It's a heady, kind of fantastic thing, the way he looks at her. On one hand, Molly is used to being on the receiving end of this sort of attention, whatever lull she'd settled into over the past year or two before Stephen turned up at her door, having remembered everything. On the other, she'll never really feel about her body the way she used to. With him, she's shed some of that developed modesty — kind of an inevitability, given that they live together — but that doesn't make it any less intoxicating to have him watch her like he can't take his eyes off her.

"Wasn't planning to," she says with a deceptively easy shrug, her fingers brushing against the back of his hand where he's rested it on her waist. "Just thought it would be a good idea to, you know, get dressed. But hey, if you've got other ideas..."