When she turned back, he was wiping the tears off his cheeks. Her father had never been shy about his emotions, which she’d been grateful for as she’d grown up. It had helped her feel as if having emotions was a normal part of life.

Before her dad could deal the cards, her mother yelled from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready!”

“Think you’re able to make the trek to the dining room? Or do you want me to bring you a plate?”

Her dad raised an arm and flexed his bicep. “Are you saying I don’t look strong enough to make it?”

“Of course not. You look as strong as Thor.”

“You’re damn right I do,” he said with a wink.

“Goofball,” she replied before yelling, “Be right there!”

She helped her dad stand by grabbing onto his elbow and lifting as he pushed out of the chair. They shuffled to the kitchen, and Reagan looked up to find her mother smiling at them with the same look her father had earlier. Maybe one day she’d have someone look at her like that too.

Chapter Four

After a weekend filled with work, Jill, her team, and Harrison had presented their proposal to their new client, a sports drink company. Like always, Harrison had taken most of the credit when the client praised the work they’d seen. She’d had to smile and nod like it’d been the truth, only venting her frustrations when she was back in her office with Ash.

Now she sat waiting in the office of the Taylor Murphy Group when she should have been working. Damn her mother for interrupting her life with this nonsense. Not that it was surprising. Her mother liked to inconvenience herself the least, especially when it concerned her womanizing husband.

Jill was pulled from her musings by the sound of her name.

“Ms. Jacobs?” asked a woman with warm brown skin, short black hair buzzed on the sides, and a wide smile. She had the androgynous look nailed in vest, bow tie, and button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

“Jillian Jacobs,” she replied, extending her hand for a firm shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Gwen Taylor, co-owner of TMG and executive chef at Wren. We’ll head down the hall into the conference room so I can hear more about your ideas for this party. Birthday, right?”

Jill followed Gwen down the hall and into a room with a long table and about ten chairs around it. Several folders and papers were lined up in front of the chair at the end of the table closest to the door. “Yes, that’s right. Sixtieth birthday party for my stepfather.”