Mara took off her shoes beside the L and discovered the terrace was still warm beneath her feet.
Most of the guests remained, though the edges of the party had softened. A woman she worked with slept in a chair, head against a folded jacket, while a friend beside her defended her from suggestions that she be taken to bed. Owen stood at the bar asking for water with the seriousness of somebody making a fresh start. Leah and Daniel had come back from their walk and sat together near the wall, talking with their knees touching.
The band was playing more quietly. One musician had put down an instrument to drink. The saxophonist remained on the ground, looking tired enough to have accepted his natural height.
Mara held both shoes by their straps. She hadn't noticed how much she'd danced until she stopped. Her calves ached; a small place beneath one strap had become sore; her mouth hurt from laughing. The whole night occupied her body, inconvenient and excellent.
Freya came past carrying her bag and a glass of water.
“There you are.”
“You sound surprised.”
“You've been difficult to keep in one place.”
“A change of policy.”
Freya smiled. Her lipstick had mostly gone, and one piece of hair which she'd pinned carefully before the party had escaped to lie against her cheek.
“I'm going to sit,” she said.
“An excellent next act.”
“Come if you like.”
Mara nodded. Freya squeezed her shoulder and went toward the chairs, finding a place beside Kit without making it an announcement. He moved an empty plate for her. They spoke, their faces turned toward each other, and Mara looked away to leave them the ordinary privacy she'd resented being asked to explain herself.
Theo was by the cake table. Somebody had put a napkin over the remaining exposed part. He held a small plate and appeared to be determining whether the final bite required a fork.
Mara went to him.
“Evidence,” she said.
He looked up. “I was clearing it.”
“With your mouth.”
“An effective method.”
She leaned forward and took the bite from his fingers. Lemon and cream, a little warmer now, still good. He held the empty plate while she finished it.
“We should have brought a container,” he said.
“We can live without taking every part of it home.”
“Ambitious.”
She smiled, then felt the sentence return with more meaning than she'd intended. Theo put the plate down. Neither improved it.
Robin came past with his camera lowered. He said he'd got some good pictures and asked whether they wanted anything else before he finished. Mara shook her head. Theo thanked him.
“A very good party,” Robin said.
“We agree,” Mara replied.
He smiled and went to collect his bag. No final joke about uncoupling. She was grateful without needing him to know it.
The band began a slower song. Mara recognized it but didn't want to sing. She set her shoes beneath the cake table and looked at Theo.
“Come here.”
He stepped closer.
She put a hand on his shoulder and took the other in hers. They stood at the quiet side of the terrace, away from the main group of dancers, with a table on one side and the warm stone wall on the other. He moved his hand to her waist. She felt his palm through the thin fabric and closed her eyes for a moment before they began.
They didn't do the steps Inés had taught them. They moved slowly, a small turn, almost no distance. Mara's bare toes brushed his shoe. He adjusted his foot so she wouldn't catch it again, and the tiny familiar courtesy undid her more than the music.
“I've shrunk,” she said.
“The shoes.”
“Ah.”
He smiled. She could see the tiredness around his eyes now. A small crease marked his shirt where he'd held someone while dancing; another where she had leaned against him. She put her palm there, smoothing nothing successfully.
The terrible duet had left him hoarse. When he spoke again, his voice sounded nearer her skin than it usually did.
“Your feet all right?”
“They're objecting.”
“Mine too.”
“We should listen.”
“After this.”
She nodded. They kept moving, the next beat finding them without effort. She knew where his hand would settle if she moved nearer. She moved nearer anyway.
Across the terrace Bill was trying to persuade Sue to put on a pair of shoes she had clearly finished with. She shook her head, laughing, and he carried them instead. Leah looked toward Mara for a moment, then Daniel said something and her face turned back to him.
Mara rested her cheek against Theo's chest. His hand spread across her back. He smelled warm, tired, faintly of the shirt's washing powder beneath the whole long evening.
She wanted this body in her bed. She wanted him telling her tomorrow that her hair had attacked. She wanted the day after that too. The want no longer surprised her, and it did not supply the words she had been unable to give him earlier.
For the length of the song she let it stay without asking it to do something else.
When the music ended, they didn't separate immediately. Theo's hand remained at her waist. She lifted her face and kissed him, gently, a kiss neither hurried to finish nor used to begin another conversation.
He touched her cheek afterward. She leaned into it and smiled badly, her eyes filling.
“I liked the song,” she said.
“This one?”
“The other one.”
His laugh came rough. “A critical reversal.”
“You were magnificent.”
“We were magnificent.”
She nodded, crying a little now and still smiling. He wiped one tear with his thumb. The terrace carried on behind him: a chair scraping, somebody calling goodnight, the band choosing what to play next.
They went to say goodbye to the people who were leaving. Mara hugged Sue, who held her for longer than the greeting had required and said the cake was excellent. Mara said she was glad. Bill kissed her cheek and thanked her for keeping him out of the letter.
“A service you'll appreciate tomorrow,” she said.
“I already do.”
Leah put her arms around her sister and said she'd see her in the morning if they were up in time. There was no promise to supervise departure. Mara held her hard and said sleep well. Daniel kissed both their heads, then picked up Leah’s shoes from beneath their chair, where he had left them when they came back from their walk.
The party grew smaller by people, not by pleasure. Kit and Freya stayed seated. Nina found Owen's jacket, which he had hung carefully somewhere he'd never be able to identify without help. Two cousins were discussing whether they could remember the suitcase words. One could, unfortunately, and began.
Mara rescued her shoes before Theo could offer to carry them. They walked away while a few people remained in the light, still talking over the music. At the steps she turned to look back.
The word glowed above the emptying tables. The flowers were less tidy now, a few heads bent, a napkin caught beneath one bowl. She could see the table where they'd eaten, the place she had danced with her sister, the corner where Theo held a microphone as if he had been waiting all his life to be ridiculous in public with her.
“Ready?” he asked.
She turned toward him.
“Yes.”
They took the path to the villa. It was quiet enough now to hear their steps separately. At the gate Theo waited while Mara found the key. She opened it, and they went in.
She stood before the bedroom mirror while he undid the button. Her shoulders carried the marks of the dress. He rubbed one lightly with his finger, then went to put water beside the daybed.
Mara hung the dress on the wardrobe door again. She showered, brushed her teeth and came into the sitting room in the T-shirt she slept in. Theo was sitting on the daybed, shoes off, looking at the brown hat which had fallen behind his bag.
“A distinguished guest,” she said.
“An embarrassment to its profession.”
She laughed and bent to kiss him goodnight. He held her hand until she straightened, then let it go.
In the bedroom she left the door open. She could hear him moving in the other room, the soft sound of a zip, a glass set down. After a while the lamp went out there.
Mara lay awake with the last music still in her ears and the dress making a pale shape beside the wardrobe. When she turned on her side, the cool sheet touched the place on her back where his hand had been.