Puh-leese. Like I'd let you die. Who would keep me company? And bring me french toast and hashbrowns? And go to the fridge for me when my feets are cold? You, my dear, are invaluable. Until I teach mitch how to fetch beers.

Hahaha. You're a romance writer. Work it into a book, baby.

One of these days. I will come up with a killer nickname. And I will torment you with it as often as possible.