There, he'd said it. He braced himself for a reaction - any reaction - although rationally he knew there was nothing to worry about; he couldn't even see Ben's face until he turned, nearly splashing out his drink in his abruptness. "Careful," Ari interjected in warning, though Ben seemed to steady himself. (Better that there were no accidents this evening; the last surprising news Ari had sprung had seen a lot of stumbling and shattered glass. He still remembered the blood on Ben's hand.)
And there it was, that teasing disbelief, the sort of thing that should come as an immeasurable relief to him. Ben didn't care, see; if he was annoyed at not being made aware of this possibility earlier, he wasn't showing it. Ari took this, gratefully, as an encouraging sign of forgiveness, something that was... less sure from, well - Zelda, for one.
Believe me, I wish I were bluffing, Ari answered mentally, while he fought to dislodge an inexplicable lump from his throat. This was good; what kind of fool would he be if he somehow felt disappointed? "I'm really not," Ari replied instead, once he'd mustered the willpower to keep up the smile he had lightly plastered to his face. This might be a shock, but there would be far more to answer to if he let the faintest hint of reluctance show.
"To be honest, it all rather snuck up on me, too," Ari admitted with a brief, happy ("happy") chuckle, as though he were still surprised by his luck himself; this was the easiest explanation to deliver, although no one would know just how true it was. Merlin, he was still surprised at himself. Was this really the easiest way to keep his life together (or Miss Tweedy's life, for that matter), truly the sensible precaution?
"I didn't want to tell you until I was... sure," he added, some apology in his eyes now, hoping Ben did forgive him. "But, yes. It's really happening." And damned soon. "Mad, I know." He'd heard enough of the "married to his work" spiel from - well, just about everyone he knew - to know full well that no one would have imagined this outcome.
For his part, Ari had always imagined Ben would be the one getting married. Garrett and Bax too, until he was the only one left - but it had been Ben's marriage that would have hurt the most. He had dreaded the day for at least a decade. So this - this order of things: confounding, in more ways than one.
And there it was, that teasing disbelief, the sort of thing that should come as an immeasurable relief to him. Ben didn't care, see; if he was annoyed at not being made aware of this possibility earlier, he wasn't showing it. Ari took this, gratefully, as an encouraging sign of forgiveness, something that was... less sure from, well - Zelda, for one.
Believe me, I wish I were bluffing, Ari answered mentally, while he fought to dislodge an inexplicable lump from his throat. This was good; what kind of fool would he be if he somehow felt disappointed? "I'm really not," Ari replied instead, once he'd mustered the willpower to keep up the smile he had lightly plastered to his face. This might be a shock, but there would be far more to answer to if he let the faintest hint of reluctance show.
"To be honest, it all rather snuck up on me, too," Ari admitted with a brief, happy ("happy") chuckle, as though he were still surprised by his luck himself; this was the easiest explanation to deliver, although no one would know just how true it was. Merlin, he was still surprised at himself. Was this really the easiest way to keep his life together (or Miss Tweedy's life, for that matter), truly the sensible precaution?
"I didn't want to tell you until I was... sure," he added, some apology in his eyes now, hoping Ben did forgive him. "But, yes. It's really happening." And damned soon. "Mad, I know." He'd heard enough of the "married to his work" spiel from - well, just about everyone he knew - to know full well that no one would have imagined this outcome.
For his part, Ari had always imagined Ben would be the one getting married. Garrett and Bax too, until he was the only one left - but it had been Ben's marriage that would have hurt the most. He had dreaded the day for at least a decade. So this - this order of things: confounding, in more ways than one.
