Fool Me Forever (The Confidence Game 2)

That was likely the best option for Lenny, as much as it hurt to hear it.

Cal gave him a wry grin. “It’s not enough.”

“If you think I’d interfere in Lenny’s life again, you’ve had too much sun.”

“You went hunting for a despot together and bagged him. I’d call that a triumph.”

“I knew Easton Bradshaw was a problem, and I did nothing about it. I could’ve saved Lenny that pain.”

Cal rocked back in his chair. Halsey knew he’d scored a hit. He’d never wanted to be so wrong in his life.

“We go after the wealthy who scam and disadvantage others. We don’t try to change their behavior. We just put their money to better use. We’re cons not therapists. Easton would never have been on our radar, and you can’t have known what he’d become. But I’d feel the same way if I’d left Fin unprotected. You’re in love with Lenny, and that’s not something sitting behind your desk will help you deal with.”

No point fencing around with this. “I love her too much to hurt her again.”

“The life Lenny knew is over. You’re hurting her now by not giving her another choice.” Cal stood. He pulled Amelia’s drawing off the cork board and put it on the desk. “Breathe fire, Halsey. A comfort zone is aiming too low. Take a risk. Lenny might just agree to take it with you.”

Breathe fire, be tamed by the woman he loved. Lenny was the chance of a lifetime. Rarer than an alicorn. The one collectable he couldn’t afford to not pull out all the stops for and would cherish for the rest of his life.

When he looked up, Cal was gone, and it was time to acknowledge the only comfort zone he wanted was the one where he conned Lenny into giving them another chance.

Going to her in a fever wasn’t going to help this time. This was no spontaneous act. This was his future, and he needed a plan.

It was the end of the work day by the time he arrived at D4D. He had to hope it wasn’t too late for everything he intended to risk.

Last time he’d stood outside this office door, he’d been filled with reluctance, resentful he had to clean up after Cal and Fin, bothered by the argument he could hear, and looking for any excuse to escape.

He’d changed. He knew himself better, because he’d come to know Lenny. He wasn’t ready to give up how being with her lit up his life, or the idea he could give her another way to see her dreams come true.

The clack of a keyboard told him she was at her desk when he walked in. “I told you already I’m not in the market for discount office supplies,” she called.

Her voice stopped him—the sharp tone, the weary undertone.

“Hey, you out there. Did you hear me? Not buying.”

“You haven’t heard what I’m selling yet.”

The clacking stopped, and she appeared in the doorway. He hadn’t seen her in 744 hours, 44,640 minutes, and 2.7 seconds. How was that enough time to have forgotten how lovely she was? How it made him feel just to be close to her, like he could scale mountains and jump out of planes, take down bigger crooks than he was, and still want to make snacks for her every morning at 3:00 a.m.

She seemed surprised to see him. He was too tense to know if that was good or bad. “I’m not in the market for a Warhol,” she said. “You got any fake da Vinci’s?”

She was barefoot and had shorter hair. It flicked around her face, but it would still be long enough for him to tuck behind her ear. “What I’m selling is more valuable.”

She leaned against the doorjamb. “Let’s hear it. But you should know I’m stubborn. I don’t like to give up. I have a problem with trust, and I’m not good at taking advice.”

Being stubborn took guts. Tenacity was a gift. Only fools trusted lightly. Advice was often overrated.

He walked across to the big central table where she’d once beaten up a notepad. He was riding on a high-octane mix of hope and daring, as he put his parcels down and arranged them.

She watched but didn’t come any closer. Her breathing was unsteady, the nonchalant lean was an act.

He laid down the flowers and the Lic-Lac chocolates. He set out his three red Dixie cups and the box of four drinking glasses, and then he gestured for her to come closer.

She looked at her feet. “I sold my apartment to pay Easton’s legal fees and set Mom and Mallory up. I’m thinking of moving to Florida. I’m guessing you know that.”

“I want to talk to you about the other part of that plan.”

She looked up. “Changing my name? I haven’t decided.” She shook her head. “I haven’t decided about anything.”