Gene looks so hurt, and the way Jim runs his hand down her back triumphantly, Alex for a moment thinks she's made the wrong choice.
Molly's scarf, Molly's smell though is intoxicating and she clings to the fabric like it was her touchstone. And it was. "Goodbye, Gene." she manages softly. He doesn't respond. Keats guides her away, back down the street, whistling a merry tune.
She doesn't know why he has to rub it in. Alex feels crushed. They're around the corner before Jim notices her melancholia again, and puts his baby-soft hands on her cheeks. "Cheer up, Alex. None of this is your fault." She can't seem to meet his eyes. Jim kisses her on the forehead instead and tucks her into his arms.
Alex is about as helpless as a kitten and lets him. "Let's get you to your daughter, yeah? I know the place." One arm around his shoulders, Alex gets a glance at his watch as they pass under a streetlamp. 9:06 it says.
It's always 9:06.