“He wants Nikki at that reunion because he’s terrified of looking like he lied,” she said. “He wants the room to validate the fantasy he built.”
Jackson’s gaze sharpened. “And?”
“And I want him to see what it feels like when the room turns.”
Understanding moved across Jackson’s face slowly, then all at once.
“You want me to go with you.”
“Yes.”
He did not answer immediately.
Carissa rushed to fill the silence. “Not because I need a date. Not because I’m trying to use you to make him jealous. Although I’m not above that anymore, apparently. I want—” She stopped. Restarted. “I want him to stand there with my sister on his arm and look up and see that I am no longer the woman he gets to edit out. And I want the one person he’s spent his whole life measuring himself against standing next to me while it happens.”
Jackson considered that.
“What exactly would you need from me?”
Carissa met his eyes. “Be seen with me. Be kind to me. Hold my hand if it looks natural. Nothing beyond that unless I ask.”
Jackson nodded once. “Okay.”
She blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You don’t need time?”
“I’ve had about thirty-eight years of context,” he said. “That helps.”