Chapter 16

" Y ou did what ?"

Maggie stared at Jazz from where she was sitting at the foot of the bed, open-mouthed.

"I told him I loved him. And then when I tried to explain that's not what I meant, he said no take backs ."

Her best friend blew out a long breath and shuffled up the bed, lying on Liam's pillow and facing her. "Shit. I mean, obviously he knows you didn't mean it and was trying not to make it awkward, but… shit."

"Right. Exactly. I don't mean it."

Maggie quirked a brow. "Jazz."

"Hmm?"

"Do you mean it?"

Jazz's lip wobbled before she could stop it. "I don't know what I feel," she cried, tears falling fast down her face. Maggie winced, grabbing a box of tissues from the nightstand and setting it between them.

"Sorry. I forgot day four was a crying day. "

"It's fine." Jazz waved her a way, grabbing a fistful of tissues and wiping her face. Maggie was used to her five-day period schedule, and, thankfully, Liam had taken it in stride when she'd cried on him multiple times on day three, before ordering two pairs of boots, fancy cookies from New York, and a soap making kit.

Liam had insisted Maggie take his place watching Jazz while he went into the office to check some tile samples he'd ordered from Italy. Jazz had tried to work from home, but Cal had put his foot down, insisting she rest at home. So that's what she was doing. At his son's home, and Cal had no idea. It was a constant war of guilt and relief at the fact they were keeping Cal in the dark, but he really didn't need to know who his son was sleeping with, and right now, that's all this was. Kind of.

"Maybe we should wait until you're less hormonal before we try to figure out your feelings," Maggie suggested, rolling onto her back and shooting up. "What the fuck?"

Jazz glanced up and laughed. She hadn't had the chance to tell Maggie about the mirrors on Liam's ceiling yet.

"He has mirrors on his ceiling. Holy shit."

"That's not even the half of it," Jazz said. "I have so much to tell you."

Maggie groaned. "I'm torn between wanting to know it all because it's you, and none of it because it's Liam."

"I can make up a fake name for him, if that helps," Jazz offered, and Maggie shrugged .

"Can't hurt."

Jazz propped herself up on her elbow. "Okay, well Li—shit—Lime?"

"Lime is not a name. It's also basically just Liam."

"Right." Jazz wracked her suddenly empty brain. "I've forgotten every name ever."

"James?" Maggie offered. "Oh shit, no. That's his grandpa's name."

"If we're ruling out Michaelson names, we're going to be here for a while. There're thousands of them." Cal had nine siblings, most of whom were married with kids.

Maggie groaned. "Ugh, just use his name. It's fine."

Jazz gave her best friend a rundown of the night Liam had tied her up, and Maggie's brows climbed higher and higher as she spoke.

"Holy shit. And you still haven't come?"

Jazz growled in the frustration. "Even if I could, he won't let me! He brings me right to the edge and then pulls back every fucking time."

"I thought his whole thing was making people come? That seems like it directly contradicts what he's into."

"I think he's focusing more on what I'm into," Jazz admitted with a sigh. "Which, as it turns out, is being a brat and mild sadism."

"Hot," Maggie offered and Jazz nodded her agreement. "It sounds like he's just making sure you're ready. I'm guessing your first orgasm in a decade is going to be a big deal. You'll probably cry."

"I cry anyway," Jazz replied with a snort. "He licked my tears off last time. "

"Damn."

"Makes you wonder what's up with Grandpa Michaelson," Jazz mused, "if Daddy Michaelson and Baby Michaelson are like this. I guess we know why Cal's parents kept having kids. And stayed married for sixty years."

"I think the sixty years has more to do with how crazy in love with each other they are."

"Yeah, well, apparently that runs in the family too. You and Cal are still disgustingly cute."

Maggie raised a brow. "At least I never accidentally told Cal I loved him before we were even dating."

That was a valid point, but two could play that game. "True, but you did almost go on a date with your now-stepson, and ran off for months the second Cal tried to take care of you," she said with a sugar sweet smile and Maggie whacked her with a pillow.

"Touché. And I'd do it all again to get where we are now." Her face took on the same dreamy expression she always got whenever she spoke about Cal. The one that made Jazz's stomach twist uncomfortably. At least this time, she could blame it on residual cramps.

"Like I said: disgustingly cute."

Why was Maggie comparing her relationship to Jazz and Liam, anyway? It wasn't the same. Anyone who spent more than five minutes with Maggie and Cal could have told them they were meant to be together, meant to get married and live happily ever after.

Jazz's eyes snapped to the doorway as she heard the ding of the elevator in the hallway, followed by the sound of Liam's apartment door opening. She swallowed, her heart picking up speed.

"Speaking of disgustingly cute," Maggie muttered with a soft laugh, and Jazz shot her a glare, turning back to the door just in time for Liam to knock and peek his head into the room. It wasn't like that. They weren't like that.

"Hey."

He stepped into the room, he and Maggie discussing the tiles, but Jazz barely heard them as Liam immediately crossed to her side of the room and leaned in to kiss her forehead.

Her stomach fluttered. Cramps or Liam? Cramps. Definitely cramps.

"How are you feeling, darling?"

"Better," she replied, and he beamed, his dimples popping out. Fuck . Tears pricked Jazz's eyes for no fucking reason. Oh no . She blinked furiously, looking away from him.

"Are you going to cry again?" he asked, running a hand through her hair.

"No." She hiccupped, the word falling through a sob as the tears started streaming down her face. "Fuck, I hate having a fucking uterus."

Despite Maggie's presence, Liam didn't hesitate to drop on the bed behind her and wrap his arms around her, holding her close to his chest and peppering her face with kisses. "It's okay. Let it out and then we'll have ice cream. "

He held her as she cried, while Maggie alternated between sympathetic and bemused smiles. She'd spent years cuddling her and bringing her chocolate when she had her period, so it must be nice to get a break while Liam took a turn.

Jazz was suddenly struck by how, in this moment, she was luckier than she'd ever been. She'd always had Maggie in her corner, and she'd had more casual friends and her siblings who, at a push, would be there for her. But now, she had Maggie and Liam. And she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Cal wouldn't hesitate to take care of her. Eliza and Danisha too. She owed Maggie big time for pulling her into this mis-matched little family, even if she wasn't entirely convinced how exactly she fit into it.

She grabbed the scrunched up, tear-stained, tissues she'd left on the bed and dabbed furiously at her face. Liam took them from her and wiped her cheeks with much gentler hands.

"You guys good if I head out?" Maggie asked, stretching and standing up. "I have to go to work and organize all of our invoices so I can get them to the accountant next week.

"Sounds like a perfect day for you," Jazz said with a watery laugh. No one loved organization like Maggie did. "Did you warn Cal that you're going to be all riled up by the time he gets home?"

Her eyes lit up. "I did. He's leaving work early."

Liam winced. "Gross. "

Maggie raised a brow at him. "I was just lying on your bed beneath your creepy sex mirrors."

"Okay, fine. We're even."

"Not even close."

"Thank you for coming over," Jazz said while Maggie shouldered her bag.

"Anytime."

They waved Maggie off and Liam held Jazz tighter, hooking his leg over hers as if he needed to touch every inch of her. "Lunch?" His voice was muffled against her neck, his breath tickling the spot behind her ear.

"I'm not super hungry. Maybe a bath first?"

"I can do that." Liam pressed a kiss to her cheek before standing up and heading into the bathroom. Jazz watched him go, playing close attention to the way his pants hugged his ass. She wanted to take a bite out of him.

"I can feel you staring at my ass, darling," he called as he disappeared from view. She heard the rush of water as he started running the bath, then the crinkle of a package as he sprinkled what she assumed were Epsom salts in.

Jazz groaned and swung her legs off the bed. She was still achey, even if she was feeling a shit ton better. At least she had a few more months before this happened again.

She followed Liam into the bathroom and discarded her t-shirt—well, technically it was his t-shirt, but there was no world in which she was giving it back. It was warm and soft and it smelled like him .

"Will you get in with me?"

Liam gave her a soft smile, the kind she tucked away in the depths of her memories for days she needed a little boost. "Of course I will."

The warm water felt like heaven as she climbed in. It splashed over her as she settled against Liam's chest and he enclosed her in his arms, humming contentedly.

"This is nice," Jazz murmured, laying her head back and closing her eyes. She'd been known to fall asleep in the bath, especially after a glass of wine or two, but she was safe in Liam's arms. He kissed the top of her head, and she felt the tension of the past few days leeching out of both of them.

"Can I ask you something?"

Liam's tone sounded more serious than she liked. She opened one eye and turned to peer at him. "Depends on what it is."

"Naturally." He toyed at his lip with his teeth before continuing. "What's the deal with your parents?"

Jazz blinked in surprise. She hadn't been expecting that. "What do you mean? You met them. They're awful. They're my parents and for some unknown reason, I love them, even though it probably isn't mutual. That's all there is to it."

She turned away, tears once again threatening her eyes. Jazz was a crier at the best of times, and in her hormonal haze, these certainly weren't the best of times.

"But why are?—"

"Liam," she cut him off. "If I'm going to cry, and I am going to cry, it better not be about my parents. Hormonal crying is reserved for shit that doesn't matter, like the existence of capybaras and videos of babies trying lemons for the first time."

"That is… oddly specific." And yet she'd cried over both in the past twenty-four hours. "But fair," Liam continued. "We can talk about it when you're feeling better."

"Or never."

"Rule number two, darling." Talking about how you feel isn't optional . Jazz huffed, but didn't bother to protest further. She would, when he tried to talk about it more, but not now. Liam wanted to understand her family dynamic, but he never would. He'd grown up with three parents who loved him so unconditionally it almost made her teeth ache. He would never understand, and Jazz was so fucking glad of it.

Liam brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Can I wash your hair?"

"Is it that bad?" Jazz asked, sitting up quickly and peering at herself in the floor to ceiling mirror behind the door. It was too foggy to see much, but she could see enough to know that her hair was in disarray.

"Your hair is fine. You look perfect as always," Liam assured her, sitting up behind her.

"Liar."

He ignored that. "I know you've had a headache over the past few days, and I thought it might help if I gave you a little massage."

Oh. Oh . "Fuck," she said as the tears spilled again, but Liam just chuckled. Apparently Liam being nice to her was her new biggest crying trigger. Maggie had once suggested making a spreadsheet to keep track of all the things that Jazz cried over in a year, and, for the first time, Jazz was actually interested in seeing those stats.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, please."

At some point before she'd made it into the bath, he'd set a small pitcher on the side, alongside her favorite shampoo and conditioner, and even the serum she used. Jazz hadn't even noticed them, and she couldn't remember bringing her hair products over. She only washed her hair once a week in an effort to preserve her color and avoid going to the salon more than necessary, so she always just saved hair washing day for when she was home.

"Were those in my bag? I don't remember packing them."

"I saw them in your shower and picked them up so you'd have them here if you needed them," Liam explained, covering her forehead with his hand so none of the water from the pitcher got in her face. He poured the warm water over her hair and Jazz shivered as it coursed down her spine.

"But you can only get them from Sephora."

"I know. I've actually never been to Sephora before but I now have two new colognes, a whole new skincare routine, and a fancy blow dryer I don't know how to use," Liam admitted, a little sheepishly.

He'd gone to Sephora for her. Jesus. She had to start looking around his apartment for a murder lair or something, because there was no way anyone was this perfect. But it was hard to think about that when he was massaging thirty dollar shampoo into her scalp.

Instead, she murmured her thanks and did her best to ignore the way his answering smile made her heart thud.