“Now why would I do that? Didn’t you hear me say how horrible she was?”

“I did. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t have a night of fun.” Her mom winked.

“What is with you two and trying to get me to hook up with people? First, Dad gave me the third degree this morning and now you. It’s just wrong.”

Her mom and dad looked at each other and laughed. “We want you to remember that you need to have fun.”

“I do. I’m having fun right now. Well, except for this embarrassing interrogation.”

“You need more than this. It wouldn’t hurt to ask a woman out now and then.”

“Geez, okay. I will. But not her. Got it?”

Both parents held their hands up and replied in unison, “Got it.”

Reagan laid down a run and then her discard. “I’m out,” she said with a smug smile.

“What? How’d that happen?” her dad asked.

“Guess you should pay a little more attention to the cards instead of my lack of a love life. Your deal, Pops.”

He scoffed, saying something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “cheater.”

“What was that?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

“Nothing. Just hand over the cards.”

She laughed before stacking the cards and passing them to her dad.

“You two play. I’m gonna check on dinner,” her mom said.

“Are you sure, Mom? I can do that.” Reagan made a move to get up but her mother waved her back down.

“I’m sure. You two have fun.”

Reagan watched as her dad tracked his wife the whole way, their deep love and connection evident in his eyes.

As she moved to take the seat her mom had just vacated, her dad said, “Take care of her.”

She froze and then slowly sank into the chair. “Dad?”

He turned his tear-filled eyes. “When I’m gone, promise me you’ll take care of her. And you’ll take care of each other.”

“I promise,” her voice broke as she tried to hold back her own tears.

“And you need to tell her when you’re hurting, honey. She knows you try to bottle your emotions when you’re around her. She’s strong enough to deal with yours and hers. You need to make sure she doesn’t feel alone.”

“I don’t want her to have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, and I’m not questioning that. She’s your mother. She will always worry about you. Just because I’m dying doesn’t mean that stops. Let her worry about you.”

She looked toward the door as if she could see her mother through the walls. “Okay,” she whispered.