Page 97 of False Confidence

Jazz exchanged a wary look with Maggie, who was seconds from climbing into the driver’s side. “Yes?”

Her parents wore matching stunned expressions, like she’d knocked them over the head. And she supposed she had, with a hard truth that had been a long time coming.

“What do you mean you’re not the daughter we wanted?” her dad asked, stepping closer to her. “Of course we want you. You’re our daughter and we love you.”

Jazz took an involuntary step back. She couldn’t remember the last time her parents had told her they loved her. Shit, had they ever? She’d never heard them say it to her siblings either, nor to each other. They hadn’t been that kind of family. Her brain didn’t even know how to process it, let alone believe it.

“Every conversation we’ve ever had has suggested otherwise,” she said, and she sounded more tired than angry. Thirty years she’d been dealing with her parents’ expectations. Thirty. Fucking. Years. The exhaustion was bone deep.

“Nothing I’ve ever done has made you happy. I’ve always known I don’t measure up to Xan and Rose. In fact, I’m pretty sure you saying my boyfriend is a good man earlier is the closest thing to praise you’ve ever given me, and it wasn’t even about me. I’ve built my entire life around the fact that nothing I ever do is good enough, so I might as well not bother, because you’ve never shown me any differently.”

“Jazz.” Tears swam in her mom’s hazel eyes. “You’re our baby. You’re all our babies and we love you exactly as much as we love your brother and sister. I promise we really have only ever wanted the best for all three of you.”

“Clearly,” her dad added, clearing his throat, “we’ve gone around that the wrong way and we haven’t shown you how much we love you. For that, we’re very sorry.” He frowned at his shoes. “And I assume that also applies to Xan and Rose. But we do love you, Jazz. And we are proud of who you are, even if we’ve never told you.”

White noise rushed through Jazz’s brain, rattling the foundation she’d spent thirty years building. It felt a little too convenient for her parents to see the light in one conversation, and Jazz was in no rush to forgive them until they proved they weren’t just saying what they thought she wanted to hear. “I… I don’t know what to say to that. I’m sorry, I just… I need time.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” her mom said, her voice soft and thick with tears. “I can imagine this is a lot for you to process. So take all the time you need. When you want to talk, we’ll be here. Or maybe we can make the drive out to you next time.”

Jazz sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ll think about it. I don’t know when, or if, I’m going to be ready to believe you, but I’ll think about it. And I love you too, for the record.”

She opened the door, and all but collapsed into the passenger’s seat of her car, staring resolutely out of the windshield and not at her parents. Maggie got in a moment later.

“Hey,” she said, wrapping her arms around her from the driver’s seat in a hug that Jazz desperately needed. “You did amazing in there.”

Jazz wiped her face. “Thank you. I—Shit, I’m so sorry.” She would never have asked Maggie to come with her if she’d known her parents would apologize. That was all Maggie had wanted for so long.

“Sorry for what?”

“That you had to see that after everything with your parents. I?—”

“Are you kidding? I’m happy for you. Really. Do I wish my parents had been able to apologize? Absolutely, but no more than I’ve wished your parents would. This is a good thing.”

“You think so? I don’t know if I believe them.” Could she really let herself hope they were being honest and risk being let down again?

“They seemed genuine, but you made the right call asking for time. And if you are going to forgive them, you should definitely make them grovel a little more.”

“Probably,” Jazz agreed with a laugh that slowly turned into a long, drawn out breath. “It all seems too good to be true. My parents apologizing, you forgiving me, Liam loving me. Real life doesn’t work that way.” It was like she’d stepped right into the happy ending of one of Liam’s books.

“Maybe it is all good to be true. But maybe it’s not. You’re never going to know unless you see it through.”

“I guess so. What now?” she asked, and Maggie turned the car on, smiling at her best friend.

“Now you go put Liam out of his misery and stop trying to break both of your hearts.”

Exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders by the time she made it to Liam’s place. She’d offered to stay with Rose, but her sister looked as worn out as she felt, and Jazz knew she needed space. So she’d dropped off her stuff, made sure she had enough for dinner, and left her in peace. She hadn’t told her about what their parents had said. It was up to them to make good with Rose themselves.

Jazz unlocked the front door and was greeted by a tiny bark and a wagging tail. “Hey, baby boy.” She dropped her purse on the floor in favor of picking Bray up and holding him to her chest. He was growing so fast. “Where’s your papa?”

She knew he was here—she could smell garlic and basil and tomato. “Liam?”

He stepped into the living room, his hair wet from the shower. Jesus, how could he possibly look that good when she was this tired? His t-shirt fit snuggly to his body, and Jazz wished it was her wrapped around him instead. It was a print of a painting she hadn’t seen before, but she knew it was Matisse. She had no idea when she’d started recognizing the art styles—perhaps somewhere in the hours they lay awake at night, when she just listened to him talk about his favorite pieces and fell harder and harder for him.

“You’re home,” he said, a smile covering his face as he crossed the room toward her. “Still mad at me?”

“I suppose not.”

Liam chuckled, plucking Bray from her arms and setting him down so he could pull her in for a kiss. “Good,” he murmured against her lips, and Jazz’s heart calmed as she breathed him in.

---