Chapter 5

I f ever there was an argument against expensive prep schools, it was the man standing beside her. Sure, Liam was a well adjusted, well educated, person with a soul, but it seemed like every single person he'd gone to school with was fucking insufferable. Jazz knew he was insecure about the fact that he'd lost all of his friends in the breakup, but if these were the friends he'd lost? Good riddance.

Liam navigated them all like a pro, the anxious, heart-broken man she'd been expecting nowhere to be seen. It was… troublingly attractive to watch him surprise his ex-friends, who'd clearly been expecting the same. He was charming and friendly, cool as a damn cucumber, and Jazz liked it. A lot. Somehow, she had to make it through the rest of the night without throwing herself at him. She could do that. It was no big deal.

She smiled politely at yet another man named Chuck who worked for his dad's company and drove a fancy ass car (which, it seemed, everyone here did). She turned to Liam with an expression that she hoped portrayed help me , and his lips quirked up, his arm around her waist tightening.

"If you don't mind, Jazz and I love this song. Shall we dance, darling?"

Darling . Why the fuck was that so hot?

It wasn't real, but that didn't stop her from wanting to rip his tux off and tackle him in the middle of the dance floor. She just had to make it through the night…

Liam spun her around and pulled her in close to him, holding her tightly and ignoring the nosy eyes of the other dancers. "What are you thinking about?" He brushed a cool finger over her burning cheek, the glint in his eyes making it clear he knew exactly what she was thinking about.

Jazz took a deep breath, willing her heart to stop racing. But Liam's fingers trailing over her bare back made it impossible. Why had she chosen a backless dress again?

"I'm thinking," she began, pretending she couldn't hear how badly she wanted him in her low, breathy voice, "that you're doing amazing. Seriously. You wanted to show them you're thriving? Consider it done. You're actually thriving here, Liam."

His smile softened into something almost shy. "Thanks. I realized, when India was walking down the aisle, that I don't miss any of this. I thought I did, but… I guess distance has made me see it all more clearly for what it is."

"Awful?" Jazz suggested, and he laughed, spinning and dipping her like he'd been dancing since he could walk. They probably taught shit like this at the school he'd gone to.

"Exactly. I still couldn't have done it without you, though. Thank you, Jasmine. I mean it."

Her skin warmed under his smile, her stomach doing something akin to somersaults. It was the dimples. No wonder Maggie hadn't been able to resist Cal.

"It's no problem. Happy to be here. With you." Those last two words weren't supposed to slip out. Shit. Jazz cleared her throat. "Actually, I've been wanting to ask you something."

Liam swerved them out of the way just in time to stop her from colliding with a couple who glared like it was Jazz's fault they couldn't dance in a straight line. "Shoot."

"You call me Jasmine when you're talking to me, but when you're talking to anyone else or introducing me, it's Jazz. Why do you change it?"

Liam's cheeks turned rosy—and Jazz didn't think that had anything to do with the one glass of champagne he'd allowed himself. She'd followed suit, not wanting to drunkenly accost his ex, however tempted she was.

Liam spun her in time with the music, her dress twirling around her legs. She was so focused on him, she could hardly hear the music. "I like that it's just our thing. Just for me and you," he said finally. Oh .

Jazz swallowed, her fingers itching to sink under the soft fabric of his jacket .

"I like that too," she said as the music drew to a close. Applause sounded for the band before they began their next song, but Jazz and Liam stood still, green eyes and hazel glued together. Jazz stepped away, looking down. "I have to run to the restroom. Back in a sec."

She pulled herself out of his grip and turned on her heel, dodging dancers as she rushed across the dance floor toward the gilded hallway. Rainbow light streamed through the stained glass windows flanking the giant entrance, but Jazz turned right, scurrying down a smaller hallway and holding her breath until she was tucked safely behind the restroom door.

The restrooms were as luxurious as the rest of the place—the private room had marble flooring, gold hardware, and a giant mirror on the wall above the sink, with a mother-of-pearl frame. A vase of yet more white roses sat on the vanity, perfuming the room with a sickly sweet floral scent that made Jazz suspect they'd been sprayed with something.

She didn't even have to pee, she just needed a little breathing room. Her breath rushed from her in a sigh. "When in Rome," she grumbled, pulling up her dress and pushing down her underwear before sitting on the toilet.

Jazz let her head fall in her hands, trying not to smudge her makeup. What was wrong with her? Perhaps one glass of Champagne had been too many. Or maybe it was just the tux. Or the dimples. Or Liam's dancing skills. Or that godforsaken fucking mustache.

Whatever it was, she just had to wait it out. In a few hours, they'd be in their PJs, lying several feet apart in the massive hotel bed, and she wouldn't be so tempted to stick her tongue down his throat. Liam would be reading on his Kindle, and his cheeks would turn red when she asked him what he was reading, just to fuck with him because she already knew it was a steamy romance. She would open TikTok and pretend she was just going to scroll for five minutes, then an hour would pass and they'd go to sleep and wake up fully dressed. They would tuck their drunken hookup at Maggie and Cal's wedding away as ancient history, and Jazz would move on with her life, making do with another decade of orgasmless sex.

She finished up in the restroom, washed and dried her hands, wrinkling her nose at the cloying rose-scented soap, and headed back into the reception room with a newfound resolve. Determination fueling her steps, she didn't see the server carrying a tray of canapés until someone grabbed her arm and tugged her to the side.

"Thank—" She looked up at her savior, the words dying in her mouth as she found herself face to face with the bride and groom. She swallowed down the anger that fought to rise in her throat. "Thank you."

"No problem. They just seem to appear out of nowhere, don't they?" India said with a practiced smile.

On principle alone, Jazz hated her, but she couldn't help but admit that Liam had good taste. India was gorgeous. Her long blonde hair fell to her waist in perfect finger waves, though Jazz was sure most of it was extensions. Her makeup was natural but flawless, and her ballgown fit her like a glove. Even her soft, high-pitched voice gave princess vibes. She'd never seen a picture of Liam and India together, but she could imagine how perfect they must have looked.

And Bart was… there.

She cleared her throat. "Congratulations. It was a beautiful ceremony, and you look incredible."

India's smile widened. "Thank you. You're Jazz, right? Liam's… girlfriend?" Her facade slipped, her lips curling slightly around the word. And just like that, any insecurities Jazz had around this gorgeous woman were gone. India had hurt Liam, they both had. How dare they invite him here to rub it in his face?

"I'm Liam's partner, yeah," she said, forcing a cheery smile onto her face. Partner felt more serious than girlfriend .

"We've been hearing a lot about you tonight," Bart said, his face more stoney than his bride's.

"I've heard a lot about you guys, too." Satisfaction coiled in her belly at the minor flare of panic in Bart's eyes. Did they think she was going to bring up how they'd broken his heart? Hell, wasn't that why they'd invited him in the first place? There was no reason for them to have done so, other than to tell themselves he was miserable, lonely, and missing them. It was an ego trip, pure and simple, and Jazz hated them.

"Liam talks about you both all the time," she continued. "It sounds like the three of you had a blast growing up!" Let them think Liam only talked about the good times. Let them think they hadn't crushed him. "Actually, he was just telling me the other day about that summer resort trip you all took when you were seventeen? The one where you all played spin the bottle and crashed your dad's boat? The pictures were hilarious."

Liam hadn't told her a single thing about that trip, but Jazz was nosy and had found the pictures when looking through old photo albums at Eliza and Danisha's place, trying to find pictures of young-Cal for his and Maggie's wedding. Danisha had told her all about that summer—how Liam had begged to go with Bart's family, and how he'd been glowing when he'd come home, because he'd had a crush on India forever and finally gotten to kiss her during spin the bottle.

India and Bart, it seemed, remembered too. Their cheeks flamed, and they shifted awkwardly.

A warm hand settled on Jazz's lower back. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared to. I thought I was going to have to send out a search party."

Oh God . She'd hoped to get Liam out of here without him having to talk to India and Bart. Well, if she couldn't do that, she would at least play the part of the doting girlfriend perfectly. She looped her arm around his waist and snuggled into him, looking up at him with a mock-affronted expression.

"My sense of direction isn't that bad."

Liam's answering, slightly exasperated smile was a work of art. Where had he picked up these acting skills? And why was it such a turn on?

"Of course not, darling ," he said, layering so much affection on the word that even Jazz almost believed it. He turned his attention to India and Bart, not a trace of anxiety or heartbreak on his face. "Congratulations, you two. What a beautiful wedding."

"Thank you," Bart replied, somewhat stiffly.

"We were just talking about that summer trip you told me about, baby. In the Maldives?"

Liam's eyes flared when she called him baby , emerald green disappearing as his pupils swallowed it. Interesting.

"Oh yeah, when we crashed your dad's boat, Bart. That was a fun trip."

If Jazz hadn't been watching for India's reaction, she would have missed her minute flinch, as if she couldn't quite bear that Liam's first thought was of the boat, and not their kiss. Or what had happened after the kiss. She missed him. After everything she'd done to him, she missed him. Jazz couldn't say she was surprised; she might not know the ins and outs of India's relationship with her new husband, but she knew there was no chance Bart loved her better than Liam had.

"It feels like a million years ago now," India said, her voice less steady than before. "So how have you been? How are your parents?"

"We're great," Liam said, twirling the ends of Jazz's hair. "My moms have taken up fencing, which is going about as well as you can imagine, and my dad got married." Jazz wondered if India and Bart noticed how he neglected to mention what he was doing, but they didn't seem to.

"I heard your dad got married. His assistant, right? What a cliché. God, you must be pissed about your inheritance, huh?" Bart said with a chuckle that made Jazz's blood boil. Maggie had learned to laugh and let the gold digger comments roll off her back. Jazz… not so much. She was banned from two bars because she'd gotten into arguments about it.

Liam's grip on her hip tightened, the only sign that he, too, was pissed at Bart. "Maggie's amazing, actually. I can't imagine anyone better for my dad."

Bart snorted, but India nudged him. "That's great. We're happy for him," she said, attempting to smooth over her husband's misstep. "We really should head back before my mom thinks we've run away before the exit pictures. But we should catch up when we're back from our honeymoon."

"Absolutely. It was good to see you both." This time, Jazz knew they all knew he was lying.

He didn't let go of her as India and Bart walked away, didn't watch them go. But Jazz did, catching every one of India's split second glances back.

"She's watching," she murmured, turning back to Liam. She brushed his chin with her thumb. "You should kiss me."

Liam's tongue darted out, wetting his lower lip. He cupped her face, his touch like silk against her cheek, lowering his lips to hers.

"Just to be clear, Jasmine," he murmured against her lips. "This isn't for them."

She didn't have time to let his words sink in before he caught her mouth in a kiss. Her hands drifted into his hair, gripping him tighter than she had a right to. Liam didn't seem to mind, leaning his body into hers, his hand roaming over her hip to her back, then down until it was resting on her ass. She gasped, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue between her lips, tangling with hers, moving as smoothly as he had on the dance floor.

"Disgusting."

They broke apart, turning to find an older woman glaring at them, squeezing her glass of rosé so tightly, Jazz was surprised it was still intact. The woman scowled as she spun around, stomping away from them.

Slowly, Jazz and Liam turned back to each other, eyes wide. That kiss… Fuck. She couldn't convince herself that that was no big deal.

"Maybe she didn't like the stache," she said, nodding to the angry woman in an attempt to diffuse the taut tension growing thicker between them.

Liam released his hold on her face, chuckling. "Impossible. Everyone likes the stache," he said, dropping his hand and twining their fingers together. She screwed up her face and a cocky smile fell over this mouth. " You like the stache."

"I don't hate the stache," she acquiesced, trying not to remember how soft it had felt when he'd been trailing kisses all over her body. Trying and failing; pictures flashed through her mind like a film reel, clear as day, despite how much liquor she'd had to drink before they'd climbed into bed together. "It's a weird choice though," she added quickly. "I don't understand why you don't just grow a beard too. You'd suit it."

He squeezed her hand. "Come on, I've had enough of this. Let's head upstairs. My Kindle and your mindless TikTok scrolling are calling our names. I'll tell you the stache story on the way."