“You don’t have to come up, I know you’re busy.” Emerson lifts the heavy handbag onto her shoulder. “Not too busy for you, sweet girl.” I hold my hand out to her and she only stares at it for a moment before she hands it over. “Keys?” Emerson sighs as we start walking toward the entrance to the stairs, tugging her car keys from the pocket of her jeans. “You’re bossy, you know that?” “Get used to it.”
