Our ride there is silent.I still haven’t had time to sweep the car for bugs, but I will in the morning.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”Her question repeats in my brain as I park and open the door, but the only real sound is the grating metal of the overhead door closing us both inside my garage space.
When I unlock the entrance to the stark elevator lobby, the scent of pizza greets me. A puffy red delivery bag is sitting inside.Geno.
Of course.Good man.
Memphis’s stomach growls as soon as the rich scent of tomato, basil, and melted cheese reaches her. “That man deserves a medal.”
I crouch down to open the bag and remove the box, leaving the red delivery bag near the door Geno would have entered through. He’ll pick it up in the morning, like he has so many other times before.
“He’s a good one,” I say.
We enter the elevator, and Memphis takes the box from me so I can close the gate and hit the button. It’s a smooth, silent exchange, like we’ve done this together a million times.
This could be us ... late dinners together after long days at work. Someone to smile with on the good days. And on the bad days, having someone to fightforinstead ofwith.
The thoughts pop into my head, but I shove them down.Not until I hear everything.
With more silently choreographed moves, we enter my apartment, and I slide the pizza across the counter and grab two plates from the cupboard, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She waits for me to take a seat on one of the stools and I reach for the box, but instead of opening it, I rest my hand on top of the cardboard.
“I don’t share my pizza with people who lie to me. For every bite, I want the truth.”
Her form crumples and her elbows rest on either side of the plate, her hands catching her drooping head. “I’m so fucking sorry, Cannon.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, and in them, I read anguish and guilt and myriad other emotions that send a shot of hope straight to my chest. Even if I can’t see the real her beneath the makeup, contacts, and hair, her sincerity is as clear as the well-lit New York skyline outside my windows.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I mean, that’s not true. I did mean to deceive you. To lie to you. That’s why I came. But I didn’t mean to ...” She trails off and sucks in a deep breath, like she’s gathering her nerve.
“You didn’t mean to what?” I ask before she can pull herself together. “To make me fall in love with you?”
I study her so damn closely that I see every tiny movement of her face, her hands, her lips, her chest. When she squeezes her eyes shut, the hope I feel dissipates a fraction more with each passing second.
But when she opens them again, shiny with tears, hope returns with a vengeance.
“I didn’t mean to fall in love withyou.” She shakes her head, and the blond strands of her wig curtain her face until she brushes them away and meets my gaze. “But I couldn’t help it.”
She glances up at the ceiling again, like she can’t handle the eye contact. “God, I’m so bad at this. I’m the one who asks the hard questions and hides behind my job. I don’t get put on the spot or grilled or interrogated.”
Everything she says makes perfect sense. Memphis Lockwood has a reputation for being a bulldog of a reporter, pushing and shoving her way through obstacles until she discovers the truth. But this woman, the one sitting two feet from me, isn’t Memphis Lockwood. My gut says even if that is her real name, everything else aboutthatpersona is fake too. I’d bet this building on it.
I lean in, searching for the truth right in front of my face. “Which one is the real you? Any of them?”
With her lips pressed together in a tight line, she meets my gaze once more. “Every time I’ve been alone with you, I was moremethan I’ve been in over a decade. And when I ditched the wig and the contacts and the makeup, I felt like I was stripping myself bare. I don’t do that around anyone. Ever. Not even my own stepmother.” She reaches out one hand and covers mine on top of the pizza box. “I know you have absolutely zero reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. I didn’t mean to show you the real me, but I couldn’t help it.”
Even though I believe every word, I can’t let down my guard yet. Not until I’ve aired all my suspicions. “But you were hunting for evidence that you planned to turn over to the cops or the Feds to get me and Dom and the rest of the Cassos convicted of whatever you found so that we’d go down for your father’s death.”
“No.” Memphis shakes her head, and her hand tightens on mine. “I would never have let that happen. I couldn’t. At first, I thought I could, but then once I got to know you, I knew it was impossible. You couldn’t have had anything to do with it. There’s just no way.”
“That’s some pretty strong faith to have in another person that you barely know,” I say, considering her statement and wondering if I can make the same leap.
I have a choice to make, right here, right now.
I can believe her, take her words at face value—or I can hold tight to the feeling of distrust that’s already slipping away from me. But I can’t make this decision yet, as much as I want to.
Instead, I lift both our hands with the lid of the box, and the scent of the fresh-baked pie wafts out in a cloud of steam. “Eat before it gets cold.”
Her gaze pins me, but she makes no move to take a slice. “I’ve never not solved a case. I’ve never walked away without an answer. Ever. I don’t know how to leave something unfinished. But if you tell me that it’s the only penance you’ll accept, I’ll try to find the strength to walk away from this. Either option leaves me with a broken heart, and I figure I’ve earned that for what I did.”