To Love and To Cherish

Chapter 1: Elevators and Couch Surfing-2

“There’s no rush, Nash. Seriously.” Harley’s brows knit together in concern. “Oliver and I agree that you can stay as long as you need.”

“I appreciate it, but I know it’s an intrusion. Four months is long enough.”

“We really don’t mind, do we, Oliver?” Harley cast a meaningful glance toward his boyfriend.

Oliver sat up straighter and quickly replied, “Our couch is your couch. No problems here, man.”

Nash pasted on a smile and hoped it appeared sincere. “And a comfy couch it is.”

Harley winced. “Aw, no it isn’t. Sorry we don’t have anything better. I don’t blame you for wanting a real bed again, but ‘roommate wanted’ ads? Please, don’t.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Nash didn’t really want to take the gamble of rooming with a total stranger, but neither did he want to overstay his welcome—and after four months, surely he was beyond that limit. He supposed if the situation were reversed, he wouldn’t want to see Harley reduced to that, either.

He knew damned well that his presence put a strain on Harley and Oliver’s relationship. They did a decent job covering it, but how could it not?

Oliver apparently still felt the effects of Harley’s earlier glance and replied, “We’re sure. Heck, it’s not like you aren’t paying your way or anything. I don’t mind having a little extra while you’re hanging with us.”

“Okay. Well, I’ve put the word out among my friends at the hospital, and they’re all asking around for me, too. If anyone even three degrees of separation away from one of the hospital employees needs a roommate, it’ll get back to me.”

Oliver stood and began clearing the table, so Nash jumped up to help. He didn’t need his best friend’s boyfriend to have any reason beyond simply yearning for their privacy back to want Nash gone. “I’ve got it. You cooked, I’ll clean it up.”

Oliver didn’t need any further prompting to plop back into his chair. He quirked an eyebrow inquiringly. “Are you still looking for a job outside of the hospital, or did you move that to a back burner until your life settles down?”

Nash collected the dirty dishes. “No back burner. Private practice office positions are snapped up quickly. God, I’m getting too old for this ‘on-call’ shit.”

“Calm down, sweetie, you’re only thirty-four. There’s nary a gray hair on that lovely blond head of yours.” Harley combed his fingers through his own darker, short-cropped hair. “Meanwhile, I added at least a couple dozen more dealing with your wedding shenanigans this past spring.”

Nash grimaced. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciated your help and support.” That was the understatement of the year. Harley had been there within the hour when Nash and Sam had first learned of Henry’s survival and imminent return. Nash had desperately needed a shoulder to cry on. Sam had provided his, of course, but poor Sam had been a big pathetic mess of mixed emotions himself.

“Don’t sweat it. That’s what best friend s***h wedding planners are for, right?”

Oliver said, “I still can’t get over that s**t. What a crazy situation. You guys were a great match, too.”

“Yeah, I’m over it, though.” Nash scraped the remains on the dinner plates into the garbage disposal and sighed. “Ran into my former future-father-in-law at the hospital, today.”

“Truman?” Harley prompted.

“Yeah, visiting a friend, apparently. Invited me to join them over the holidays if I want.” Nash shook his head. “I may be over Sam, but I’m pretty sure I don’t need to be exposed to him playing super-dad to Buddy—or Aiden, or whatever the hell they’re calling the kid these days—with Henry smiling away at his elbow.”

Oliver returned Harley’s earlier meaningful glance. Uh-oh.

Harley cleared his throat. “Um, actually, we’re going to be driving down to Eugene over Thanksgiving this year to spend it with Oliver’s family. You gonna get enough time off to fly home to see yours?”

“s**t. No, I’m working early the next morning. Not worth it. I’ll go home for a few days close to Christmas, though.”

Harley screwed up his face, but had no reply. He was clearly torn. Oliver’s eyes widened, broadcasting alarm. It was justifiable concern, because Nash could practically see the wheels turning in Harley’s head, trying to find a solution that would take care of both his boyfriend’s and his best friend’s needs.

Nash didn’t want Harley to even consider changing their plans for the holiday. He was a big boy, dammit, and he’d imposed on them enough. More than enough. Frankly, he didn’t know how Oliver kept his cool.

“Don’t worry about me, guys, really. One way or another I won’t be alone. I can always switch shifts with one of the others who has kids at home. It’s not like the holiday means that much to me if I don’t have enough time off to travel anyway.”

Fuck, his life had gotten dreary. All he’d ever wanted was a man to share a mutual life and love, and provide companionship. Monogamy was a must, regular s*x was a reasonable expectation, and children were a want. Was that really too much to ask?

He’d loved Sam, there was no doubt about that. But he was over it after only four months. Meanwhile, Sam had taken years and a couple rounds of therapy to get over his loss when he’d thought Henry had died. Maybe Nash simply wasn’t capable of that depth of true love. Maybe it was time to reevaluate what he was looking for in a relationship.