She squared her shoulders as if reaching a decision and then tilted her chin upward. “You go on out and have a seat. Would you like wine? Or do you want me to mix up something for you?”

He opened his mouth to tell her that he’d take care of it, but something in her eyes stopped him. There was a quiet desperation, almost as if she was barely clinging to her composure.

“Wine would be great,” he said softly. “You choose something for both of us. I like everything I’ve stocked here so I’m good with whatever you pick out.”

He left the kitchen, his chest tight. The next weeks were going to as they found their way in the new reality of their relationship. He had confidence that it would work out, though. He just had to be patient.

A few minutes later, Dara came into the living room carrying two wineglasses and a bottle of unopened wine. She looked disgruntled as she set the glasses down on the coffee table.

“Can you open the wine?” she asked hesitantly. “I couldn’t get the bottle opener to work properly. I’m sure I’m not doing it right.”

He reached for the bottle and let his fingers glide over hers. “Relax, Dara. Take a seat. I’ll pour.”

Reluctantly she backtracked and sank down onto the couch. In truth she still didn’t look well and it wouldn’t surprise him if her head was still hurting her. Her brow was wrinkled and she looked tired. Maybe a glass of wine would ease some of her tension.

He opened the bottle and then poured a glass for her first. After pouring his own, he set the glass on the table and took a seat in the armchair diagonal to where she sat on the couch.

“Your father wants us to host a cocktail party in a week or two,” he said.

“Us?” she squeaked. “As in you and me? Why wouldn’t he want Mama to host it? She’s awesome at hosting parties. Everyone always talks about how much fun they have when she throws a get-together.”

“He’s going to be announcing some changes at Parkland soon and this is his way of easing into that.

Your father is looking at taking a less active role in the