Tybalt pulled a scandalised face as if to say oh my goodness, don’t even joke about that when Elsie mentioned Bentley going to Hogwarts. That was – too far. When Bentley went off to Hogwarts, he and Elsie would be in their late thirties, and that – was unimaginably grown up. Unfathomable. Impossible. For them, never mind Bentley.
But thinking about being old was going to make him lose his appetite, so Tyb was perfectly content to focus on the present for now. Or the near-future, if by near-future one meant the alone time they might have in the house this weekend. (It was hardly the first time or the last they’d have, but still – a lot of their time had necessarily been swallowed by other things.)
They’d never even had a proper honeymoon (obviously, they hadn’t the money for that either, not with a baby coming), so he was still stitching together every occasion he could just to spend time with Elsie in their old, irresponsible ways. They were almost too responsible now, so they had to make up for it when they could.
You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to it, Tyb might have said, if he weren’t also battling the desire to lean over and kiss her right now even if he squished the whole bloody cake he’d made. “So am I,” he just agreed, restraining himself – responsibly – “and hey,” Tyb added, his smile getting small and conspiratorial. “Happy first year of marriage.” Well, give or take a day or two, but close enough. They’d done it.
But thinking about being old was going to make him lose his appetite, so Tyb was perfectly content to focus on the present for now. Or the near-future, if by near-future one meant the alone time they might have in the house this weekend. (It was hardly the first time or the last they’d have, but still – a lot of their time had necessarily been swallowed by other things.)
They’d never even had a proper honeymoon (obviously, they hadn’t the money for that either, not with a baby coming), so he was still stitching together every occasion he could just to spend time with Elsie in their old, irresponsible ways. They were almost too responsible now, so they had to make up for it when they could.
You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to it, Tyb might have said, if he weren’t also battling the desire to lean over and kiss her right now even if he squished the whole bloody cake he’d made. “So am I,” he just agreed, restraining himself – responsibly – “and hey,” Tyb added, his smile getting small and conspiratorial. “Happy first year of marriage.” Well, give or take a day or two, but close enough. They’d done it.
