Page 32 of False Confidence

“No more. I can’t,” he said, and God, he sounded fucking defeated. Jasmine pouted, but sat back on her knees, licking a drop of his pre-cum from her lips. White noise filled Liam’s ears, and he couldn’t even fault Jasmine’s satisfied smirk. She knew exactly what she was doing to him.

Eliza and Danisha lived in a white picket fence dream house in the Seattle Suburbs. From the outside, it looked exactly like the house in Marysville, Washington Jazz had grown up in, but she knew a lot more love existed in the four walls of Liam’s moms’ home. The first time she’d visited, she’d watched Liam interacting with his parents with ease and comfort, and wondered what that felt like. It wasn’t jealousy, as much as resignation. She was happy for Liam, she just wished… It didn’t matter what she wished. There was no point in thinking about something she couldn’t change.

It had been Eliza’s idea to start twice monthly Friday night family dinners, alternating between their house and Maggie and Cal’s place. Though not technically family, Jazz had been included from the first dinner and, unlike her actual family’s dinners, she rarely missed one.

Maggie pulled into their driveway and turned her car off. Jazz and Liam were sitting in the back seat, and Cal, sitting in the passenger’s seat on a call with his parents back in Ireland, hadn’t taken his hand off Maggie’s thigh for even a second of the drive. His silver wedding bands, one on his ring finger, one on his pinky, stood out against Maggie’s dark wash jeans, and Jazz watched as her best friend’s gaze fell to Cal’s hand. A smile curved her mouth, and she lifted his hand to her lips, kissing each ring in turn. Jazz looked away, undoing her seatbelt.

Liam reached across the middle seat, dragging a finger across the back of her hand. Jazz looked at Cal, but he was too focused on his call to pay them any attention.

“Are you coming over tonight?” Liam asked softly.

Jazz didn’t think twice before nodding. “But I want you inside me tonight,” she replied, just as quietly. Though she and Liam had spent three nights together since she’d almost made him come on her couch with her mouth, he was holding back. He’d had his mouth on her, his tongue and fingers inside her, bringing her right to the edge and stopping before she could even consider stepping off. Because even if she could—which she couldn’t—she wasn’t allowed to come.

“We’re taking it slow. I’ve got a plan, darling,” he said, whenever she glared at him. It was killing her.

Liam shook his head, a wicked smile on his face. God, she wanted to lick his dimples. “Not tonight. I’ve got plans tonight.”

“I hate your plans,” she grumbled.

“I promise you’ll like these.”

His voice skittered over her spine, setting the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach aflutter.

“Let’s go, you two,” Maggie said, closing the car door behind her. Jazz hadn’t even noticed Cal saying goodbye to his parents, let alone him and Maggie getting out of the car.

She shook herself, following Maggie. Her phone rang in her bag just as she reached down to grab it from the footwell. By the time she’d found it, rummaging around the messy depths, whoever was calling had been sent to voicemail.

Thank God, she thought as she finally pulled it out and read the notification on the screen:

Mom

Missed Call

Jazz shoved the phone back in her bag and followed Liam, Maggie, and Cal up Eliza and Danisha’s picture perfect stone path to their front door. She’d call her mom back later. Or tomorrow.

But Lilia Cannon was nothing if not insistent, and before Jazz could even step onto the porch, her phone was ringing again. Three heads swiveled in her direction as she cursed, pulling her phone from her bag again.

“It’s my mom. If I don’t answer, she’s just going to keep calling. I won’t be long.” Hopefully. She waved them on and, though Liam hesitated, the three of them disappeared through the open front door.

“Hey, Mom,” she said, forcing the annoyance out of her voice. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Her mom sniffed through the phone. Fuck. Jazz could practically hear her frown down the line. “You know, Jazz, your brother follows Maggie’s husband on Instagram.”

“Okay. That’s…” Weird. “Nice.”

“He’s a very respected man,” her mom chastised. Apparently her skepticism hadn’t been as subtle as she’d hoped.

“Cal or Xander?”

“Both.”

More confused than ever, Jazz rubbed her eyes before remembering, too late, that she was wearing eye makeup. Shit. “Right. Okay. I’m sorry, I don’t really know what we’re talking about here.”

“What we’re talking about is the fact that you have time to take pictures with Maggie’s husband and attend her family dinners, but not ours. Your actual family.”

Ah. She suddenly regretted teaching Cal how to use his Instagram story. “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just that Marysville is a longer drive and?—”

“That’s not an excuse. Your brother and sister make it every month.”

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