“You only just finished?” Sam asked as she walked into her kitchen, grabbing wineglasses from a corner cabinet. “Come on, Jill. It’s eight thirty on a Friday night. Please don’t tell me you kept anyone else with you that late.”

Jill shed her suit jacket and draped it over the back of a barstool before claiming the one beside it. She accepted the glass of wine Sam had poured, taking a sip and savoring it. “I’m not that heartless. I let Ash leave at seven.”

“Oh, how generous of you,” Sam replied with a pointed stare. “Let’s head over to the couch. I feel like I’ve been on my feet all day going from meeting to meeting.”

Jill tucked herself into a corner of the couch. She slipped her heels off and pulled her knees to her chest. She took another sip of wine and closed her eyes. Even though she initially fought Sam on hanging out tonight, it was nice to relax with a friend.

Sam sat on the opposite end of the couch, extending her legs and crossing them at the ankle. “So, tell me what’s been going on.”

“Well, aside from all the bullshit at work, my mother decided to have a sixtieth birthday party for dear ol’ Douglas. Get this, I get to do most of the planning.”

“You’re shitting me. Why you?”

“Because it’s my mother. She wants to look like the dutiful wife and show off how much money she can blow on a party but not put in any of the actual work.” Jill raised the glass of wine to her lips, but stopped just short of taking a sip. “That’s not entirely true. She is making the guest list,” she added with a scoff.

“Oh, goody. The same hundred rich assholes she has at every party.”

“I’m sure your parents will make the list.”

“Exactly my point.”

Jill chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll be on it too. Unless you want me to cross off your name when I make the dreaded seating charts.”

“Oh, hell no. A night of free alcohol, people watching, and amazing food. I wouldn’t miss it.” Sam took a sip of wine before locking eyes with Jill. “Wait. There will be amazing food, right? The catering company she hired for Ford’s last birthday was awful.”

“Ugh. My stomach turns just thinking about that night. And yes. I think she’s picked a better one this time. The Taylor Murphy Group? I met with the owner who is also the executive chef at Wren. Don’t think I’ve ever been there.”

“Yes, you have.”

“When?”

“When I set you up with that woman from my office.” Sam snapped her fingers several times before pointing at Jill. “Kirsten.”