Perhaps you had been rather out of it while babysitting the Scavo children, but that was a one-time thing. Lynette had simply caught you at an unfortunate time.

Yes, you were content to tell yourself this. Content to believe your guilt would pass. Content to believe that Lynette would forgive you. This was why the line of empty bottles on your porch frightened you so.

You recognised those bottles. Alcohol that you had downed lately. In the neck of one sat a note, written in Lynette's neat hand.

"Do you still think you don't have a problem?"

Across the street, Lynette eyed you with a steady gaze. Her expression gave nothing away.