Page 93 of False Confidence

“Promise me something, Rosie. Promise me you won’t stop trying. Not for them, but for you. Because once you stop, fuck, it’s hard to start again.”

Rose’s eyes widened, but she nodded. “Yeah. I promise. I’m looking forward to figuring out how to live for myself, and not for them.”

“I’ll be here for you,” Jazz promised. “Whatever you need.”

Rose gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you. And I promise not to be in your hair for too long. I don’t suppose you know anyone looking for a roommate?”

Jazz remembered a hazy conversation she’d half paid attention to a couple of days ago before her first coffee of the day had sunk its claws into her. “I think I do, actually. You know Sierra, my assistant? Her roommate is moving to Florida. I could give her your number?”

“That would be amazing. Thank you, Jazz. For everything.”

Jazz felt some of the tension she’d been holding for days, months even, slip away. “Thank you for coming to me. And you’re more than welcome at my place for as long as you want.” She rummaged around in her purse and pulled out her keys, unclipping the apartment keys from her car keys. Rose eyed the paddle-shaped brat keychain Liam had surprised Jazz with after her first orgasm with a touch of judgment, but said nothing. “Did you get your stuff out of Mom and Dad’s?”

“I packed everything, but I couldn’t fit it all in my car. I was going to ask Xan to pick it up once I knew where I was staying.”

Resolve straightened Jazz’s spine. “I’ve got it. Leave it with me.”

She made two calls from the road: one to let Cal know she wouldn’t be making it back to the office for the last couple hours of the workday, and one to Liam, to let him know she would be staying with him for a while until Rose found a place. Her apartment might have been big enough for the two of them if she didn’t have so much stuff, but she couldn’t fix all her problems at once. That would come later.

Thankfully, Liam’s phone went to voicemail, so she didn’t have to hear him smugly call her girlfriend. God, she loved him so fucking much.

She pulled up outside the house and took a deep breath. She could do this. Gravel crunched beneath her shoes, the August sun beating down on her neck like she needed something else to sweat about. She stopped outside the door, raised her fist, and knocked.

Footsteps sounded beyond and Jazz steeled herself as the door was pulled open. Surprised eyes blinked at her.

“Liam’s not here. He’s working on site today,” Maggie said, eyeing her warily. Her expression alone made Jazz want to get to her knees and beg for her forgiveness.

“I know,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’m here to see you. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Maggie said, her voice warm. “Did you think it wouldn’t be okay?”

Jazz lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I didn’t know what to think, to be honest.”

Maggie opened the door further and stepped back. “Get in here. We’ve said worse shit to each other over the years, Jazz. You’re my person. It’s all good.”

Jazz flinched. It’s all good. Just like that.

That was the old Maggie speaking—the people-pleasing, put everyone else first, scared to disappoint the people she cared about, Maggie. The Maggie she shouldn’t have to be anymore.

Jazz crossed the threshold and closed the door, taking a shaky breath as Maggie reached for her, folding her into a tight hug. “Thank you. But it’s not all good. It wasn’t okay. I have to start holding myself accountable for the shit I do and say.”

Maggie pulled back, an impressed expression on her face. “Okay then. Yeah, let’s talk.”

Jazz followed her through the townhouse, to the big living room the team usually used as their office base. It was quiet, and Jazz assumed Maggie must be the only person working in the office. She’d spread notecards out all over the table, her version of a physical spreadsheet.

They both took a seat on the couch, Maggie waiting patiently, giving Jazz space to open the conversation.

“I love you,” she said, after a moment. “I love you more than anything in the whole world, Maggie. How I acted the other day—how I’ve been acting in general lately… I’ve been so shitty. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean any of what I said. I don’t think you’re boring, and I don’t think you’re overworking yourself. Well, you are, sometimes, but not for the reasons you used to. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for apologizing,” Maggie said, reaching for her hand. “You really don’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

“I do have to apologize. You don’t deserve to be treated the way I’ve been treating you lately.”

Maggie frowned, her brow pinched. “I’ve noticed you’ve not been yourself for a few months. What’s going on?”

“Honestly?” Maggie nodded and Jazz blew out a long breath before continuing. “You got married, and I think that made me panic a little. I couldn’t be happier for you, for the record, but it just made me feel… I don’t know, like you were leaving me behind. You were growing up, and I didn’t think I was ready for that, and then you’ve been making other friends who are all incredible, amazing women who are achieving so much and I’m just… me.”

“Oh. Jazz, I could never leave you behind,” Maggie promised. “I’ve been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone a little this year and meet people, because my therapist told me I should, but honestly? I wanted you with me. But after inviting you so many times, I guess I just assumed you didn’t want to hang out as much anymore.”

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