Short Stack - Lily Morton Page 0,58

at my lower half. “It’s almost like a beautiful holiday home,” he says slowly. “Like a luxury destination.”

An old couple standing nearby tut loudly and walk away.

Asa shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s a holiday home that isn’t renting out rooms anymore.”

“Renting!” I say indignantly. “I never bloody charged, Asa Jacobs.”

Asa laughs loudly, and Dean turns to me, taking my face and looking at my pores with small tuts of annoyance. “Jude, did you pack away your tweezers and any attempt at grooming, when you embraced monogamy? Who the fuck did your hair? Edward Scissorhands?”

I push him off. “Fingers off my pores, Dean. You know the drill.”

He grins good-naturedly. “Okay, mate. Married man and all that.” He turns to Asa and holds up one hand as if he’s in court. “I, Dean Jacobs, do solemnly swear that I am free of all herbal substances for the first time in ten years.” He pauses and stares into the distance. “It’s a bit strange…” He trails off, and we all wait for him to continue.

Eventually, Asa stirs. “Dean?”

“Oh yeah,” Dean says with a start. “I promise not to fuck Jude anymore. It would really come between us, Asa. Bros before hoes.”

Dylan snorts, and I glare at Dean. “And which one am I in this Jacobs conversation, Dean? Because so far Asa has implied that I charge for sex and you’re calling me names. This is not going well.”

Dean grins lazily.

I turn to Dylan, smiling as I find him hugging Gabe. The stark style of his black suit, white shirt, and red tie accentuates his looks.

“Looking good, darling,” I say to him.

“I’ve tried to downplay my natural gorgeousness in a vain attempt not to overshadow you on your wedding day, Jude,” he says, smirking. “I can’t say that I’ve been particularly successful.”

I laugh and hug him, loving how he returns the gesture with only a small trace of the hesitation that used to make him as stiff as a board if anyone attempted a cuddle. “Thank you,” I say softly. “The gesture is much appreciated.” I turn to Dylan, who’s observing us with one eyebrow arched wryly. “Are my mum and dad here?”

He nods. “Your dad’s in the waiting room talking to someone about the atrocity of Londoners buying holiday homes in Devon and decimating local communities.” He shrugs. “We might have to rescue the chap in a bit. Your mum took Billy to the loo.”

“Is he okay?” I ask immediately.

He grins and opens his mouth but whatever he means to say is drowned out by a shout of “Pa,” and I turn just in time to catch Billy as he launches himself at me. I lift him into the air and kiss him quickly. “You okay, mate?” I look him up and down. “Wow, you look good, Bill.”

He makes a slight moue of disgust, looking down at his outfit of grey trousers, white shirt, and red bow tie. His expression seems to indicate we’ve asked him to roll around in cow shit. Knowing my prospective stepchild, he’d probably be happier doing that. “Don’t you like your suit?”

He rolls his eyes, looking so like Asa he makes my heart clench. “It’s not very soft,” he says and then, obviously thinking he’s going to hurt my feelings, he pats my face gently. “But Grandma says the more I walk around in it, the softer it’ll get and look. She let me wear my real shoes.”

My lip twitches as I look at the tiny red Pac-Man Converse hi-tops. “I think that makes the outfit better,” I say solemnly.

He gives his wide gappy smile. “I love you, Pa,” he whispers. “Grandma says you’re getting married today?”

“You still okay with that?” I ask softly. I need to hear this on the most important day of my life. He nods energetically, and my heart softens. I know he’s going to say something soppy now and melt my heart.

“I’m getting used to it,” he says judiciously. “I’m very happy, though,” he adds quickly. “Because Peggy made a massive blue cake with yellow icing and it looks mega. And Daddy says we’re having crackers at the meal afterwards.”

“Christmas Crackers?”

He nods enthusiastically. “They’ll go bang, and we can wear hats.” He spreads his arms out. “I’m so happy.”

I shake my head and burst out laughing, hugging him to me. “That’s the most touching thing you’ve ever said to me,” I say solemnly, lowering him to the ground as he wriggles.

“What does saying a touching thing mean?” he