Short Stack - Lily Morton Page 0,57

decision when we’re ready.”

“Will that be before you draw your pension?”

He smiles. “There’s no rush. I’m spending my life with him already. We’ll know when the right way presents itself.” He steps back. “You look amazing.”

I run a nervous hand through my curls as I glance down at the charcoal-grey Hugo Boss suit which I’ve worn with a white shirt and a black-and-grey patterned tie. “Do I look okay?”

Dylan nods emphatically. “I’ve known you most of your life, Jude, and I can honestly say that you’ve never looked better.” He smiles. “However, I think the same thing when I see you in Devon with Asa dressed in old jeans and a hoody.” He brushes one of my curls back. “It’s happiness, babe. You wear it so well.”

Asa comes towards us. He looks amazing in a three-piece suit the same colour as mine and with his hair pulled back from his face in a messy bun.

“My, my, look at how Asa has accessorised for this very special occasion,” Dylan says, blanching at Asa’s now-blackened eye. I groan. “No, seriously, Jude, is this what all the well-dressed men are wearing this season?”

Asa laughs. “It was a sex-related accident.”

I punch him lightly in the side. “Asa,” I hiss.

Dylan is laughing uproariously. “I’m putting this in my speech.”

“You’re making a speech?”

“Yes, at the lunch afterwards. It’s not been formally requested, but we all know that after a few glasses of champagne I will be making one.”

“Duly noted.” I nod solemnly. “Make sure that I come across quite butch in the story, will you?”

“I’ll make you so butch The Rock would blanch,” he promises and I nod happily.

“Have you seen Dean?” Asa asks.

Dylan nods. “Gabe’s got him stashed around here somewhere. He tried to witness an earlier marriage, but we managed to extricate him before there was too much trouble. The bride’s father was getting a little irate.”

I laugh and Asa groans. “Is he stoned?”

Dylan purses his lips. “Hard to tell, because I think he’s pretty much the same either way, but I think not. He was very insistent that he has to do a good job today because you asked him.”

“Aww,” I say as Asa tries to hide how pleased he is.

I turn at the sudden sound of clicking and blink as I see Ivo, his camera held to his face, taking photos of us. “What are you doing?”

He pulls the camera away. “Are you seriously asking that question? I’m baking a cake. What does it look like?”

I blink. “I have a war photographer taking my wedding pictures. Why is this not surprising?”

“Looks like you might need one,” he says, looking at Asa’s eye and taking a quick photo.

Henry comes up behind Ivo. He’s dressed in a sand-coloured suit with a sky-blue shirt and tie that I’m sure is Tom Ford. With Ray-Bans covering his eyes, he could be a model. I look closer – a hungover model.

“Jesus, you look terrible.”

He sips from his takeaway coffee cup. “Hmm, this is what happens when one of Ivo’s mates blows into town. Even the godlike perfection of my looks suffer.”

“But surely your complexion got some rest when you passed out on the floor in the living room,” Ivo says innocently.

Henry lowers his glasses and glares at his boyfriend. “I thought we agreed not to discuss that.”

Ivo laughs and snaps a picture of him. “You agreed. I wasn’t listening until I had my first cup of coffee. I’ve found that it helps my sanity now I’m with you.” He snaps another picture and looks in the viewfinder. “Oh, look at that,” he says happily. “You look like Angry Bird.”

Henry grimaces. “I’ll look like a psychotic bird if you keep taking pictures of me. Take one of the blushing bride instead.”

I shake my head. “Twat.”

“Asa,” comes a slow drawl, and I turn to see my old fuck buddy embracing my betrothed.

Dean looks gorgeous as usual, dressed in a steel-blue suit and with his long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. He and Asa are stepbrothers, and so look nothing alike, but they have a familiarity in their mannerisms sometimes that’s quite fascinating. I’ve seen them both rub their left ears when they’re thinking and wrinkle their noses before they laugh.

Asa steps back, and Dean turns to me. “Jude, babe, how have you been doing?”

“I’ve been—” I jump as he gives my arse a quick squeeze.

“I recognise this arse,” he exclaims loudly. “Still tight and peachy. I’ve spent a few happy hours in there.” He looks dreamily down