Ben didn't believe it. Ari had known no one would - he had never come close, hadn't even had a near miss at marriage - but there was something in Ben's bemusement, and his furrowed brow, that made him worry. Ben didn't even believe him enough.
Maybe because he'd known more of the truth than most, once. Maybe there was still some imprint of that night in his head somewhere -
But Ari couldn't let that come flooding back. He could not tell the same truth twice over. And that meant he couldn't give even the scarcest hint of it, couldn't deal with too many probing questions. If he explained any of it - Miss Tweedy's pregnancy, that the whole suggestion of marriage was mere convenience - he would only be a hair's breadth from confessing enough to make Ben think.
And they couldn't have that.
So he smiled at Ben, a smile that was almost condescending. “She’s an old family friend. Works at the hospital with me, a mediwitch,” he explained, his tone thoughtful. “When you've known someone a long time - or see them often enough - it's easy not to notice how you feel, until -” Until it got too much to bear. Until it was all you thought about. (Until you were here, telling the man who had your heart shackled to him, utterly unknowingly, about your impending marriage.) Ari offered Ben a soft shrug, trying to be more believable, trying not to be bitter. “So you don't expect anything to change, and then - suddenly, it has.”
“So I wasn't sure, at first. But I am now.” He'd backed himself pretty firmly into this corner, after all - might as well sell it. It felt unnecessary to add, too pointed to be kind, but - “But I suppose - if you haven't felt this way before - you wouldn't understand.”
Maybe because he'd known more of the truth than most, once. Maybe there was still some imprint of that night in his head somewhere -
But Ari couldn't let that come flooding back. He could not tell the same truth twice over. And that meant he couldn't give even the scarcest hint of it, couldn't deal with too many probing questions. If he explained any of it - Miss Tweedy's pregnancy, that the whole suggestion of marriage was mere convenience - he would only be a hair's breadth from confessing enough to make Ben think.
And they couldn't have that.
So he smiled at Ben, a smile that was almost condescending. “She’s an old family friend. Works at the hospital with me, a mediwitch,” he explained, his tone thoughtful. “When you've known someone a long time - or see them often enough - it's easy not to notice how you feel, until -” Until it got too much to bear. Until it was all you thought about. (Until you were here, telling the man who had your heart shackled to him, utterly unknowingly, about your impending marriage.) Ari offered Ben a soft shrug, trying to be more believable, trying not to be bitter. “So you don't expect anything to change, and then - suddenly, it has.”
“So I wasn't sure, at first. But I am now.” He'd backed himself pretty firmly into this corner, after all - might as well sell it. It felt unnecessary to add, too pointed to be kind, but - “But I suppose - if you haven't felt this way before - you wouldn't understand.”
