Meetings. The idea of facing my peers and turning in my one-year chip sucked. We didn’t like to call it the walk of shame, but that was exactly what it was. But disgrace, and the desire to avoid it, was a powerful motivator.

After setting up my coffeepot, I grabbed a large trash bag and collected the three empty wine bottles, which I stowed under the kitchen sink. For the secret drinker, cleanup was a key step. Couldn’t have the empties lying about.

As the fresh pot of coffee gurgled, the front doorbell rang. The list of people who could make it past the security door was short. I wasn’t interested in seeing anyone and was tempted to just wait them out.

The bell rang again.

“I know you’re in there,” Brit said. “I can smell the coffee.”

Shit. The woman had radar. No doubt, Brit had been thinking about that glass of wine she’d left out on the counter, like bait in a trapper’s snare.

Drawing back my shoulders, I moved to the door. A quick glance in the side mirror told me I didn’t look like a complete dumpster fire. Not my best, but presentable.

I opened the door to Brit and David. A doubleheader. How lucky could a girl get?

Brit eyed me closely, taking in my face, hair, and clothes. Narrowing eyes scrubbed off my makeup to see the woman behind the mask. “Good morning!”

“Good morning.” My voice sounded like rough gravel, forcing me to clear my throat. “Sorry. I was up late editing.” Lying also came naturally to a secret drinker. I’d often joked at meetings that if I were Wonder Woman, I’d have a Lasso of Lies.

“Morning, Marisa,” David said.

“Hey, David. How’re you two this morning?” I stepped aside and let them in. The sooner they said their piece, the faster they’d leave.

Brit’s gaze swept the apartment, searching for the bottles. She looked a tad disappointed when she didn’t see any. If David hadn’t been here, she’d have searched under the kitchen sink in the trash can, but with him, appearances trumped validation.

“We have news for you,” Brit said.

“Oh?”

“We wanted you to be our first,” David said.

“First?”

Brit held up her hand, displaying a white-gold ring with a solitaire diamond. “We’re engaged. David popped the question last night.”

I had to admit I was shocked. My sister, who thought out every move carefully, had accepted a marriage proposal from a man she’d known eight weeks. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

“We know it’s a bit fast,” Brit said.

“But the heart wants what the heart wants,” David said.

I studied the ring. Not Brit’s style, and I wondered how long it would be before she had the diamond reset. “It’s lovely.”

David took Brit’s hand in his. “I hope you’re happy for us.”