Jim insists on making sure she gets home all right. She won’t let him in the car. She won’t get inside his. “Let me call Molly to come and get you,” he suggests.
“All right,” Gemma snuffles. “Only, really, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Jim says, looking for the number he needs in his cell phone. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but I’m not leaving you to drive like this.”
Gemma puts her hand out to stop him from completing the call. Molly trusted Jim. She could try to. At least a little. “Okay,” she says. “Okay.”
“Let’s go for a walk,” she says, starting down the sidewalk.
Jim nods, puts their food in his car and catches up with her.