I nod. “Okay, then. I’ll do the same. But maybe we can do it on our own side by side?”

Her smile lights up her face. “Deal. But I do have a little confession.”

My eyes narrow at her mischievous tone. “Yessssss?”

“I got rid of the ugly running shoes you got me. I like my pink ones way better.”

I let out a sigh. “You’re going to regret it in thirty years. Your joints will be shot, and you’ll have to buy special, ugly orthopedic sandals because your feet are all gnarled, and if it gets really bad—”

“If it gets really bad, I can borrow your snake cane,” she interrupts. “It’ll be my turn to be the cranky cripple.”

I lift her up off her feet. “And I’ll be there for you. Always.”