Page 67 of When We Were Younger

I pull my tablet out of my bag and open it to the files outlining a more detailed version of what I just said, including the financials and projections Kira and I came up with. I slide it across the table, and James looks at it but doesn't take it.

"And what do you need me for?" he asks, and a little part of me dies inside. I'm not too proud to beg, but I was hoping he wouldn't make me be so outright.

"Money. The only thing I find myself lacking is funding. I spoke with Kira and she mentioned that you might be in a place where you're looking for investment opportunities."

James holds up a hand, and I shrink a little further into my seat.

"I'm gonna stop you right there. You clearly put a lot of thought and work into this. You've got a good story, and I'm sure if I investigated you and your dad's business, I'd find that you were a solid credit risk. You said he's been at it for thirty years? Any bank worth its salt would be willing to give you a loan unless you've got a shady history you haven't mentioned. So don't bullshit me, Stephen. I know you need money. I asked why you needme."

This dude does not fuck around. I respect that.

I straighten in my seat, and then take a deep breath.

"Honestly? I need your good favor. I'm in love with someone I think you know. Dottie Lynn Hart?" I forgousing her full name, since I know I'm the only person who calls her Dorothea. James nods, so I continue. "I've loved Dottie for as long as I can remember. Since before I knew what loving another person meant. She is my everything. She is my heart and my soul. She is the reason I wake up in the morning. I'm on a mission right now to make her see that, to hopefully decide that she might love me back, and I want to have something to offer her. I want to show her that I'm more than just that small town she left behind once upon a time. That I'm willing to do anything to be with her, provide for her, that I'll make a home for her wherever she is. I wasn't bullshitting you with my business plan or my desire to see my father retire. That's all true, but you're right. I could go to a bank and get a business loan. My dad has savings, he could retire without me. But that's not good enough. I need Dottie–Dorothea–I need her to know that I'm all in. I'm willing to fully integrate myself into her life, whatever that looks like. I'm willing to get on my hands and knees and beg her best friend's fiancé for money so that I can give her the life she deserves. That's why I need you, James."

James, to his credit, let's me rant like a mad man without a second glance. Though I do wish I could seesomethingin his face so I could know if this was working or not.

A beat passes, then another. I'm tempted to wave a hand in front of the man's face to check his reflexes, but he leans forward and puts his elbows on the table. He plops his chin into his hands and sighs.

"Stephen Hudson, you are lucky you met me today and not a year ago. Love has made me so soft," he says, his eyes glazing over. I’m sure he has his own woman on his mind and not mine, but if it's got him feeling happy and gooey, I'll lean into it.

"I think that love has the tendency to turn even the toughest people into piles of mush," I say, lifting my forgotten bourbon and taking a sip. James mimics me, sipping from his own glass. Then, he reaches to the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a checkbook and a very fancy looking pen. I watch, holding my breath as he scribbles on a check and tears it from the book, flipping it over and sliding it across the table to me.

"Seriously?" I gasp in disbelief as I pick up the check. "Is this for real?"

"The check? No." James snorts. I flip it over and see that he's written a check for five dollars with the words 'To Love's Eternal Glory' in the memo line, like in that one episode ofThe Office.

"The check is symbolic, but the sentiment is real. I'll give you the loan. We can meet in the new year, iron out the details, and have the paperwork drawn up."

I take in a deep breath, and then shake my head in disbelief.

"Thank you, Mr. Adler. James. Seriously. I cannot thank you enough," I say. James leans in, giving me a stern look.

"Listen to me. I want to like you, and I think I will. But let me tell you one thing right now. Dottie is veryimportant to my Georgie, and that makes her very important to me. If you ever, ever hurt her, I will kill you. I won't hire someone; I will personally kill you myself, and I’ll enjoy doing it. Do you understand?"

I realize he's trying to instill the fear of god in me like a protective father, but all I can feel is grateful. Grateful that my Dorothea has this incredible family that she's created for herself. One that is willing to rally around her and lift her up. I hope with everything in me that I'll get the chance to be a part of it.

"I can promise you that that won't happen James. And if it ever does, I will hand you the gun myself," I say, and he smiles. We shake hands, and he signals to the server to bring us another round of drinks.

"So now that that's out of the way, Kira gave me the rundown on the whole situation. Dottie's holed up at Kira's place?"

"Yep. As far as I know, she hasn't left," I say as the serve sets a fresh bourbon down in front of me.

"And you're planning to go over there to talk to her?"

"That's the plan."

James leans back and slings his arm over the back of the booth, humming.

"You know," he says, a wicked hint to his tone "I've got this birthday party for my fiancée coming up…"

37

DOTTIE

I am no longer human. Not fully. I am part couch. I think when I stand up, the cushion will come with me. It has fused itself to my body while I've laid here and done nothing but sob in between episodes ofGrey's Anatomyfor four days.

I'm going to have to pay someone to come clean Kira's place before she gets back. It's pretty gross. Four days’ worth of takeout containers, used tissues, cried-on blankets and countless snack wrappers litter the space around me.

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