Short Stack

by Lily Morton

  “Does that mean you’ll do it?” He looks suddenly anxious, and I run a comforting hand down his side.

  “You know it does,” I say quietly, feeling the sag as he relaxes. I reach up and kiss him slowly. “I’d marry you right this fucking second, Asa Jacobs. I’ve said all along that I wanted something simple.”

  We smile at each other and then I laugh. “Fuck. I’m getting married today. Me. Jude Bailey. Who’d have thought it?”

  “Jude Jacobs,” he reminds me, and I smile and nod. “Are you sure you don’t mind dropping the Bailey?”

  “Asa, we had a very long, serious, and did I forget to mention, very long conversation about this last week. I told you I want the same name as you and Billy.”

  He hugs me tight suddenly, kissing the side of my head. “I love you so fucking much,” he says quietly. “You make me so happy.”

  “Good,” I say softly. “It’s nice to know I give back what you give me.”

  We rest together for a second, and then I stir. “What time are we getting married?”

  “Two o’clock.”

  “And where is everyone? Have they gone to sort out their outfits?” He looks suddenly shifty, and I shake my head. “Tell me now. Make it quick.”

  His mouth quirks before he turns serious. “They’ve gone to get ready in a hotel. I know you might have wanted us all to get ready together, but I opted for this instead.”

  “What?” I try to sit up, and he pulls me down again.

  “We have family and close friends for the wedding who are meeting us at the registry office, and then about a hundred friends are also on their way to Mallorca. They’re going to stay for a week in the local area. We’re joining them tomorrow, and there will be a massive party, so put your surprised and delighted face on.” I immediately assume the expression, and he shakes his head ruefully. “That’s your blowjob face. Oh, well. Lucky me.”

  “But why aren’t they here now? Won’t Billy mind?”

  He sits up slightly and grabs my face between his big palms. “Listen very carefully, Jude, because this is very serious to me.” I nod, and he smiles, kissing me before drawing back. “I’m marrying you, Jude. You’re the love of my life, and this marriage is ours. We’ll share our lives with everyone else, and I love that you love that, but this marriage must be ours first. So, it should be just us at the beginning like it will be just us at the end, love.”

  “Don’t mention the end,” I say hoarsely.

  He smiles tenderly. “Sweetheart, when I close my eyes for the last time, I’ll be a happy man if I’m near you. That’s something we should celebrate, not fear.” He shakes his head. “Tell me you understand. I want just you and me before we do this.”

  “But won’t Billy be devastated to miss all the build-up?”

  “No,” he scoffs. “As long as he’s there for the wedding and we put him near cake, he won’t care. He was very excited about everyone going to the hotel. Besides, Billy will grow up and leave home and it will just be us. I thought it was important to start with the basis of everything, which is you and me.”

  I hug him tight, pushing my face into his tanned neck where I can smell amber and lavender. “I love you so much,” I say fiercely.

  “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

  “Of course.”

  He stirs. “In that case, we have to go.”

  “Go where? It’s not even twelve yet.”

  “We’re going to another hotel.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the registry office will be fairly impersonal, so I want to exchange our vows on our own. Our own personal vows that we might not want others to hear. I’ve booked us a suite, and we’re going to spend the night there tonight and meet everyone in Mallorca tomorrow.”

  I stare at him. “Asa Jacobs, you old romantic.” I grin in delight as he blushes. Then I push him down and roll on top of him.

  “What are you doing?” he mutters. “Jude, we haven’t got time.”

  “We can do our vows here,” I say quickly.

  “What?”

  I nod. “I want to do it here.”

  “Is it because you don’t want to bother getting dressed?”

  I laugh. “You know me so well.” I stare down at him. “No, I want to make our vows here at the kitchen table where we’ve had all our important conversations. I want to say them in the centre of our world.”

  A slow smile crosses his face. “If I live to be a hundred, I will never guess what’s going to come out of your mouth.”

  I snuggle into him. “Bet you could guess at what’s going into it.”

  He pinches me, and I flinch away, laughing. Then I crawl out from under the table and stand up. “Okay, get comfortable, and when I say that, I mean don’t even think about getting dressed.” He lies back and fists his cock lazily, and I swallow hard. “Okay, I like your version of comfortable. Let’s go with that.” He laughs, and I turn away. “I’m making tea and toast and getting some cushions, and then we can have our board meeting.”

  Five minutes later, I sit cross-legged against a mound of cushions piled on the floor by the table and nibble my toast and marmalade, my gaze focussed where he’s lounging in all his naked glory.

  “I must say I like this board meeting,” he murmurs, taking a sip of his tea. “It beats a lot of the business meetings I’ve had in my life.”

  I smile happily. “I think we should have a Jacobs board meeting every month just like this.” I pause. “Only we’ll do it in our room with the door locked. It might get dodgy down here if Peggy’s frying chips.” He laughs loudly, and I sneak an affectionate glance at him. I love making him laugh. When he stops, he sits up slightly and puts his tea down, and I smile. “Okay, how do you want this to go?”

  He looks at me with an endearingly serious look on his face. “I want us to make our own promises to each other about our marriage that have nothing to do with the formal words we’ll have to say at the registry office.” I nod, thinking hard, and he smiles. “How about I go first because I’ve had longer to think about this than you?”

  He sits forward, and I swallow at the gentle, intent look on his face. His eyes are soft and as full of love as I’ve ever seen them. He reaches out and takes my hand.

  “I promise that I will never moan when you put your cold feet on me in bed.” I snort at the unexpected comment, and he grins. I already love these vows. They’re real, like us. “I promise that if you’re not wearing a jumper when it’s cold that I will always wear one because you will invariably insist on nicking it when you’re freezing. As an addendum, I promise to carry on ignoring the fact that my jumpers and T-shirts seem to disappear out of my wardrobe and into yours, never to be seen again.”

  I shake my head. “Your stuff is so comfortable.”

  He bites his lip. “Are we interrupting vows now?” I make a zipping motion across my mouth, and he smiles. “I promise to cook paella once a month the way your mum taught me and to make time for each other despite the chaos of our house, which is busier than Piccadilly Circus. I vow always to follow you when I’m on location, and you want to drag me off to any historical site that happens to be nearby.” His gaze softens. “I promise always to keep that lift I get when I’m coming home, and I know you’re there waiting. I promise to always love the dreamy face you get when you’re reading and the fact that I have to ask you the same thing thirty times before you hear me.” He swallows hard. “I promise to always remember that you’re precious to me and are the centre of my life so you’re not sidelined by mess and noise.”

  I kiss him warmly. “That was beautiful.” I sit up. “My turn.” I think hard and grin. “I promise to remember to lock the bathroom door when I’m giving you a blowjob so we don’t have to pretend that I’m helping you find the sponge on the shower floor.”

  He laughs loudly. “Thank God for frosted glass.”

  “Amen,” I say, nodding. “Okay, where was I? I promise to throw all the fans’ gifts of sex toys away so Billy does
n’t use a cock ring as a bracelet and go to school in it like last month.”

  He blanches. “That meeting with his class teacher is one of those evergreen moments I know I’ll always remember.”

  I laugh. “I promise to keep stealing your clothes because it’s the only fucking time you buy new ones.”

  “Not my trousers,” he says with a grin. “They don’t fit you.”

  I smirk. “But what’s in your trousers fits me perfectly.” I drop the smile and become sober. “I promise to always look out for you and not let people take advantage of you. I promise to always remember that you’re the best friend I have in the world. The first person I turn to for everything because things just aren’t complete until I’ve shared them with you.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know why you think I have all the words, Jude, because you always, without fail, manage to level me with just a few of your own.”

  He smiles almost shyly at me, and I launch myself at him, sending him flat on his back with a startled oof. I look down at his tanned face, his hair loose and tangled and his eyes bright with laughter. “I promise I’ll love you until the second I die,” I say fiercely, and his smile is replaced by a joyous grin.

  He tangles his hands in my curls and pulls me down. “That’s the best promise yet,” he mutters and takes my mouth in a deep kiss. He’s just rolled me to my back and is lying between my spread legs, sliding his cock against mine, when there’s a sharp knock at the back door. Taken by surprise, I jerk and inadvertently headbutt him in the eye.

  “Motherfucker,” he groans, resting his weight on one elbow and bringing his hand up to press into his eye. “Shit, that hurts.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I hiss. “But your face was in the way.”

  He pulls his hand away from his eye and stares at me quizzically. “My face was in the way of your head?” he echoes faintly, and I nod, ignoring the second knock at the door.

  “Yes. Your eye socket has hurt my skull.” I lie back. “I’ve got quite a headache now.”

  His lip quirks as he suppresses a smile but then we both still as a shadow moves across the window and I recollect with horror that the blinds are up. We both lie there helplessly as there’s a high-pitched shriek from outside and then the sound of hurried footsteps.

  He lowers his head into the crook of my neck. “Tell me that wasn’t Mrs Fawcett-Smythe,” he groans.

  “It was,” I say happily, hugging him. “I think that’s going to make the next neighbourhood watch meeting rather uncomfortable.”

  A couple of hours later, I look at Asa anxiously in the taxi. His eye is swelling so much it’s almost half closed now.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I can’t believe I blacked your eye on our wedding day.”

  “Well, at least I won’t ever forget the wedding.” He pauses. “But we won’t make a habit of it, okay?”

  I pout and sit back. “Well, okay, if you’re just going to be boring.”

  He chuckles and grabs my fingers which have started an agitated tapping.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “At least you aren’t shaking your hands. It used to break my heart to see you doing that.”

  “God, I remember that. I haven’t done that in a very long time.” I shrug. “I don’t know why, but I’m nervous.”

  He smiles easily, always the calm to my storm. “I’m nervous too.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  “Actor.” He shrugs.

  “Now you’re acting,” I say in mock anger. “Why don’t you try doing that while you’re at work?” I laugh out loud and jerk away from the long finger he drills into my ribs. He always gets me in this spot.

  We settle back into our seats, me sitting close, and his large hand resting familiarly along my thigh. “Shit!” I suddenly jerk as a thought occurs to me.

  “What?”

  “What about witnesses? The legal system usually requires a couple of people to stand and watch. Who are ours?”

  He sits back. “Relax. I’ve covered it.”

  “How? Is anyone left after their forced departure from the country?”

  He squeezes my thigh and chuckles when I squirm. “I thought you’d want Dylan?” He looks anxious. “Is that okay? Did you want anyone else instead?”

  I pat his hand. “You know there’s nobody like Dylan. Gabe wondered the other night if Dylan and I had been conjoined at some point. Who’s the other witness?” He shifts somewhat nervously, and I sharpen my gaze. “Who’s doing it?” He shifts again, and I narrow my eyes. “Who is it, Asa? It had better not be Philip.”

  “What the fuck?” he chokes out. “Philip. Why the hell would I invite my ex to witness my bloody wedding?”

  “He’d do it,” I huff. “You know he’d have you back in a second.”

  Asa shrugs. “Not something I can say I reciprocate.” He smiles at me. “Much as I love the odd bit of jealousy from you, it’s completely unnecessary. There’s only one person in this world for me, and he’s sitting in this taxi.”

  I smile and lean towards him. “Not sure the driver is on board with that, Asa. He doesn’t know you.” He pinches me, and I recall what we were saying. “So, go on, tell me. Who is witnessing our wedding on your side?” He shifts and mumbles something, and I lean forward. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear that. Can you speak the words this time?” He glares at me and says something under his breath, and I laugh. “I’m sorry. For a second there I thought you said Dean would be a witness at our wedding.”

  He sighs. “He is,” he says quickly as if saying it fast will distract me.

  “Dean. Your stepbrother? My ex fuck buddy?” He glares, and I smile placidly. “How’s that green eye now, Asa?” Then my brain comes back online. “Asa, the only thing Dean pays attention to is how tightly his joint is rolled. So, unless the registrar is rolling a doobie, I don’t think Dean will be witnessing anything.” He groans and shakes his head, and I push him gently. “I’m joking. I think it’s actually quite…” I pause. “It’s actually quite nice.”

  He opens his eyes cautiously. “Why?”

  “Because he’s family. All you have left.”

  “He’s my stepbrother, so not my proper family. You and Billy are that.”

  “He may be your stepbrother, but his actions scream family.”

  “What?”

  “Yep. He rings you loads.”

  “Most of the time it’s accidental, and he’s arse-dialled me.”

  “Granted. But he doesn’t hang up. He also sees you whenever he’s in London. He stays with us most of the time. He’s even been to Devon, which for Dean is the equivalent of going up the Congo. You know, with the hard water and Third World living conditions.” He laughs. “And you have to admit he loves Billy.”

  His expression softens. “I know.”

  I don’t know whether he’s more comfortable with a seven-year-old or Billy is way too mature for his years, but the two of them are lovely together. The other night I’d come home to find Dean reading a fashion magazine to Billy while they sprawled in front of the fire. Dean was putting on funny voices and telling a much-censored version of a photoshoot and Billy was lying with his hand twined in Dean’s long blond hair and laughing raucously. It has to be said that Billy loves his uncle.

  I look at Asa. “Whether you recognise it or not, Dean loves you, Asa, and he’s your only family outside of us.”

  He lifts my hand and kisses my fingers. “I love you,” he says softly. “I love that you see the best in people.”

  “Not everyone,” I feel honour bound to point out. “The Pollyanna in this relationship is definitely you.”

  He laughs, and the taxi slows. He glances out the window and then at me. “We’re here. Are you ready?”

  I meet his gaze and hold it steadily. “There is no point in time where I’m not ready to marry you.”

  We get out of the taxi, and, standing in the warm sunshine, I look up at the registry office in appreciation. Asa couldn’t have pic
ked a more delightful place. Situated on Kings Road in Chelsea, it’s a beautiful late-Victorian building that sits solidly in the afternoon sunshine.

  A loud shout of my name makes me grin, and I turn just in time to catch Dylan as he launches himself against me. He hugs me tight for a long second and then pulls back. “You’re getting married,” he exclaims. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing it before you. Gabe proposed ages ago.”

  He laughs. “We can’t work out what to do yet. We’ll make a 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.”