“Which one?” Peter said. “There are so many categories.”
“The sort who believes that wanting excuses behavior,” Stephen said.
“And did you excuse yourself?” Peter asked.
“No,” Stephen said. “But I came close to enjoying the excuse.”
“You told a man to mind his words.”
“I did.”
“In a reasonable tone.”
“Yes.”
“And you danced with your wife. That is hardly a crime. You are a man who has remembered he has a heart and is furious about it.”
Stephen sat, because refusing would have looked theatrical.
“I am not furious. I am…” He searched and found the plain word. “Unsettled.”
“Good,” Peter said. “It suggests you might become something better than neat.”
“I prefer neat,” Stephen said. “Neat does not hurt anyone.”
“Neat also does not warm anyone,” Peter countered.
Stephen stared into the glass.
“I am not qualified for warmth.”
“You managed fifteen minutes of it in a crowded room,” Peter said.
“I must put distance back,” Stephen said. “It is obvious.”
Peter’s mouth twitched.
“Why obvious?”
“Because I went too far,” Stephen preferred to keep his words brisk.
“You are planning to punish yourself by being cold,” Peter translated. “And hope she thanks you for your prudence.”
“I am planning not to be ridiculous,” Stephen said. “Which is close enough.”
“Did she look harmed by your warmth?”
“No,” Stephen said. The memory tugged at him despite himself: the way she had looked up when he had said the words he had not intended to say. “Startled. Then…no.”
“Always a good thing…”
“Peter.”
“Very well,” Peter said, surrendering the joke. “Tell me why you came.”
Stephen rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Because if I had remained in that house, I would have looked at her door until morning.”