Brittany had taken the excitement and turned it into shame.

“Then we’ll find people who appreciate your baking,” I said.

She raised one eyebrow.

“Not if you plan on starting another argument with a spoon.”

I laughed despite myself.

So did she.

Before leaving, I checked that she had the medication she needed for the weekend and wrote down the pharmacy’s hours on a sticky note.

She told me to stop fussing.