Page 22 of False Confidence

He took his time, twirling his pasta around his fork before answering. “What do you want to know? I assume you don’t want details.”

“Christ, no.”

Liam hid his smile behind his pasta as he took a bite. Had Maggie noticed how quickly she’d adopted a little bit of an Irish lilt from his dad with certain words?

“We’re just… having fun,” he offered, the explanation sounding half-hearted even to his ears.

“So you’re sleeping together. Casually.” She raised a brow.

“I guess you could call it that.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Casual sex didn’t exactly stay casual for me and your dad,” she pointed out, and Liam grimaced. He didn’t want to think about that.

“We’re not you.”

“No, you’re not. But I also don’t believe it’s casual for you. I’ve seen how you look at her—how you’ve always looked at her. The only person who doesn’t seem to know how you feel about Jazz is Jazz.”

Jesus, had he really been that transparent? Fuck. “Okay, yes. I have feelings for her. I like spending time with her,” he said, carefully. “And by some miracle she likes spending time with me, so?—”

“Whoa. What does that mean? Why wouldn’t she like spending time with you?” Maggie looked personally offended on his behalf that anyone might not enjoy spending time with him. But Liam still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that Jasmine was on board with his proposition.

“Nothing. I’m just saying we like spending time together and we’re having fun right now. That’s all.”

“I don’t want to see you get your heart broken again,” Maggie said quietly, her face full of concern. A warm feeling settled over him.

“That’s not going to happen. You don’t have to worry.”

“Of course I’m going to worry. I love you both.”

“And we both love you. But it’s going to be fine. I promise.”

Maggie’s concerned expression didn’t shift, but she nodded, sitting back in her chair. “I have an awful feeling I’m about to learn a lot more about you than I want or need to know. You know Jazz isn’t going to keep the details to herself.”

He winced. As much as Liam didn’t want Maggie knowing anything, he hoped Jasmine would tell her, if only so she finally told her about her lack of orgasms. “Let’s just agree that you and I will never talk about it.”

“Deal. As long as you’re happy.”

“I am. I promise.” He’d be happier tomorrow, when he’d finally see Jasmine. A day apart already felt like a year.

I don’t think it’s casual for you.

When it came to Jasmine, casual wasn’t an option.

Jazz spun around, taking in Liam’s apartment while Liam made tea and pretended he wasn’t watching her, gauging her reactions to his place. She hadn’t been here since she’d helped Maggie and Cal pack up Cal’s stuff to move out, and Liam had made the place his own.

When Cal had lived in the Seattle penthouse, it had looked like any old millionaire bachelor’s apartment. Now, it looked like Liam. He’d painted the walls a soft, warm brown, covered the mahogany floors with plush rugs, and a giant modular couch took up the center of the room. From its configuration, she could tell Liam used it as a cozy reading nook—he had it set up almost like a bed, with a bunch of blankets and fuzzy pillows. His Kindle was resting on the arm of the couch, and he had no TV that she could see.

Any wall that wasn’t lined with a bookshelf was covered in art. Liam didn’t seem to favor any particular style; contemporary pieces were hung beside prints of classic paintings. It shouldn’t work, but everything he’d chosen complimented each other perfectly. That was his thing, she supposed. She’d never made it to the Seattle Art Museum to see the exhibits he’d worked on before he’d been fired, but she wouldn’t know a good art piece from a T.J. Maxx special anyway. What she did know was that Liam had a beautiful eye. Unsurprisingly.

“What do you think?”

Jazz paused her perusal of his bookcases and peered over her shoulder just in time to see Liam setting their tea down on the coffee table. She didn’t understand his preference for tea over coffee, and he would never convert her entirely, but she could admit he made a nice cup.

“It feels cozy. Like you. I like it.”

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