Married Ones by Matthew J. Metzger

Author:Matthew J. Metzger [Metzger, Matthew J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2018-07-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4: Stella

A hangover cure was desperately needed by the morning.

Mike felt like something had died in his mouth. Stephen point-blank refused to come within range until he’d gargled half a bottle of mouthwash, and even then only tolerated a peck on the cheek, citing a headache that was threatening to dissolve his eyeballs.

“Mam’s?”

“God, yes.”

They had to get a taxi, Stephen unable and Mike unwilling to fetch the car from the hotel just yet. The cabbie took one look at them, chortled, and said nothing for the entire journey. Stephen tipped him extra, just for that grace.

Thankfully, Mike’s mam was a proper Yorkshire mam. She opened the door, snapped, “Oh for goodness’ sake, Stephen, look at you!” and hustled him right inside to be fed.

Skinny people were an insult to Stella Parry’s personal beliefs, and Mike had been defending nine years of a relationship with, “I cook plenty, Mam! He just bloody well runs it off!” It didn’t help that Stephen ate like a starved pig, again thanks to all the bloody running, and Mike’s mam would scowl at him every time they came round for tea.

Which, given her cooking, was always.

The kitchen was covered in chaos that morning. Stephen was hustled into a chair—”not in your condition!”—and Mike ruefully set about helping clear up. There were seating plans pinned to the corkboard above the microwave, and piles of ironing everywhere.

“So,” Stephen said, delicately picking a cravat out of the fruit bowl. “You all set for Saturday, Stella?”

She huffed. Mike’s mam was a short, round woman with fluffy fair hair that was slowly turning a regal silver. Nothing about the rest of her was regal. She always smelled of laundry powder and detergent, and looked perpetually tired due to night shifts at the care home. Her life had been measured by looking after other people, and in Mike’s experience, nothing was more stressful than trying to make his mam take a day for herself. No doubt she’d spend the wedding running about after everyone else, too.

“No,” she said frankly. “Nobody ever is.”

“We were,” Mike said cheerfully.

“You didn’t have a proper wedding,” came the tart reply. “And get away from that oven before you burn yourself, you daft boy!”

Being the wrong side of thirty did nothing to stop his mam calling him a boy. Mike grunted, and slid into the seat beside Stephen’s.

“Bacon? Eggs? Stephen, you’ll have a big plate, won’t you, love. Honestly, does our Mike even feed you?”

Stephen smirked into his sleeve. Mike rolled his eyes.

“When are you two going to do it right, anyway?” Stella continued as she banged pans and rummaged for ingredients. “Your sister’s doing it properly!”

“Vikki’s only doing it properly because Suze is making her.”

“Good for Suze.”

“Things were different for us,” Mike said pointedly, and his mam sighed.

“They’re not anymore,” she said. “You should have a proper wedding, you know.”

“Sod that.”

“Costs money,” Stephen said.

“Tight Scottish bastard.”

“Mike! You ignore him, Stephen.”

Mike rolled his eyes. Stephen grinned into his sleeve again, then rocked sideways on his chair and into Mike’s side.

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