Chapter 27

Despite the booze, he felt deadly serious. They’d had to do it how they had, he knew that, but…they’dnever had a real wedding, not the traditional way. No matter his mam had been pissed.

“No.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

And suddenly Stephen was straddling Mike’s lap, the back of his suit trousers cold and damp from the stone wall, and front of them hot from being, well, on the front of him.

And his mouth was biting at Mike’s lower lip.

“Already did,” he whispered, “and I’d not change it for the world, you maudlin old git. Muddy boots in that registry office and the best shag we ever had in that grubby old hotel at half one in the morning? Best wedding ever.”

Mike got both hands on his arse, and squeezed, laughing.

“Was me and you sticking it to your old man,” he said, and found himself grinning around a messy, sticky kiss. “Was you jamming me between your family and you if that surgery went wrong. He’s never going to forgive us.”

“See?” said Stephen. “Best. Wedding. Ever.”