Chapter 30

H ad bars always been this loud, or was she just not drunk enough? Sierra had suggested the Greek-themed bar, claiming they had the best garlic fries and cherry old fashioneds in the city. The fries were mediocre at best, but the old fashioneds were delicious.

When Sierra had mentioned the theme, Jazz had been expecting something like a semi-clean frat house, but it was more like a dark academia Pinterest board had thrown up all over the place. There was entirely too much fragile shit dotted around, considering the smell of liquor permeating the air.

Floating shelves were lined with busts and books, globes and typewriters, candlesticks that she was pretty sure had been burned only for decoration. Comfy armchairs were scattered around the room, and the walls were covered in prints, schematics, and pages that looked like they'd been ripped out of old textbooks. There were even tall marble-esque Greek statues, one by the door and another on a dark wood plinth in front of a window .

She really had to bring Liam here. He would love it.

Jazz swallowed the dregs of her cocktail and slammed the glass down on the table a little harder than she intended, the room tilting a little. Maggie raised a brow.

"Damn. Apparently those orgasms you're getting now aren't doing anything to chill you the fuck out."

"Maggie."

"What?"

"We're sitting in a bar on a Saturday night and we're the oldest people here by at least five years. And we're talking about work! Doesn't that bother you?"

"Should it?" Maggie asked, looking confused. Jazz sighed. So much for just like old times .

"Yes! We used to be fun. We used to go on three-day benders and fuck strangers in airplane bathrooms and stay up all night watching shitty Rom-Coms instead of sleeping. What the hell happened to us?"

"We grew up, Jazz," Maggie answered softy, looking at her with concern. "We were in college when we did all that shit, and I wouldn't want to go back even if I could. Even if I didn't have Cal, I have no interest in being that hungover ever again."

She laughed like it was all some big joke, like the panic spreading through Jazz was all in her head. But it wasn't. It couldn't be. She was the fun one; why did it suddenly feel like she didn't even know how to be fun ?

"But don't you miss it? Don't you miss dancing on tables and not giving a fuck about anything?"

"I've never not given a fuck about anything in my life," Maggie pointed out, which was true, but completely beside the point. "And no, I don't miss it. I don't miss any of that. I'm happier now than I've ever been. What is there to miss?"

Jazz pushed away from the table, running her hands through her hair. Maggie didn't get it, and she couldn't explain it, so where the fuck did that leave them? "I need another drink," she muttered, ignoring Maggie's sigh of her name as she walked away.

She leaned against the bar, watching the group of early twenty-somethings beside her toasting a birthday and downing neon yellow shots.

"What can I get you?"

Jazz turned to the bartender. "Whatever they're having."

"One, three, or six?"

God, she hadn't done shots since Maggie's bachelorette party, and even then, only one or two. "Three," she said, and the bartender poured the shots, sliding them across the sticky bar top.

Jazz took a deep breath and threw one back, sour pineapple flooding her tongue. She shuddered, slamming the shot glass down and picking up the second. It was no better, but at least she knew what to expect this time. She picked up the third.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She turned toward Maggie's concerned voice to find her best friend staring at the shot in alarm.

"Shots," Jazz said, wrinkling her nose and swallowing the last shot. "You want some?"

"No?" Maggie was staring at her like she'd grown another head. Jazz rolled her eyes and turned back to the bartender.

"Can I get a Long Island with no ice, please?"

"Sure thing."

Maggie tugged her back from the bar as the bartender started throwing her drinking together. "Don't you think you've had enough to drink?"

"I'm not a child. And what happened to a night just like old times ?"

Maggie leaned back with an exasperated sigh. "I meant a night without Cal and Liam. Not a night where we tried to test the alcohol tolerance we had in college, for fuck's sake. We're too old for that."

Too old for that . Jazz threw her head back and groaned. "Lighten up, Maggie. What's the worst that could happen?"

She swiped her drink from the bar and took a big gulp.

J azz twirled around in time to the music, the beat pulsing through her. What had she been so worried about again? She loved this bar! Everyone was so friendly, the drinks were delicious, the vibes were top tier. Even Maggie was having fun.

As night had fallen, and the dinner crowd had cleared out, the music volume had risen and several of the people still hanging around drinking had started dancing. A group of grad school students on a girl's night had absorbed them into their midst and Jazz couldn't remember a single one of their names. They were celebrating something—a birthday? A graduation? She didn't know, but she clinked her glass and cheered whenever everyone else did.

It was easy to ignore the fact that the girls they were dancing with were closer to Rose's age than her own when she had multiple kinds of liquor flowing through her veins. Maggie had stopped counting her drinks and protesting eventually; she'd even done a shot herself, then forced herself not to throw up and ordered another old fashioned instead.

But she was up, she was dancing, she was holding Jazz's hand as they twirled around each other singing along to songs they hadn't heard since middle school.

"I haven't heard this song in so long," Maggie squealed when one of their old favorites came on, jumping up and down and shaking her hair.

"We spent hours making up a dance for this one, remember?"

"Doing it? Yes. The dance? No chance." Maggie laughed. "Jesus, that was almost twenty years ago. Remember how Hallie used to copy the dances we did?" From the age of eleven, Maggie had been stuck at home most nights, babysitting her younger siblings, which meant Jazz had been there too. Maggie had three siblings and the youngest, Hallie, had trailed them around like a puppy, copying everything they did and swearing she wanted to be just like her big sister when she grew up. And now, like the rest of Maggie's family, Hallie wanted nothing to do with her sister.

"How old would she be now?" Jazz asked.

"Hallie?" Maggie frowned when Jazz nodded, as if struggling to do the math through her drunken haze. "God, she'll be twenty-two in September."

"Fucking hell. How did that happen?"

"She grew up," Maggie replied with a laugh that sounded more pained than anything else. "We all did. Then my parents got their claws in her, and now my baby sister doesn't give a shit about me."

"Maggie—"

"I'm fine, don't worry. I just got in my head a little." Maggie waved her away, sipping from the glass clenched in her hand. It was mostly water from the melted ice. Though she claimed to be okay, Jazz could see the hurt in her eyes. She couldn't fix things with Maggie's family—she couldn't even fix things with her own—but she could distract her.

"Come on," Jazz said, grabbing Maggie's hand and tugging her toward an empty table by the window. She kicked her heels off and climbed up onto a chair, putting one foot on the table before Maggie clocked what she was doing.

"Jazz! What are you doing? You've had way too much to drink for that."

"Live a little, Maggie!"

Maggie pulled her hand. "Get down. You're going to hurt yourself."

But Jazz wasn't paying any attention as she danced on top of the table. The song faded into another one of their teenage favorite and she cheered. "I love this song!"

She jumped, clapping her hands, but when her feet touched down on the wooden tabletop, her foot slid out from underneath her and she toppled from the table, falling to the floor as Maggie cried her name.

Her ass cushioned her fall, but her legs kicked out and she cursed as her foot connected with something hard, blinking in the hope that the room might stop spinning for a second. The fall had knocked the wind from her and her blood was rushing in her ears, which was probably why she didn't hear Maggie screaming until her voice faded in, "… OUT OF THE WAY!"

Jazz looked up as soon as the words registered, with enough time to see the five-foot statue of a Greek goddess teetering on the edge of the plinth, but not enough time to get out of the way. The statue tilted toward her and Maggie rushed forward, pushing it in the other direction.

It was like it happened in slow motion: the statue smashed through the window and Maggie landed on Jazz, covering her head as glass shattered everywhere. Maggie pulled back just in time for them both to watch the statue hit the sidewalk and break into a dozen pieces, scattering all over the concrete.

For a moment, everything but the head of the statue was still. Jazz followed it with her gaze as it rolled along the pavement and halted inches from two on-duty police officers.

Fuck .

Never in a million years could Liam have imagined hanging out with his dad while the two women they were head over heels for had a girls' night at a college bar. Nor could he have imagined his dad, fifty-eight-years-old, sitting on the floor with a catnip mouse in one hand and a mini tennis ball in the other, playing fetch with an overexcited puppy and a cat who wanted nothing to do with him. Peach wasn't happy about her new family member—her nephew, Liam supposed.

Anytime Bray got too close, she hissed at him. Bray, having never met a cat, had no idea what that meant. But his dad had found a way to occupy both of them and keep the peace. He was a professional negotiator, after all, but Liam thought it had more to do with the treats he had stashed in his t-shirt pocket.

Liam snapped a picture of his dad, Peach with two paws on his left knee, Bray copying her on the right. His dad leaned down, kissing them both on the nose. Liam took another picture and send them both off to the family group chat. His moms replied almost immediately:

Mom E

Always knew he'd been a good grandpa! (hint hint, Liam)

Mom D

Leave him alone, Liz.

You wait as long as you want to have babies, honey. Or don't have them! No pressure from us. We love you either way.

Liam laughed and locked his phone, smiling at the picture of Jasmine snuggling Bray in bed that he'd taken the day before, and immediately set as his lock screen. She was grinning, ear to ear, her nose pressed to Bray's with the covers crumpled around her. She had sheet marks on her face, and the nightstand on her side of the bed was cluttered with chapstick, her tumbler, his Kindle because she's stolen it to read the steamy scenes in the book he'd just finished, a handful of loose bills, and a tiny lopsided cactus she'd bought at the grocery store and immediately dropped in the parking lot.

If someone who didn't know them looked at the picture, Liam knew they would think she looked right at home. At his place, with him, and their puppy (that was technically his puppy, yes, but the details weren't important).

They hadn't heard from Jasmine and Maggie, beyond a few pictures when they'd arrived at the bar: a selfie of the two of them, and then almost identical pictures of the dark academia decor with two very different messages:

Maggie

Whoever designed this place didn't have the eye you do for tasteful clutter and detail. Has no one here heard of mood lighting????

Jasmine ?

This place makes me think of you. I love it :)

As much as he appreciated Maggie complimenting his eye for detail, it was Jasmine's message that had made his heart damn near stop in his chest. He couldn't wait to fall into bed with her later.

His dad's phone lit up on the table, ringing loudly. Liam peered at it. "It's an unknown number."

"Can you put it on loudspeaker? It's probably just a spam call, but it could be work."

Liam answered the phone on loudspeaker. "Hello?"

"Liam?"

His dad was on his feet faster than Liam would've thought possible, considering his age, the second Maggie said his name, her voice shaking. Why was she calling from an unknown number, and why the hell did she sound so weary?

"Yeah," Liam replied as his dad sat beside him. "You're on loudspeaker. My dad's here."

"Are you alright, love? What's going on?"

Maggie took a trembling breath down the phone. "I need you to come pick us up. We've been arrested."