The Photographer (Ignazio Boschetto Fanfiction)

Chapter 40

Chapter 40

          The next day and in the days that followed, Ignazio was his usual happy self. His eyes shone brightly with playful excitement, he joked around with me and the other boys, and he was silly and cheerful. There was no trace of the night in the dim New York hotel room, and I almost forgot about it…almost.

          A few times I asked him to explain himself, but each time he distracted me or brushed me off. When I finally got frustrated and I cornered him and demanded an explanation, he became serious and tender, and he took me into his arms and told me not to worry. He said he was upset about something he had to do, but he had done it and now wanted to forget about it for a while. I asked what it was, but he kissed me and wouldn’t answer me, telling me softly not to worry about it.

          I was busy covering the tour anyway, and it felt good to once again be traveling with the boys. I was engrossed in my work, and occasionally I went out and did some landscape photography when I had finished the things I wanted to accomplish. The Il Volo fanbase was still rapidly expanding, and many people at the concerts told us eagerly that they were new fans.

          Everything was and fun and exciting, though I did pick up on some strange minor occurrences. Occasionally I would catch one of the boys watching me, just silently observing me, but when I asked them what they were thinking they would just shake their heads and refuse to answer. Michele and Barbara complimented me on my work as they normally did, but seemed to be trying to demand my attention, willing me to take in what they were saying. Even though the touring was hectic, Ignazio insisted on taking me out on a few short dates in the early days of February.

          One evening in February only a few days before Valentine’s day, I was taking pictures at a Chicago Il Volo concert when the boys decided to surprise me. I had just gone backstage carrying my camera after taking some pictures when Barbara intercepted me and turned me around. She ignored my protests and marched me to where I could see the boys. A song had just ended, and instead of introducing another, they had their own ideas of what they were doing next.

          “Tonight we’d like to pay tribute to someone very special to the three of us,” Gianluca said, his voice reverberating around the stage.

          “We’d like to recognize an ambitious, amazing person, who never ceases to do everything she can to get us the best she can get,” Ignazio picked up. “She’s always working, always picking up new ideas and running with them, and always devoting herself to us and her work.”

          I stared open-mouthed as they continued telling the huge theatre of people about how much this person meant to them, and I was standing on the side of the stage watching from behind the curtain.

          “Even though she’s not one who typically likes to be onstage…,” Piero said, “We’d like to bring out our photographer, Tamzin Montgomery!”

          Ignazio was jogging over to me, beaming, and Barbara took my camera out of my arms so he could take my hands and pull me onstage.

          “Ignazio!” I said anxiously, looking up at him, but he wrapped an arm around me and led me out onto the stage, where hundreds of people applauded me, to my embarrassment. The boys all hugged me and told me they had something to show me, and as the crowd murmured and stirred excitedly, they turned me around to face the gigantic screen on the stage. At once, a video began to play, images and clips of me they had taken on their phones throughout our time together, along with samples of my work. Ignazio took my hand and held it tightly, and Piero took my other one, pulling me away from the crowd and helping me to focus on the video. “Questo Amore” echoed throughout the building, and I stared up at the screen in speechless awe.