At first, Jackson stares at me, and I can see the thoughts running through his head. The first thought is that he's gone insane, that he's hallucinating, that somehow, the stress and maybe a bit of dehydration have pushed him over the edge for a little while. Next, he thinks that this is some sort of trick, maybe someone in an elaborate makeup job.

But then the truth comes through, and a complex brew of emotions boils inside him. “K... Katrina?” he stutters, and I nod, unzipping my cloak and pulling it off my shoulders. “But how?”

“After our fight, I had to be sure,” I say, staying right where I am. It feels appropriate to be on my knees, penitent before him. “I had to make sure that I could complete my mission without you warning or trying to save your dad. Nathan helped me fake the shooting, and Andrea faked the text message from Peter.”

Jackson sits back, hurt and angry, and I understand. “You didn't trust me enough to do it?”

“When Nathan and Andrea approached me, no. I loved you, but I knew that you hadn't grown enough at that point. I had to make sure that I could take down Peter. If I didn't, he'd haunt us for the rest of our lives. Hell, I’d be haunted by dedicating so much of my life to it and not succeeding.”

Jackson gets up, trying to control his emotions, and walks around the table, pacing back and forth in front of the window, wringing his hands. “You let Nathan and Andrea know—you obviously had their help in all of this—and you couldn't tell me? Was I just some pawn in your little game? Some puppet to be controlled, like the way Peter controlled other people?”

I lower my head, his words stinging, piercing to my very heart. “Jackson... I'm sorry. To get a monster, I became a monster, and nothing was more monstrous than what I did to you. If it means anything, after Darcy and Andrea talked with me, I did put it all in your hands. That was no lie. You had full control of when to take down Peter. The only thing I did was edit the information released to make sure that it was as tightly focused on Peter as I could make it, to limit the collateral damage.”

Jackson stops and turns, looking at me carefully. “Why?”

“Because the first thing I thought of after Andrea woke me up was the look I saw on your face when the fake drive-by happened. Because I realized I'd made a mistake and rushed too quickly. I was too concerned about trying to get it done fast so that you and I could move on, and not doing it the right way. But it was too late. I couldn't take it back. I had to sit here, waiting for the whole thing to come to a head. I put you through hell, and all I could do was sit here and hope that you’d follow Nathan's paper. All I could do was hope that... that you're better than me.”

I look down, resting my hands in my lap, ashamed to even look at Jackson any longer. What the hell was I thinking, setting up this elaborate scheme, and all to do what? Test his mental strength? What the hell is wrong with me? What was the purpose of this? I love him, and he loves me. Isn't that supposed to be more important than anything else?

I'm still looking down when I see Jackson's shadow fall over me, and I don't move, closing my eyes instead. I deserve to have him walk out on me and never come back. Instead, I hear Jackson shift around, and I open my eyes to see him kneeling down in front of me and take my hands in his. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he says softly, squeezing my fingers. “You had every logical reason to doubt me, and it was only after the past weeks of living in your loft, living the way you have for ten years, that I really understood in my gut what you've put yourself through. You opened your heart to me, wanting me to show you that there's a future between us, and I took the most precious gift you could have given me, and I was worried about money, of all things. Can you forgive me?”

I nod, looking up into his eyes. “I love you, Jackson.”

Jackson lifts my chin with his fingers and we kiss, his lips a cool balm on the searing pain that's been eating away at my heart since Miami. He cups my cheek, and I wrap my arms around his waist, tears still flowing, but these tears are of happiness and relief, not of sadness.

“I love you, Katrina,” Jackson whispers in my ear. “I want to be with you forever.”

I nod and hug him. “I want that, too.”

He hums and pulls me close. “Then let's get out of here. I have only two things on my mind right now.”

“What's that?” I ask, laying my head on his chest, listening to the heartbeat that I've missed and the heartbeat that I want to build my future around.

“One... I want to get some food. I haven't eaten today, and I'm going to need energy for later.”

“Why?” I ask, giving him a smile, knowing exactly what he wants. It's what I want, and it's the right thing to do.

Jackson notices me smile and returns his own. “I think you know exactly why. Let's just keep it cheap, okay? Like I said, I've only got sixty bucks.”

“No you don't,” I inform him, getting to my feet and helping him up. “Andrea gave you a going away present. Besides the stones.”

“Oh?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“A numbered account in the Bahamas. I checked it this afternoon... you've got three hundred and fifteen thousand dollars.”

Jackson considers it, then nods. “Okay then. I guess we can get extra cheese on the pizza.”