"Terrible," Maeve answers, turning her head to look at Steve beside her on the bed. She reaches over, hand dropping to Steve's stomach as well, fingers dancing across his skin. Her lips graze the skin of his shoulder, then she kisses his shoulder properly, leaning her mouth against him.

She's glad to be back here, back with him. She's glad to know this thing between them isn't going to be ruined by something they don't need to make a decision about right now. Maeve still feels certain, but she has to allow that maybe she won't always. Maybe.

There are no promises, but she supposes there are no absolutes either.