“Where are you going?” She furrows her brow when I put on my blinker to turn right at the light near my apartment instead of left. I grin.

“I still don’t have any furniture,” I tell her. “I was hoping you could help me pick out some stuff.”

Her eyes widen and then her entire body relaxes. She grins. “Are we going to West Elm?”

“Does West Elm sell couches?”

She smacks my chest. “Are they even open this ...