“I’m out of shape.” “False. Your shape is fucking delicious. It’s the rest of you I have a problem with. Next.” “What if I fall again?” I choked out. “You won’t,” he barked out impatiently. “How do you know?” “Because I’ll always catch you.” He threw his hands out, exasperated, as if the mere idea revolted him. “When have I ever let you take the hit for something, Dot?” Now that I thought about the question…never. Grumpiness aside, I could always count on Row. To give me a job, drive me around, fix my problems…
