Lydia delivered the food—I averted my gaze the whole time she was in the room setting it up—and we sat down at the small table between the two wingback chairs in the bay window alcove.

The sun was just beginning to set, and the pink and orange hues over the skyline were beautiful indeed. I couldn’t help a satisfied sigh. “It’s a gorgeous sunset.”

“Believe it or not, the Manhattan smog makes it quite pretty.”

I shook my head. “It’s beautiful to me. I don’t get to see the sunset much, as I’m always working during that time.”

“What about the nights your show is dark?”

“I’m not usually outside. You’ve seen where I live. Not really a good view anyway.”

Reid picked up the bottle of wine that had come with the dinner. “Would you like a drink?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want anything to detract from the natural high coursing through me. “I really don’t drink much. Not after being so dependent on drugs for so long.”

“You drank Champagne at the wedding.”

“I did. It was a special occasion.” Plus I’d been nervous as hell, meeting the Wolfes and having just told them my story.

“Tell me about your addiction,” Reid said.

I averted my gaze. It wasn’t something I talked about. “Alcohol was never the problem. It was meth.”

His eyes widened. “Meth? For how long?”

“Years.”

He regarded me as I took a bite of salad, his gaze focused on my mouth.

I chewed and swallowed. “The settlement from your father,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re wondering why I don’t have meth teeth. I have good teeth, so I had minimal problems from the drug use, but the problems I had I got fixed with some of that money.”

“I see.”

Did he think less of me now? He hardly could. He already knew my history of addiction and rehab. He just didn’t know I’d been a meth head. I took another bite of my salad. Even though we’d just had sex for a couple hours, the appetite I’d worked up had waned quickly.

I didn’t like to think about my past.

“You’re a strong woman, Zee,” Reid said.

I lifted my eyebrows. Not what I expected.

“You took the bull by the horns,” he continued. “You got clean. You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I could have turned your father in,” I said.

He shook his head. “It was better that you didn’t. He would have made your life a living hell. He would have gotten out of it somehow.”

“But I might have been able to save some of the others.”

“Don’t play the what-if game,” Reid said. “I’m a master at it, and it never changes a damned thing.”