There hadn't really been time for his 'oh no' to trudge its way through the slow moving cogs in her murky head, it definitely hadn't connected up with anything that might ask hey whaddya mean 'oh no' but still, everything felt better when he put his arm around her. And even better when she linked her fingers with his and she could feel their rings knocking against each other and her shoulders shook, a little, laughing at the feel of that. "Oh my god," she whispered in awe, kinda loving that even though she felt a bit pulverized she had his open arms to crawl into.
We’re engaged! she remembered telling— someone? A croupier maybe, or a waiter. She’d told him and then she and Avery had laughed together like it was a secret, cuz it was, cuz the secret was they weren’t engaged and right at that moment the secret was very, very funny. And later Avery had put his arms around her, chin on her shoulder, talking to a blackjack dealer like he and Lyra were a two headed blackjack menace (they had been, too, they'd definitely been a two headed blackjack menace) and he’d said she’s my fiancé and she’d turned around and kissed him so deep the dealer had to remind them that if they weren’t going to place a bet they had to move away from the table.
But it hadn't felt like a joke anymore, and she'd really, really really really liked the way that sounded. She’s my fiancé. Lyra liked the my. The my was perfect. It almost didn’t matter what word came after it.
Probably should have mattered, but… hadn’t. Didn’t. She felt way too happy to be pedantic bout anything.
"Fuck," she said, shifting for comfort, her grinning head heavy against his neck. "We got married, we did that, it happened..." It felt like she needed to hear it, out loud, or else the whole night might have been some crazed fever dream, and she heaved her head up to look at him, needing to squint against the light. "That... happened, right?"