Chapter Twelve
Rory
Being home made everything feel more real. They landed in Columbus in the evening, after far too many hours of traveling. By the grace of God, Rory's checked suitcase made every stop with them flawlessly.
“I can’t keep my eyes open,” Rory complained.
“I need a nap.” Nash looked completely wiped. Rory took his hand and squeezed as they waited around the luggage carousel.
“What does this look like over here?” Rory asked, giving Nash's hand a tug.What do we look like over here?
Nash dropped his hand so he could wrap his arm around Rory's shoulder. He pressed a kiss to Rory's temple. “Like this?”
Rory let out a sigh of relief. They were on the same page now. They’d talked about it and agreed. He could relax.
“Do you want to come over?” Nash asked, spotting Rory's suitcase and darting forward to grab it from the carousel. “Stay over? One less rideshare.”
“Yeah,” Rory agreed. He’d never been to Nash's apartment before. Plus, he wanted to soak up every second he could with him.
Nash managed the bags while Rory ordered a car. It was good that it was all over now, because Nash was asleep again by the time they made it back to his place.
“Wow,” Rory said, as Nash let them into the airy loft. It was one main space, with a bedroom and bathroom cordoned off. Living room, office, and kitchen commingled. Rory wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but this justfit.
“Is it forward of me to ask you to come to bed with me?” Nash asked, a yawn big enough erupting from him that Rory knew what kind of trip to bed this would be.
He let out his own yawn. Yeah, he was excited to see if Nash's bed was more comfortable than their Italian bed.
“I’m at Nash's,” Rory answered the next morning, his brother’s voice on the other end of the line. They’d texted when they landed, but now Sam was asking for details.
“You’reatNash's?” Sam sounded confused. Rory and Nash had slept for hours, and he still felt out of it. Nash was in the bathroom.
“Yeah, um, we had to pack some of our things together, since we ran out of space. Nash packs light. I had room. We only had to pay for one rideshare.”
“Hmm,” Sam said, an edge of suspicion to his voice. “I guess that’s convenient. I’m going to come over. I’ll bring breakfast. You two can tell me about Italy and show me the photos.”
Rory hung up as Nash came out of the bathroom.
“Sam is coming over.”
“Now?” Nash asked, an edge of panic in his voice. Rory felt the same way.
“It’s going to be fine. He said he was bringing food. He’ll be cool.” Rory was pretty sure that was true, but aside from interfering in his brother’s friendship, he was also potentially affecting his business.
Nash guided their mouths together with a thumb and finger on his chin and kissed him, making everything in the world disappear.
“Okay. He might be surprised, but it will be fine,” Nash said, taking his turn to reassure both of them.
Nash got his computer set up on the dining table, and Rory pulled out the bag of used film from his backpack to toss next to it.
Sam showed up with coffee and breakfast sandwiches forty-five minutes later, and demanded gentle hugs from both of them. “My surgery scars are woefully uncool,” he said. “Laparoscopy does not make it look like I was in as much pain as I was.”
“You can get some scars tattooed on later,” Rory suggested. They ate at the end of the table not covered in technology and film, and Nash, between bites, detailed the long weekend, retelling it as though they only existed when cameras were in hand. Sam took the news of the broken lens in stride. He had his eye on an upgrade he couldn’t justify buying when the one he had still worked.
“You’re going to lose it when you see the guest portraits Rory took.”
“Rory took the portraits?” Sam asked, like that job should have obviously gone to Nash.
“I resent your tone,” Rory said, rolling his eyes.
