For a moment, looking down at her, Jerry wonders what he could have said wrong, already trying to think of a way to backtrack before she speaks. This is all just too fragile still, too tenuous, even if only in his own head, and when he still feels guilty for having kept her waiting, in spite of her telling him not to, the last thing he wants is to upset her. It's just easier to assume than the opposite, that it's a misstep rather than meaningful, a mindset he hasn't fully been able to shake since she showed up. It was too dangerous to do anything else before. Now, it just hits that much harder for it.

He thinks fleetingly that he should tell her just how much, but he can't get that out, either. He wouldn't want to say anything like that at a time like this, anyway, when he's been so wrecked over something so stupid. Instead, he just kisses her again, this time on the corner of her mouth. "Must've been the smartest dumb thing I ever did, walking up to you at that bar."