“Sure.” Jill put her fork in her container and reached for the remote on the coffee table.

After picking a comedy from her watch list, they sat in silence enjoying their movie and their food. When they were each about halfway done with their containers, they swapped without exchanging a word as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Reagan placed the empty container on the coffee table with Jill following her lead. Reagan moved closer to Jill and within seconds, Jill rested her hand on Reagan’s thigh.

As they watched the movie, Reagan’s mind drifted to something Jill had said earlier, something about how she was raised. “So, tell me about your family. Gwen was the one with the initial contact with your mother, so I don’t really know anything about them aside from meeting your mom at the tasting.”

Jill stiffened at the words and removed her hand from Reagan’s leg, clasping her hands together in her lap. “Not much to say.”

“There should be plenty to say. They’re your parents. Do you have any siblings?”

Jill sat up straighter and put some distance between them. Reagan immediately missed Jill’s warmth. “First off, it’s my mother and stepfather. He’s not my father.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. How long has he been your stepfather?”

“Since I was born.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why don’t you like him?”

Jill grabbed her glass of wine and took a big gulp. “My mother got knocked up when she was nineteen by some guy who my grandfather always referred to as ‘trash.’ My grandfather didn’t want anything tarnishing the Prescott name, so he made a deal with the son of his law firm partner, my stepfather. He married my mother in exchange for an immediate partnership in my grandfather’s law firm. So, I’ve had to deal with him since the day I was born.” Jill knocked back the rest of her wine before standing and making her way into the kitchen. With jerky movements, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey, poured a splash into a rocks glass and drank it. “Want some?”

Reagan shook her head. Guess I brought up a touchy subject.

Jill poured herself two fingers of whiskey before returning to the couch—farther away with her knees pulled up to her chest. She sipped her drink as she blankly stared across the room.

Reagan hadn’t meant to bring up something that obviously caused Jill a lot of pain. She debated whether she should press on or just get up and leave. Looking at the expression on Jill’s face made the decision for her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You having a shitty family.”

Jill shrugged and took another drink. “It’s fine. I survived. Some would even say I thrived.”

“You did. You’re very successful. There’s no arguing that.”