“Oh, come on,” Jackson says, keeping his spot on the window seat and spreading out his hands, the seriousness of his gesture ruined a bit by the fact that he’s holding a raspberry pastry. “Do any of you honestly think that my presence at the Grant family home is going to help anything today?”
“It’s going to help Ariel,” Jesse says, eyebrows raised, pointing at me. My own eyebrows go up because…I mean, is it?
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