Ivy, too, studied the straightness of her lines, her upper lip hidden beneath the lower. She was the first to notice the silence, to sense its uneasy drift. With a great gust, she blew the white lines from the table and looked across the table at him with a renewed smile.
"Oh, hey. Sorry. I had a little skip down unhappy-memory-lane there for a second, is all. I hope I didn't upset you."
Peter looked at her. He shook his head, then rose without a word and carried his coffee cup into the kitchen.
"Hey, you want to open more wine?" Ivy was at his side, carrying their empty glasses. "I've been here only three weeks and already have a prototype of my speech interface working." The trembling of her hand caused the glasses to steadily clink together, a fragile ringing sound. She didn't seem to notice. "Come on, let's celebrate."
He rested his hand over the glasses, silencing them. "We've had enough."
She narrowed the already small space between them, and he slid his hands into his pockets, not sure what to do with them. "Thank you for such a great meal," he said, and made an attempt to get past her.
She giggled, held her ground.
He let out a frustrated breath. "Please," he said. "I've got to get to bed." There was no humor in his face.
"All right, then," she said sullenly, and pressed her back against the doorjamb, making way for him.
Just as he was about to shut off the stereo he changed his mind, and decided to leave it on. To keep Kate there with him, he thought, humming along with her voice on his way to his bedroom.