“I’m Libby, and this is—” The man across from us gives a little nod. “Nash.” I look from the man to Nash. “You two know each other?” “He wasn’t saying my name.” Nash never takes his eyes off the man. “He was introducing himself.” And suddenly, I realize: This man’s last name is Nash. He doesn’t seem overly fussed with our sudden appearance here, doesn’t so much as bat an eye. Like father, like son.
