A bottle of wine sat on the bottom shelf, label facing out like it wanted to be seen.
Lady froze.
She didn't remember putting it there. She didn't remember seeing it the last time she opened the fridge. She remembered, very clearly, deciding she wasn't going to keep her demons in the house. That had been the agreement.
Heat climbed up her neck so fast it felt embarrassing.
She hadn't made speeches about it. She hadn't turned it into a program. She'd just made it a rule, quiet and non-negotiable, the way you do when you've learned what your brain will try to buy with relief.