It's the summer break, and for the first time in his life, Mike would rather stay in the bloody classroom.<br><br>It's wedding season, and Mike is doomed to spend all summer sipping cheap champagne and pretending he likes tiny portions of posh food. From the passive-aggressive torment of Mike's mother-in-law to the insulting incredulity of his colleagues over what his mysterious husband actually looks like, Mike would voluntarily teach sex education to fourteen-year-olds for the rest of his life if it would only get him out of one more wedding. Even his husband in a kilt isn't going to save this one.<br><br>But there's nothing like watching someone else get hitched to remind him of where he's come from ... and where he's determined to go from here.

Married Ones

Which was a fair point. The church was on the outskirts of a clutch of four old cottages and a farm track. Mike was surprised it existed at all. Yet the field entrances were crowded with cars, and chubby middle-aged women in too-tight velvet pantsuits milled about the entrance in garish hats. It looked, Mike reflected, like parents’ evening.


An old man stooped to pick up his wife’s fallen handbag, and his kilt rose uncomfortably. Mike amended the thought.


It looked like Scottish parents’ evening.


Mike had to tuck the car between a savage, brambly hedge, and a Toyota Yaris. Stephen had to climb out over the driver’s seat after him, then his posture stiffened and his expression cooled. His typical response to his family’s presence. Mike liked to think of it as Stephen Parry being swept away, and Stephen Black resurrected. Because Stephen was a grumpy sod and next-to-never smiled, yes, but this Stephen wasn’t Mike’s Stephen.


Chapter 9