A half beat.
His mouth opened on the shape of a word that had more than two syllables. I saw it. The word sat on his tongue and didn't come out.
"…partner."
The word he chose was a smaller word than the one he'd started.
"Partner," I said. Like I was learning to pronounce it in another language.
He held my eyes a beat longer than the word needed. Then something behind his expression closed, quiet as a door on a latch, and he looked away. Down. At the half-built frame on the carpet. He stared at it the way a person stares at a cigarette they're done with.
"Pick whichever bed you want. I'll take the other one."
A deflection. I knew one when I heard one. I'd been using them on him since week one.
The thing I'd planned to say was Vane, I know you hate that I go down there. I know what
