The Wedding (Starting Over Book 3)

by Matthew J. Metzger

  “No issues?”

  Alcohol, creepy exes, depression, dysphoria…

  “Nope. New boyfriend is nice. Another teetotaller.”

  “Same reason?”

  “Nah. Health nut.”

  Kevin grimaced and Gabriel coughed a quiet laugh.

  “He’s got a low sex drive, though, so—”

  A dark chuckle was his only reply, and Gabriel grinned as it vibrated against his chest. Kevin was nothing like Aled. He was big. Over six feet tall, with shoulders as wide as a doorframe and a stern, sharp face that could be terrifyingly sexy under almost any circumstances. And the shadowed confines of an empty landing, with two massive thumbs hooked into Gabriel’s waistband and dipping dangerously into his briefs, was definitely the right circumstances.

  “You staying tonight?”

  “No. Maybe next week,” Gabriel said. “Aled’s left me sore.”

  “Good on him.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “You probably deserved it.”

  “I fucking w—”

  A hand snapped shut around his throat. Gabriel’s breath caught. A sudden shock of arousal crashed into his system. Heat flared as lips grazed his ear.

  “Mind your fucking language around my fucking kids,” Kevin breathed.

  Gabriel swallowed thickly. “Yes, sir.”

  He was slowly released. A deep breath did very little to clear his ragged thoughts. Kevin’s hand in his back pocket didn’t help matters either. He was sore, but—it hurt so good when Kevin did him. And he didn’t have work until two tomorrow. Logic and lust were warring in his head and one was definitely losing.

  Then logic lost as Kevin’s huge hand slid around the back of his neck and Gabriel was stretched upwards into an immobilising kiss, completely paralysed against the huge frame at his front. Kevin’s palm cradled his skull, and he felt fragile and breakable in that hard, heavy grip.

  “Stay the night,” Kevin whispered against his mouth.

  “Okay.”

  He was dropped. The landing was chilly. Then Kevin’s posture shifted almost imperceptibly—the spine bowed a little, the hips relaxed, the cold expression eased—and Gabriel’s pounding heart suddenly seemed inappropriate.

  “Nice to be home,” Kevin said. “I don’t think much of Spain.”

  Gabriel licked his lips. “Ma—Majorca not your thing?”

  “Too fucking hot,” Kevin muttered. “And Judith’s up the duff again, so I had all three of them to myself every morning while she was throwing up. Not much of a holiday.”

  He laughed shakily. “Put something on the end of it and you wouldn’t have this problem.”

  “She won’t let me,” Kevin whined. “She wants six. Six! Who needs six?”

  Gabriel snorted. “Dominant, my arse. She rules you.”

  “Any more remarks like that, and I will dominate your arse.”

  “Sure,” Gabriel said. He winced as a hand the size of a spade slammed into his backside with incredible force, jolting all the aching nerves from Aled’s latest game. The spark of pain made him think twice and he fled back to the kitchen for temporary safety.

  Lunch had been plated up. He slid into his usual seat and dug in with hopefully more grace than…well, Grace. She and Lily wore more food than they ate, but Gabriel loved the atmosphere. Kevin’s family were always happy. Loud and messy and sometimes exasperating and always unfathomable, but happy. Gabriel hadn’t grown up in one of those families. He only saw his grandfather and uncle nowadays and it was usually awkward and stiff. Lunch at Kevin and Judith’s felt more like coming home than lunch at Uncle Chris and Aunt Scott’s.

  “Next year will be a caravan,” Kevin said dramatically, spearing some penne on the end of his fork and waving it at his two daughters. “These two on a plane were a nightmare.”

  “Come to Cornwall with us,” Gabriel said. “Aled’s best mate is getting married down there next spring, so we’re taking a holiday.”

  “Oh aye?” Kevin smirked. “That’ll be you engaged by the summer, then.”

  Gabriel gave a dramatic shudder. “I don’t think so.”

  “I do. He thinks the world of you. He’ll have a ring all ready, you’ll see.”

  “He better not.”

  “Does Gabriel have a boyfriend?” Grace piped up.

  “Yup,” Gabriel said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I love him.”

  “But why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  “Because I love him, not a lady,” Gabriel said simply.

  She eyed him curiously for a moment, then returned to ensuring all the individual pasta pieces in her bowl were quite, quite dead.

  “What’s wrong with getting married?” Judith asked.

  Gabriel shrugged. He wasn’t anti-marriage, but…why? What difference did it make? Aled had been married and it had ended in a bitter divorce. Gabriel’s mother had never so much as dated any of their fathers, much less married them. Uncle Chris had married Aunt Scott, but nobody had been invited to the wedding and probably for good reason. Marriage just hadn’t been a thing for him throughout his life—and given his lifestyle, why add the complication? People made a big deal out of paperwork and wedding rings and Aled probably wasn’t going to be his only boyfriend for the rest of his life. What about Kevin? What about Chris? What did marrying Aled say about his relationships with them?

  “It’s not for me.”

  That was what it came down to. He didn’t want to. It was too many complications, too much money and no decent return. He’d gain nothing and just add a load of headaches to his life. And after the mess that moving in with Aled in the first place had been—coinciding with an abusive ex, a job loss and panicking about being homeless again—Gabriel was done with headaches.

  “It makes having kids much easier,” Judith said and patted her stomach. “Did Kevin tell you?”

  “You’re bonkers is what he told me,” Gabriel parried. “Anyway, me and Aled aren’t having kids. He doesn’t want any.”

  “He might change his mind.”

  “Doubt it.” Not to mention that he couldn’t. That was why he’d ended up getting divorced in the first place. His ex-wife had wanted a baby and it had turned out that Aled couldn’t produce the goods. On the plus side, it generally made it much easier to persuade Aled to part with the rubbers every now and then once they’d become a regular thing. Her loss, Gabriel’s gain. “I don’t either.”

  “And you might change yours!” Judith sang.

  Gabriel rolled his eyes but ignored the sting of the remark.

  “You can have my share.”

  “Don’t encourage her,” Kevin grunted.

  “We’re thinking of Leah or Leo for this little one.”

  “You’re thinking of Leah or Leo. They’re bloody awful. I still think Kevin or Kevinella are perfectly good—”

  “No.”

  Gabriel smirked into his pasta as Judith shot her master down. She was Kevin’s submissive and they did more in the way of lifestyle submission than Gabriel was comfortable with—Judith wore a GPS tracker on her chastity belt, and had to ask Kevin for money—but in a way, they were cut from the same cloth as he and Aled. She might be the submissive, but she owned him in reality, just as Gabriel held all the real power in his relationship with Aled.

  “What do you think?”

  Gabriel swallowed. “Sorry?”

  “Leo and Leah.”

  He glanced between Kevin’s exasperated expression and Judith’s tight jaw. He liked them. And Kevin wasn’t so keen. And after the little display on the landing…

  He shifted in his seat, adjusted himself and threw down his cards.

  “Leah’s cute.”

  Kevin’s expression never faltered, but a foot slid between Gabriel’s on the tiles and pushed up. His knees were opened and steadily kicked wider and wider, in a blatant warning, until Kevin’s heel rested against his crotch. Hot, hard and dangerous.

  Gabriel’s jacket was over the bac
k of his chair, and when Judith got up to serve dessert, he fished in the pockets for his phone.

  Me: Staying at Kevin’s tonight. See you tomorrow x

  Chapter Thirteen

  Christmas Day was—a day.

  It arrived out of nowhere, the unyielding winter and competing demands suddenly jarring to a halt on Christmas Eve after a surprise get-out-of-work-free card from the boss and coming home to find that Gabriel had decorated in his absence, up to and including a bauble in a somewhat surprising place as an early present.

  So—naturally—Aled punished him the following morning for the inappropriate use of Christmas decorations.

  Punishment half-inflicted, Aled found some suitable going-out clothes, shrugged on a jumper and shut the wardrobe door.

  “Right, I’m off,” he said. “Be good.”

  Gabriel’s only answer was a shaky breath. Aled had been woken up with a hand job, so had taken his revenge by plugging Gabriel with the largest vibrator they owned, trussing him up in ribbons then wrapping the bound body in delicate tissue paper. The duck-egg blue was a sensual counterpoint to the red flush in Gabriel’s shivering skin.

  He stooped over the bed and kissed the edge of the gag.

  “If you’re still just like that when I get back, you’ll get your Christmas present.”

  He locked the bedroom door behind him, then headed downstairs whistling jauntily. There was no chance Gabriel would manage it. He could come on that particular dildo when it was switched off, never mind when it delivered a deep, throbbing pulse every two to six seconds. Just predictable enough to keep him on the edge but changing too often to let him zone out and ignore it.

  He’d never last. And that meant another punishment. So Aled reversed off the drive in high spirits and sang along to the radio as he headed over to Pontefract.

  It wasn’t just his turn to visit for Christmas—he took turns with his much-loathed Uncle Paul, so they never had to actually see one another—but he had news to deliver as well. Not only had Aled’s parents acted as de facto parents for Suze, but Nana had been her nana too. If anything, Suze sometimes saw Nana more often than Aled, especially if work sent him off travelling. They had kept her out of care between them for a good seven or eight years after the dementia had begun, but, in the end, they hadn’t been able to provide all the care she needed.

  Nana might be in the home now, but she’d still want to know all about Suze’s wedding.

  Not that Nana was quite gone yet. She had insisted that if she had to go into care, it wasn’t going to be too far from her bingo night, hence Pontefract. She’d refused to come to Wakefield to live nearer to them and had rather tartly told Aled that he had a nice car, so needed to shut up moaning about having the opportunity to use it more. He could drive to visit her at the flat and he could drive to visit her at the home.

  Bingo was long since gone—or rather, Nana’s ability to get there was long gone—but she’d settled in to a new routine in the home and was generally happy enough. She still knitted too much. She constantly whinged about the staff and their inability to make a decent cup of tea. As the dementia had progressed, she had developed that uncomfortable habit of making racist remarks now then, but it hadn’t got too serious yet. And Aled trusted them to care for her—and that was depressingly hard to come across these days.

  So, sure, Pontefract wasn’t the most convenient place for her to live anymore. But why change what she loved, or risk her safety for a few miles?

  The home itself was a pretty cluster of bungalows around a central building, the bungalows ranging from full nursing care to assisted living like Nana’s. It was always busy, and Christmas was definitely not an exception. Aled had to park out on the road, too late to snag a parking space.

  “Hello, pet!” the receptionist said cheerily. “Here to see Aggie, are you?”

  “Always,” Aled said, signing the register. “Merry Christmas.”

  “And you, pet.”

  The home looked like a Christmas elf had barfed on it. Nana had a room in an assisted bungalow, only one step down from full nursing care, but even the various machines, trolleys and pulleys had been decorated with bows. Her name plate was framed in tinsel and when Aled knocked and cracked open her door, the assistants had helped her put up all her old ornaments from the house. His earliest memories had featured that very same little tree, and he grinned as he stepped into the room.

  “There you are!” she croaked.

  Nana was ninety-nine years old. Aled was adopted, so of course she looked nothing like him, but her frail hands on his back were familiar as his own name when he stooped to hug her. He remembered summers playing with Suze on his grandparents’ lawn, kicking a ball into Nana’s roses and getting the back of his jeans smacked with the carpet brush every time. Now, she couldn’t have smacked him with a hanky and she forgot his name more often than not, but enough remained. She remembered enough that her face lit up when he stooped to hug her. She remembered enough that she was pleased to see him. She knew he was family, even if she couldn’t always remember if he was Euan or Euan’s son.

  “No Melissa?”

  “No, Nana. We’re divorced.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right. It’s a new girl, isn’t it? Gabby.”

  They’d mutually agreed to give up. Nana had taken Gabriel for a girl when they’d first been introduced, then got upset when gently corrected. At first, she’d been upset that the dementia was ruining her ability to recall things properly. Now she’d get upset because she thought they were trying to lie to her. She didn’t seem able to realise that it wasn’t a question of her memory or lies, and Gabriel had grudgingly agreed to just let her think he was a woman.

  Which, Aled mused, was probably why he didn’t visit much.

  “Yep. She’s visiting her grandfather today,” Aled lied, the false pronouns rolling like heavy marbles on his tongue, unpleasant and awkward.

  “Ooh, that’s nice of her. Do you like him?”

  “Her granddad?” Aled asked. “We’ve never met. Come on, we got you a present. Open it.”

  Gabriel had written the card and wrapped it, maybe to make up for skipping out on the visit. The paper was the same duck-egg blue that Aled had used to trap him and he shifted a little uncomfortably as Nana picked at the paper.

  “Suze sends her love and says she’ll drop by tomorrow,” he said as Nana slowly opened her gift. “She’s getting married next year. She wants to give you your invitation personally.”

  “Oh, that would be lovely,” Nana sighed. “But I don’t think I’m up to that sort of thing now, you know.”

  Aled bit his lip. She was probably right. After her fall last year, she was almost completely bed-bound. He hated to think it, but it was entirely likely that she wasn’t going to see her big milestone birthday.

  “When are you getting married?” she asked. “Oi! Don’t you go interfering! I can open my own present.”

  He chuckled but sat back again. “I’m divorced now, Nana.”

  “Not Melissa. Gabby.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Gabby? We’re not going to get married.”

  “Why not?” she demanded imperiously.

  The end of the soft package finally opened properly, and a silver necklace slithered out into her crooked fingers. She trilled appreciatively and Aled was saved from further questioning for a little while by helping her put it on and fetching the mirror.

  “Lovely. Tess, look!” she chirped when the door cracked and the assistant came in with her Christmas dinner on a tray. “Look at my new necklace.”

  Aled busied himself with rescuing all the splinters of tissue scattered on the bedsheets as Nana and Tess admired the necklace and the tray was set up, then sank back into his seat once the door had closed again—only to discover that Nana had latched on to the idea anyway.

  “I can wear it at your wedding,” she said brightly. “When’s that again?”

  “I’m not getting married again, Nana.”

  “Well
, you should,” she snapped. “You need a good wife.”

  Aled smirked. Gabriel would make a bloody awful wife. And in Nana’s worldview, Aled had always been more of a wife than even his actual wife. What husband changed the bedsheets, after all?

  “I tried that,” he said. “I’m not very good at being married.”

  “You got lazy,” she said. “You know better now.”

  “I still can’t have children, Nana.”

  “Neither could your mum. Plenty of babies out there.”

  “Mum wanted one, though. Gab—Gabby doesn’t. And neither do I.”

  “Well, then, who’s going to look after you when you’re my age?” she asked in a triumphant tone, and Aled laughed.

  “Nursing home staff?” he suggested. “And Gabby, I expect. H—she’s a bit younger than me.”

  “That much is obvious,” Nana said pointedly.

  “Thanks, Nana.”

  “Don’t you take that tone with me…”

  She was finally persuaded off the topic by some Christmas TV and complaints about dry turkey. Aled sat back, toying with the ribbon off her present and looking at the photographs on the windowsill. They helped her with remembering people’s names, even though there wasn’t anything written on them. His dad and uncle as boys. Nana and Granddad’s twentieth wedding anniversary. Mum and Dad’s wedding.

  Aled pushed himself up from the chair and reached for the wedding photograph.

  Suze had once remarked that Gabriel seemed to come out of nowhere. He was so detached from his roots that Aled had no doubt he’d never meet another Lazarri. He’d never met the uncles in Pudsey, or the grandfather who lived with them. Gabriel visited every month, but never for long, and had said it would probably stop once his grandfather passed away. He had siblings, but Aled didn’t know their names. He didn’t have his mum’s phone number, and there’d never been a father in the picture. Gabriel just was. His real family were Kevin and Judith, and they were nothing to do with his birth.

  In a way, Aled was the same. His father was an ash-blond Welshman built like a rake. His mother was a sharp-nosed Indian woman with a spectacular singing voice. He had always known he was adopted. It had always been so obvious, and yet something that had never really touched him. He had a family. What did he need to know more for?