He can't keep the relief off his face when she takes his hand. It's startling and comforting, every time, when Molly intuits something he can't put into words himself. This is another thing, he thinks, that he's never understood about love until now--it's a colossal risk, but if you're lucky it comes with its own safety net.

And not only is the odd tightness in his chest eased by the contact and her quiet words, but the intellectual part of him lights up again with admiration. In a way, Molly's been deducing him this whole time, using the cues he gives as a way to figure out the best path forward and letting him read that she's sincere about it.

"I know," he says. (Some brief electrical connection between his heart and his brain files away part of what she says and turns it into a promise: Tom will always be her ex.)

"And--to be fair, the practice did pay off."