him. For the wedding, he would be lugging two around all day, to have lens choices. His back was not looking forward to it.
He and Rory got to sit to eat dinner quickly, which was much fancier than any food Nash was used to eating, and then Rory did another half hour of portraits before they were able to dip out. The party would continue on without them, and they hustled out of the dining room into the cool night. After a room full of people, a borderline chilly evening was perfect.
“What now?” Nash asked.
“I’m fucking starving. I feel like I ate one fancy roasted…beet or something.”
Nash laughed. He wasn’t starving after dinner, but he also wasn’t full.
“Can we go find some pizza?”
“Absolutely pizza.”
“Do you think they have Dominos?” Rory asked, smirk on his face. This would all be easier if Nash could look at Rory and not think about what their own wedding would have been like.
“I think if Dominos came here, they’d be stoned by the people of this fine city. I’m not sure how to even get pizza.”
“There’s a pizza restaurant on the grounds.”
“Fuck, this place is huge.”
Rory sighed. “Tell me about it. I got lost last night so bad.”
“You did?”
“I ended up in a spot without cell service and then got turned around. Had to find a hill in order to find the main buildings. You’d think it would be impossible to lose sight, but there were so many trees.”
Nash resolved to not let Rory wander around alone at night again. “I’m sorry I didn’t go with.”
“It’s all good. I could tell you needed some time to yourself.”
Sometimes being seen for who he was stung. He didn’t want to needtime for himself.
They headed back to their room to drop off equipment and get changed out of their black clothes they wanted to remain nice-looking for the next day.
It was chilly out with the sun down, and Rory pulled his blue hoodie he’d worn on the plane back on, unzipped over a graphic tee, pushing the sleeves up to once again show off his forearms. Nash was a simple man. He was not immune to forearms. He looked away as they headed over to the pizza place.
It was more crowded than he would have thought for later in the evening, but they got a table for two outside, and in the Italian countryside, Nash felt like he was on another planet. Ohio didn’t look like this, or smell like this, fruity and floral. The pizza spot was noisy with happy chatter in several languages. A guitar player played an acoustic guitar in the corner of the patio, the strummed notes creating a soft wash of sound.
Maybe Nash didn’t regret getting on that airplane.
They got wine, and the dull ache Nash had carried in his neck all day faded into the background of his consciousness. It waseasy to people-watch instead of chatting as they ate their pizza and drank their wine. One glass, because they had to be up early the next day.
Just as Nash was about to ask for the check, a couple got out of their seats to dance in the grass by the guitar player. Then a second couple joined them.
“You should join us,” one of the dancing men said, swaying his wife in his arms.
