One Night Wife (The Confidence Game 1)

“I had a confrontation with my ex this afternoon.” Rory’s handiwork had faded to nothing, and oddly, that gave him a pang of regret. “That’s why I was in the pub.”

“You argued.”

“She argued my face deserved slapping, and she won her case.”

“My ex’s name was Win—not short for anything. I was always called Fin growing up, but we couldn’t be Fin and Win, that was too awful. I essentially changed my name for a guy who cheated on me.”

“Her name is Aurora, and she works for me. My family have all sided with Rory. This makes life extremely complicated.”

Fin laughed. “A fine pair we make. I got dumped. You did the dumping.”

“Not like I enjoyed it.”

“No, you were saving Rory from making a mistake she’d regret for the rest of her life.”

He frowned. “Why does everyone think that’s a dreadful thing? Would you have been happy married to Win? Finley and Win forever.”

“I should’ve insisted on Finley and Winley.”

Funny, but neither of them laughed.

“I underestimated how much Rory assumed we’d stay together. But I didn’t cheat on her.” Not in the usual way.

“You want a medal for that?”

Now he laughed. “Yes, I suppose I do.” Which made no sense. He was used to being the bad guy. It was his specialization, except with family, with people he loved, and apparently, women who ravish him in Irish pubs. “There’s no way to make it better now.”

“Yes, there is. You can change. Don’t be an emotional cheat. Don’t lie. Don’t lead people on. Honesty is the best policy.”

He stopped breathing, stared at her.

Cheating, lying, leading people on. They were his defining characteristics. They were skills passed down generation to generation. The Sherwood motto was, nec sinitur quiescere te homini honesto—you can’t cheat an honest man. But that was only because they couldn’t very well use you can fool all the people all of the time, despite it being essentially true.

People like Fin, open and trusting, were simply ripe for being conned by people like Cal, devious and calculating. He had a strong urge to get up and walk out, but she was talking.

“That’s what I’m doing. I’m changing. I told you I was tenacious, but you were right. I’m not. You were right about a lot. I need to learn how to keep at something. Try not to be such a flake anymore. To have more courage. To stick. I never stuck with anyone before Win. If something got too hard in a relationship, in a job, I’d quit, move on. I don’t like that about myself, so I’m changing it.”

“Who said you were a flake?”

“My family. Pretty much anyone I know. It goes with the professional territory.” She struck another pose, hand behind her head, iconic Hollywood beauty. “I was an actor.” Down came her hand. “But not a very good one, if you judge by the amount of auditions I failed. I’ve had some TV commercials and a few minor roles on stage. I was a Lands’ End catalogue girl for a while, but it got hard, so I quit going to auditions and started waiting on tables and pulling beers. Finally, I realized I didn’t have what it takes to deal with rejection. I even tried being a drama coach, but I quit that, too, because I felt like a fraud encouraging people to do what I failed at.”

“That’s a harsh appraisal. It’s notoriously difficult to succeed in the performing arts.”

“I was told over and over what I needed to do to get cast. More of these.” She plumped her tits and then pouted. “More cheek, more lip, more voice coaching, more acting lessons. I got points for hair, but since hair is often a wig, that barely matters. Win even offered to pay for implants, but all that was too hard. Yes, it’s difficult to succeed as an actor, but it’s not like I didn’t know that, and it’s not like it’s not difficult for everyone who isn’t Jennifer Lawrence. I can make all the excuses in the world for quitting, but quitting is what I do.

“I quit Little League. I quit on my own band. I’d have quit college, but I met Lenny and she basically sat on me so I couldn’t quit. If I’m honest about Win and me, I quit on him before he quit on me. Dollars for Daughters is my last stand. I always wanted to do something useful other than collect strays and give to homeless people and this is it. If I walk away now that we’re in trouble I might as well—” She clamped her mouth shut, her shoulders tightening, one fist balling in her lap.

Cal leaned forward. “What?”

“I don’t know.” Fin slapped her hands on the arms of the chair. “I even quit on monologues.”

“Don’t discount quitting. Sometimes quitting is what it takes. Sometimes you have to quit on a bad situation to find a better one. I quit on Rory, and it was the right thing to do for both of us.” Even if Rory didn’t see it that way yet. On the grift, quitting was an essential element of success. You quit if the mark wised up. You quit so you could stay on the grift. “Quitting on surgery sounds like good sense to me.”

“Don’t help me make excuses. I could’ve quit going to auditions where tits counted and focused on being a character actor, but I quit altogether instead.”

“Your tits count.” She shot him a look of incredulity. “More than adequate.”

She snorted. “You did have your hands all over them.”