Page 80 of The Perfect Secret

Dan swung around and swore under his breath as his leg protested. A woman had stuck her head out of the diner. He frowned at her.

She opened the door wider. “I’ve seen a lot of people hesitate about going to meetings, and I’ve served a lot of coffee to them as they considered. If you’d like a cup, you’re welcome to it.”

He shook his head. “No. I—”

“—could probably use a seat to give your leg a break.” She tilted her chin toward his leg, held the diner door open wider and he relented. Pointing to the first table in the corner, she smiled. “Regular or decaf?”

“Decaf.”

She brought it over, patted his shoulder and left. He nursed his cup, inhaling the nutty scent and stared out the window. Who would have thought entering the church would be so difficult? He’d made it this far. He’d postponed long enough. Tess needed him to do this. Hannah did too. Hell, he needed it. The waitress returned and he asked for the check. Instead, she sat across from him. “Coffee’s on the house for newbies,” she said. “When you get your one-year-clean chip, come back, and make a donation for someone else’s cup. We’ve done this for years.” She rose and turned to him. “You’re not alone.”

The thought of not being alone, like invisible strings, pulled him out of his seat and propelled him across the street. He entered the church, and followed the taped paper signs for the meeting. As he descended the stairs into the basement, gripping the handrail and moving one step at a time, he shook his head. Funny how an obligation over one cup of coffee could convince him to do what no one else could do. He didn’t want to think too long about what it said about him. He was tired of overthinking. He was tired of wondering.

He was tired of everything.

The doorway to the classroom where the meeting was held was open. He entered the room and sat in the back. No one’s attention was focused on him as the meeting had alreadystarted, and he remained inconspicuous until they made for the coffee machine.

A blonde woman approached him, hand extended. “Hi, I’m Darlene.”

He shook it, feeling uncomfortable, as more people looked him over. “Dan.”

“Nice to meet you, Dan. Are you joining our group?”

“Well…”

“We don’t bite, although the coffee might, depending on who made it.”

He nodded. “I’m good. I just drank some.”

“Across the street? Jewel is a gem, pun intended.” She looked him up and down. Dan wasn’t sure what to make of her. Was she flirting? Trying to decide why he was here?

“You owe her now, so you have to come to at least one meeting.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Doesn’t count unless you arrive on time and participate. We have another one tomorrow at lunchtime. Why don’t you come then?”

Sometimes anticipation was worse than the actual event. He’d hemmed and hawed enough. “Okay.”

That weekend, Dan examined the brochures he’d found on display at the meeting and the booklets his NA group suggested. There was a lot of information to take in. He wasn’t sure what to believe. According to his initial conversation with the people at the NA meeting, and the brochures he’d started to read, he’d gone to the extreme. Cutting off the drugs cold turkey had been admirable. Eliminating everything he loved in his life was overkill. The books and brochures, written by addiction experts, backed them up. Scientific data, case studies and recommendations for moving forward filled his brain. He’dcut things out he’d only needed to limit, ignored things he liked rather than embraced them.

“What are you reading?”

Dan jumped at Tess’s question. He held out the materials. She grabbed a brochure and plopped next to him on the sofa.

“NA, huh?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.” She’d wanted this. He shouldn’t be self-conscious, but he was.

Her eyes lit up. “That’s really good.” She gave him a hug and he inhaled her shampoo and One Direction perfume. His eyes watered—he’d blame it on the perfume. More importantly, she’d hugged him again. “I’m really glad you’re doing this.”

He nodded, throat thick with too many things he should say, but couldn’t.

“I’m going to the JCC with Lexi to tutor.”

There went the moment. “Don’t you mean, ‘May I go tutor with Lexi, Dad?’”

She sighed, the long, deep, drawn-out sigh perfected by teenagers everywhere. “Yes, Dad.”