Chapter 36

E xhaustion 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.

"I'm pretty sure this has been the longest day of my entire life, and I've missed you like crazy," she admitted, and Liam squeezed her tighter.

"I've missed you too. But you're home now." There was that word again. Home . "Come on. You can tell me all about your day over ravioli, and then I have a surprise for you."

"What kind of surprise?"

"The kind that's only a surprise if you don't know what it is," he said, grabbing her bag from the floor and swatting her on the ass before pulling her to the kitchen.

They ate at the table, and Jazz told Liam all about her conversations with Rose and her parents. Liam listened with rapt attention, his expression morphing from furious on Rose's behalf, to shock at how things had ended with her parents .

"They told me they were proud of me," Jazz said quietly, their plates clear and glasses drained. Liam reached across the table and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on her palm. "I didn't realize how much I needed to hear it until they said it."

"It's about time. I'm happy for you, darling. Does that mean I'm allowed to say it now?" Liam asked, his eyes twinkling. "I'd really love to be allowed to praise my girlfriend every now and then."

"Fine," she relented. "But still no praise in bed."

"I can handle that. And hey, no complaints about me calling you my girlfriend this time? It really has been a day."

"While I'm still not thrilled with how you just decided for us, I am happy to be your girlfriend. Your partner," she said, remembering how nice it had felt when he'd called her his partner at India and Bart's wedding. Liam's entire face lit up.

"Partners. I like that. We're a team. And I promise not to make any more decisions without you. Unless you try to break up with me again in the name of self-sabotage. Or at all, actually. Rule number six: we are never ever breaking up. Like ever."

"Deal. Write it on the board," Jazz said, rolling her eyes and taking the hand he held out for her to shake. "But that goes both ways, baby. If you get sick of my chaos—too bad. You made the rule."

"I could never get sick of your chaos. It's my favorite. You are my favorite," Liam promised, and Jazz weighed up the fastest way of crossing the table and pouncing on him. Crawling over the tabletop was a little extreme, but he'd probably like?—

"Don't look at me like that," Liam warned, pushing back from the table. "We still have your surprise. Go get into something comfy while I get set up."

She grumbled, but did as she was told. This was Liam after all, so whatever he had in store, she was sure she was going to enjoy it. She changed into a pair of cycling shorts and one of Liam's t-shirts—the Cézanne one, which was definitely her favorite of his ridiculously giant collection. At least she'd never struggle to find a Christmas present for him. She balled her work clothes up in the corner of the room.

"Can I come out yet?" she called through the door, stepping back into the living room when Liam confirmed she could.

She stopped just short of the table, her jaw dropping at the spread before her. "What is this?"

"This is me understanding why you have so much crafting stuff," Liam replied, a little sheepishly. "Those little old ladies at the craft store are very persuasive. On a related note, we're scheduled for a screen printing class in a couple of weeks."

"They really do get to you." She nodded in understanding. Liam had hundreds of dollars' worth of stuff on the table—beads in every color, gold and silver charms, at least six trays of alphabet beads, a literal pile of elastic, string, and fastenings. "But why exactly did you go to the craft store and spend a small fortune? "

Liam pulled out a chair for her and she sat down. He rounded the table and sat opposite her, handing her a glass of red wine. "I know you probably have all this at your place—" She had no idea. She'd long since lost control of her stash. "—but I didn't want to disturb Rose while she was settling in, and I just thought… Bracelets." He gestured to the beads. "You said you've never finished a bracelet, so let's change that. I'll make one for you, you make one for me, and we can cross it off your list."

If she didn't already love him, that would've done it. It wasn't about the bracelets, not really. He'd listened to her, he'd heard her, and he hadn't given up on her.

Jazz reached across the table for a spool of clear elastic. "Okay. Let's do this."

I t took them close to two hours. Two hours of cursing, chasing beads as they rolled across the hardwood, and wincing when the elastic snapped in their faces. Multiple. Times.

They had to shut Bray away in the guest room with a bunch of toys and the dancing fruit show he loved to watch on YouTube, just so he'd stop barking and distracting them. Jazz seriously considered giving up after the third time she dropped her bracelet and the beads fell off the string, but she pushed through.

She held the bracelet in her hand and stared at her, pride blooming in her chest. How could something so little mean so much? She'd chosen colors that made her think of Liam—warm and cozy and safe. Deep oranges, emerald green to match his eyes, warm dark browns, and gold. She'd kept it pretty simple, considering how fucking long it had taken to make, since she wanted the text to stand out. And even though it had been a complete nightmare to make, it was perfect.

"Close your eyes and put your hand out. We can look at the same time," Liam said, doing just that. He'd been just as frustrated by the fiddly beads as she had—enough so that Jazz would actually consider doing this again. Riled up Liam was her favorite.

She closed her eyes and held out her palm, and they both sat in silence for a moment before she said, "How are we supposed to swap bracelets if neither of us can see?"

"Shit. I'm coming around."

She hid the bracelet she'd made as he rounded the table and took a seat beside her. This close, it was easy to hand their bracelets over with their eyes closed. And Jazz was just happy to be closer to him. He dropped a bracelet on her waiting palm, and she did the same, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

"On the count of three," he said, counting down.

Jazz took a deep breath. She was doing the right thing. He already knew. The bracelet was just a formality, really. It wasn't a surprise.

"Three."

Jazz opened her eyes and took in the bracelet, tears immediately springing to her eyes. She knew without asking that he'd done the same thing she had, picking the colors that reminded him of her. It was bright—turquoise and bright orange, spring green and sunshine yellow. And like her bracelet, he'd kept the focus on the letters:

I love you .

She traced the white letters with a finger, a perfect match to those she'd used for his bracelet, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Liam cupped her face, catching the tear with his thumb. She looked up, meeting his gaze. For the first time since she'd met him, Liam looked entirely at peace. And for the first time that she could remember, she felt at peace.

"I love you, Liam," she said, because it wasn't enough to string some beads on a bracelet. She had to say it out loud too. "I meant it the first time I said it, and I mean it now. I love you."

He cupped the other side of her face, the bracelet in his hand pressing against her cheek. "I love you so much, darling. So much. And this is so much better— you're so much better—than all the books say."

Jazz sighed happily when he leaned in and caught her mouth with his, tasting the truth of his words on his tongue. It was a slow kiss, a deep, sweet, languid kiss full of promises and peace. When they broke apart, Liam pressed his forehead to hers, his emerald eyes so fucking happy she thought she might burst.

She snagged the bracelet clenched in his hand and slipped it over his wrist, surprised by how much she liked seeing something she'd made on him. Liam did the same with the bracelet he'd made her, running his thumb over the beads and drawing in a shaky breath.

"You know, between this, the t-shirt, and the Snoopy tattoo, I think I might have a thing for seeing me all over you."

"I wouldn't mind seeing you a little more all over me, if you kn—Liam!" Jazz squealed, laughing as Liam stood up so quickly his chair toppled. He tugged her to her feet and pulled her to the bedroom at lightning speed. He pushed her against the dresser, grabbing the hem of her t-shirt—his t-shirt.

"I need you in nothing but that bracelet, darling," he groaned, and Jazz helped him out, wriggling out of her cycling shorts while he pulled the shirt off. She hadn't bothered with underwear—she'd had a pretty good idea of where the night was going when she'd gotten changed. Despite how helpful she'd been to him, Liam was uninterested in returning the favor, running his hands all over her and making it damn near impossible to undress him. She whined his name, and he took pity on her, shedding his clothes and walking her back toward the bed, his teeth and tongue lavishing her neck.

"Liam?"

"Yeah?"

"Now that we're disgustingly in love, you're not going to start being all gentle with me, are you?"

Liam pulled back from her neck, clasping her cheek. " First, I've been disgustingly in love with you for years. You just took your time catching up."

She prodded him in the ribs. That stupid, perfect, dimply smirk would be the death of her. "Shut up."

"Second, are you going to stop being a brat?"

"Fuck no."

His eyes dilated, her favorite wicked glint taking over his face. "Then I guess I'm going to have to keep punishing you. What a damn shame ." On the last word, he spun her around until her back was pressed against his front, then bent her over the bed, pushing her face against the blankets.

She gasped as he brushed the head of his cock over her, pushing her hips back against him. If she didn't get him inside her, she was going to fucking lose it.

" Please ." It slipped out before she could catch it and Liam stilled, gripping her hips so she couldn't move. Fuck .

"Begging already? You must be pretty desperate for me." He sounded damn cocky, but Jazz really was too desperate for him to even pretend to fight.

"Quit talking and fuck me," she groaned and Liam stepped back. She tried to turn around in protest, but he brought his hand down on her ass unexpectedly and her knees buckled, forcing her further into the bed. Her legs spread, her arms lying useless above her head, her pussy practically dripping with desperation… Liam didn't need restraints to have her entirely at his mercy. And he knew that.

He cupped her pussy, putting pressure on her but not directly touching her clit. It was fucking torture. "You done talking back?"

"Yes," she whimpered.

"Then ask nicely, darling." She could hear him fighting a laugh. He was infuriating. And she loved him.

Jazz took a deep breath. "Please will you fuck me, boyfriend whom I love more than anything in the whole wide wor— fuck ." He slammed into her and Jazz blinked away the stars that crossed her vision.

"Since you asked so nicely..."

There was nothing nice about the way he fucked her, and Jazz loved every messy second of it. He was ruthless and unforgiving, spanking her between thrusts until she was sobbing all over the bed, begging for more.

Liam leaned over her, offering her two fingers. "Get them wet for me," was all he said before pushing them into her mouth. Jazz groaned around them, sucking and swirling her tongue. When Liam pulled them out, they were dripping. He barely gave her a second to tense before he circled the rim of her ass and pressed them inside her.

" Fuck , fuck , fuck …"

Liam curled his fingers, moving them in time with his cock, and Jazz fell apart, screaming his name as she came, her pussy and ass clenching tightly around him. Kaleidoscope colors flashed behind her eyelids, shockwaves of pleasure rolling over her body. Liam groaned, pulling his fingers out of her, then his body folded over hers. He reached above her head, clasping her hand and coming inside her with a whispered, "I love you, Jasmine."

"I love you," she murmured back, hoarse and depleted, but so fucking happy.

They cleaned up in the shower, retrieved their sleepy four-legged baby from the guest bedroom, and climbed into bed, clinging to each other.

There was so much to talk about, so much to worry about, to be scared about, but, for once, she was trusting herself. She was trusting him.

The big conversations would come. She would keep exploring the facets of herself that she wanted to work on, she would go to the doctor and figure shit out with her periods so she could have the family she'd always dreamed of, the family they both wanted. She would grow up a little and be okay with it, because she wasn't doing it on her own.

And Liam would be proud of her. Maggie and Cal, and Eliza and Danisha, would be proud of her. Maybe her parents would be proud of her, or maybe they wouldn't, but it didn't matter, not really. Because most importantly, Jazz would be proud of herself.

"I love you," Liam told her with a sleepy smile, his green eyes glassy. Jazz pressed her forehead to his, wondering how in the hell she'd gotten so lucky to be loved by such an incredible man.

But even in love, Jazz was who she was, and she couldn't stop her lips from lifting in a smirk. "Rule number seven: I love you more."

"You can't do that!" Liam protested .

"Rules are rules, baby."

Liam's eyes twinkled with a warning that made her toes curl. "You're going to pay for that, darling."

And she was going to enjoy paying for it—for the rest of their lives, if she got her way.

"Bring it on."