Husband Material (London Calling, #2)

by Alexis Hall

Fuck. Fuckity, fuckity, fuck.

This being attending the wedding of the man who’d ruined my life. Well, ruined a bit of my life. A bit of my life that had seemed quite important at the time.

I was largely unsurprised to discover that even the substandard rooms in Lettice Manor came equipped with the kind of bath that Roman senators would fuck their boyfriends in.

Rain was just another fact of life. Like taxes. Or the other thing.

Then there was the Brokeback Mountain poster back from when “two cowboys shag once, then one of them dies” was the best rep you got in mainstream media if you weren’t old enough to watch Queer as Folk.