by S. H. Kolee
"So this is just for show?"
I hesitated before answering. "That's how it started, but...Jackson and I decided to try again, to see if we can make it work this time." Trisha's silence told me exactly what she thought of the idea so I hurriedly continued. "I know what you think, Trisha, but I still love him. I...I don't think I can be happy without him."
"Emma, I want you to be happy, but have you forgotten what he did to you? He cheated on you with Claire the entire time you were together! How was he able to justify that?"
"He's apologized and admitted that it was a mistake, but I haven't really asked for an explanation. I can't even think about Claire without wanting to scream."
"So you're just letting him off the hook?" Trisha sounded sad and disappointed. "He doesn't even have to be accountable for his actions? I love you, Emma, and I want you to be happy, but how do you know he'll be faithful this time? Especially now that he has women throwing themselves at him. How can you trust him?"
My heart felt heavy listening to Trisha, knowing that she was right. We could never wipe the slate clean if I never got an explanation as to why Jackson had been unfaithful. It had been a constant question in my head, but I kept pushing it back, not wanting to ruin what we were starting. But I knew eventually I would have to broach the subject to truly give our relationship another chance.
"I'm not letting him off the hook. I believe him when he says he loves me and he's sorry. I'm planning on asking for an explanation, but not just yet. There's so much stuff to deal with right now with the press hounding us." I pressed on the pendant beneath my blouse, trying to calm my anxiety.
Trisha sighed heavily, and I felt the weight of her concern. "Okay, Emma. I guess you have to do what you think is best. Remember, I'm always here for you. Sean too. He practically threw his cane at the TV last night during Jackson's interview, thinking that he was exploiting you."
I ended the call with promises to contact her if I needed to talk. My earlier exuberance was dampened by the reality of Trisha's words as they sunk in. I knew she was right. I would have to ask Jackson for answers, not just blindly wish away his infidelity.
I forced myself to concentrate on work for the remainder of the day, as difficult as it was. I had two client meetings, fortunately at my office, and I could see that they were interested in more than their upcoming advertisements, their eyes curious as they studied me. I pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary, even when one of them slyly asked me if I had seen Crossing Wires, Jackson's latest movie. I just glibly answered that I didn't have much time lately to watch movies and continued with my presentation.
By the time six o'clock rolled around, I was relieved. Despite my earlier anxiety, I was eager to see Jackson. He had texted me that he was outside my building and I hurriedly shut down my computer and packed up my things.
"Bye, Marie," I said as I passed by her desk. "Have a great weekend."
"You too," she replied with a smile that was wider than normal
I was waiting for the elevator when I heard Celeste call out my name behind me. I turned as she rushed towards me, her purse slung over her shoulder.
"I heard that Jackson's downstairs waiting for you," she said breathlessly. "Can I meet him?"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It was amazing how quickly news spread. Someone had probably spotted Jackson outside and now everyone would be whispering about it. Despite my exasperation, I figured it wouldn't hurt to introduce Jackson to Celeste. Maybe it would lessen her curiosity.
"Alright, but don't barrage him with questions, okay?" The elevator doors opened and we both stepped inside. I gave her a meaningful look, not wanting to discuss Jackson in the crowded elevator, and Celeste seemed to get the message, just nodding eagerly.
Craig was waiting outside by the SUV when we stepped out of the building, straightening when he saw our approach.
"That's a Mercedes-Benz G63," Celeste said, sounding awed. "I didn't even think they were available yet." Celeste's husband was a car enthusiast and she picked up a lot of knowledge at the car shows he was always dragging her to.
I shrugged, not knowing much about cars. My heart leapt when the back door opened and Jackson stepped out, grinning at me.
"Forget the car," Celeste muttered as we drew closer. "I see something else I like better."
I rolled my eyes and Jackson gave me a questioning look as he leaned down to hug me, giving me a quick peck on the lips. "Hi, sweetheart, how was work?"
"Good," I answered simply. Jackson didn't let go of me, wrapping his arm around my waist so that our sides were pressed together, facing a gawking Celeste. "Jackson, this is Celeste. We used to work together at Mass Comm and now we both work at Forrester."
Jackson smiled widely, holding out his hand. "Celeste. Good to finally meet you. I used to hear a lot about you when Emma worked at Mass Comm."
Celeste seemed delighted that Jackson remembered her, taking his proffered hand as she grinned. "It's so nice to meet you! I'm a big fan. Little did I know that the Jackson Emma always talked about years ago was the Jackson Reynard."
Jackson winked at Celeste and she positively glowed from his attention. What was it with people and celebrities? I had never understood the allure of worshipping people that were no different from us. Then again, dealing with the demons of Jackson's betrayal had previously left a bad taste in my mouth when it came to celebrities.
"We'll have to go out for drinks sometime," Jackson said as he drew me towards the SUV. "But now I have to steal Emma away. We have dinner reservations. It was good meeting you."
"You too!" Celeste exclaimed, looking positively thunderstruck at Jackson's suggestion of getting together sometime.
"Have a good weekend, Celeste," I said, amused at her cartoonish expression of glee as we climbed into the car. She waved at us as Craig pulled away.
"All the adoration must get tiring," I said with a sardonic smile. "How do you put up with it?"
Jackson smiled back faintly. "It actually does get a little old. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate all my fans. They're the ones that make my movies successful, giving me the freedom to choose which roles I want. But it would be nice to be able to live my personal life anonymously."
Jackson wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I cuddled close, relishing the feel of his hard body against mine. "Maybe we should leave everything behind and move to Bora Bora," I joked. "We can spend our days fishing and our nights listening to the ocean."
Jackson's arm tightened around me as he kissed the top of my head. "Just tell me when you want to go." Jackson's tone was serious and I looked up at him. There was no answering smile on his face at my jest as he gazed back at me unflinchingly. I lowered my head, leaning against Jackson's shoulder again. I didn't know how to reply so I decided it was better not to.
It took a while to get to Romero's because of rush hour traffic, but I enjoyed the ride, feeling cocooned in the safety of the car, the sounds of the city muffled. Craig stared resolutely ahead and I soon forgot he was even there. I was slightly disappointed when the car pulled up in front of the restaurant.
Jackson opened the car door and exited, turning to take my hand and help me out. I was grateful, needing the help since the SUV was high off the ground and I was in heels. Jackson stopped to say a quick word to Craig, and then led me inside the restaurant.
"I guess not everything can stay the same," I commented as I looked around. From the outside, Romero's had looked exactly the same, but they had done a full renovation inside. The dark wood paneling had been replaced with bright white walls with accents of blue. The worn out chairs and tables with red-checked tablecloths had disappeared, and in their place were modern looking white tables with sleek plastic molded seats. Instead of feeling cozy, the restaurant looked sophisticated and chic.
"Let's just hope the food is the same," Jackson said as he guided me to the hostess station with a light hand on the small of my back. The hostess' mouth dropped with recognition as she stared at J
ackson. She glanced at me, her eyes widening even more, and then turned back to Jackson.
"Hi. I have a reservation for Jack Reynolds for six-thirty."
"Of course," the hostess tittered, still looking awed. I wondered why Jackson bothered using a pseudonym when he obviously wasn't trying to disguise himself.
Heads were turning to look at us as the hostess guided us to our table. I was dismayed when I saw her lead us to a table in the center of the restaurant, but I didn't see any others available.
"Enjoy your dinner. Please let me know if you need anything," the hostess said breathily as she handed us our menus. Jackson nodded, not seeming to even notice her come-hither look.
"Why did you use a fake name?" I asked as I opened my menu, happy to see that at least the food looked the same.
"Habit," Jackson said shrugging. "I'm so used to giving out fake names when booking things that it's second nature. I prefer that people not know I'm frequenting their establishments beforehand. It prevents unwanted attention." He smiled slightly at me. "Although tonight I don't mind the world knowing that you're mine."
I smiled back at Jackson, my cheeks flushing. I had been prepared to ask Jackson about Claire tonight, about why he had cheated on me, but I decided to save it for another time. I just wanted to enjoy being with Jackson tonight.
I tried to ignore the glances of the other diners, grateful that at least no one seemed to whipping out their phones to take pictures. Fortunately, our waiter was a consummate professional and didn't bat an eye at Jackson, providing excellent service without fawning over him.
"I'm glad to see you didn't order the squid ink pasta," Jackson said with a grin after the waiter left. "I don't think I can stomach it tonight."
"I learned my lesson." I looked around the restaurant out of the corner of my eye. "Doesn't it bother you that everyone is looking at us? I feel like we're on display at a zoo. I keep expecting someone to throw bananas at us."
"You get used to it. Pretty soon you won't even notice it."
I didn't think that was possible, but I did my best to block it out. I was grateful that at least the tables were far enough apart so that we could have a private conversation.
"Does your publicist have plans for what to do next?"
"I have a few more interviews lined up," Jackson replied, pausing as the waiter set down our glasses of white wine before quickly disappearing. "She thinks it's a good idea if we give an interview together for a print magazine. We can manage what's published in a magazine better than a televised interview."
"I don't know, Jackson," I said nervously. "I've never done anything like that before. What if I say the wrong thing?"
"Don't worry." Jackson reached over and grasped my hand that was resting on the table. "I'll be right there with you, and Marcie will brief you before the actual interview to help you with what to say."
"Did she do that with you?" I asked, wondering how much of Jackson's public declaration had been his own words. I felt a bubble of happiness when he shook his head.
"Marcie knows better than to try and guide me on what to say. She might be helpful for you though, make you feel more prepared. But I have no doubt you'll do fine."
"Let me think about it. I'm not sure if I'm ready to say things on the record yet."
Jackson nodded, accepting my answer. "We have time. Candace's people haven't released a response yet to my interview last night. They're probably scrambling to try and find a way to spin this to their advantage."
I sighed, taking a sip of my wine. "I never thought these things were so deliberate, so planned out. It's so calculated."
"You'd be surprised at how many Hollywood relationships are business arrangements. Celebrity relationships bring a lot of attention, perfect for when you're releasing a new project. Even the breakups are negotiated and planned."
The whole thing was disenchanting but I dismissed it from my thoughts. I had a more pressing topic of conversation.
"Do you mind if I ask you a question about your apartment?" My tone was hesitant, cautious. Jackson grimaced but he nodded stiffly. I continued even though it was an uncomfortable topic. "You already told me why you made it look exactly the way it was while we were dating, but I don't understand why you kept it like that all these years."
Jackson's grasp on my hand tightened as he looked at me grimly. "It would be easy to just claim that I left it like that because I was too busy to change it. But I'm not going to lie to you." He looked slightly embarrassed but continued. "These years apart have been...difficult for me. I had a hard time coping with us not being together, even as time passed. I spent a lot of time in that apartment. Whenever I had time off, I would come to New York and stay there. It made me feel connected to you." His lips twisted bitterly. "That must sound pretty sick."
I shook my head, not wanting him to feel alone in not having been able to get past our failed relationship. "No, I understand. It was a way to cope."
Jackson laughed harshly. "You probably wouldn't think that if you knew what I did in that apartment. How many times I jerked myself off with your skirt, imagining that I was inside you. You saw all those pictures I had of you, how I placed all your things as if you were going to walk through the damn door any minute. Sometimes I would believe it. Sometimes I thought if I waited long enough, you'd appear. When you didn't, I would talk to you like you were there. Even though I was fucking alone." Jackson's eyes were glittering with self-loathing. "Not the healthiest coping mechanism."
I was shocked by how much Jackson had been suffering all these years, but I was also a little disturbed by what he had revealed. It sounded mentally unstable, as if he had created a fictional world where we were still together.
"It sounds a little unbalanced," I admitted. "I understand the pain you were going through, but not facing reality probably just made it worse."
Jackson's grip on my hand tightened almost painfully. "Promise me you'll never leave me again," he said urgently in a low voice. "Promise me, Emma."
"How can I make that kind of promise, Jackson? We don't know what the future holds."
"Emma, I'll never do anything to hurt you again. I swear. Promise that you'll never leave me as long as I don't do anything to hurt you." Jackson sounded desperate and my heart ached for him. I couldn't help but give him what he wanted. I also wanted him to know that even though his confession had unsettled me, he wasn't alone in clinging to the past.
"I promise, Jackson. You're not the only one who's been holding onto the past." I reached underneath my shirt, pulling out the diamond pendant. Jackson stared at it, and then his eyes shot up to mine.
"I was afraid to ask what you had done with the necklace I had given you."
I smiled sadly at Jackson. "It seems like we've both had problems moving on. You were honest with me. I'll be honest with you. I can't count how many nights I lay in bed, clutching this necklace and wishing you were beside me." I lowered my gaze, embarrassed by my next confession but needing to share it with Jackson. "That night when you came over to my apartment for the first time and I got upset when you tried to kiss me...I put on the necklace after you left. I lay in bed and pretended you were with me, that my fingers touching myself belonged to you." I looked back up at Jackson with a grimace. "I did that these past five years more often than I'd like to admit. So you weren't the only one that had an unhealthy coping mechanism."
Jackson eyes darkened as he lifted our joined hands, softly kissing my knuckles as he gazed at me intensely. "Thank you for telling me that." He smiled ruefully, dispelling the somber mood. "It makes me feel a little less crazy."
I was relieved when the waiter arrived with our food. It signaled a shift in the conversation as we moved to lighter topics.
"The ravioli is as good as I remember. Although it might have tasted a little bit better before when I took yours."
Jackson grinned as he twirled some linguine with clams onto his fork. "I'm just glad I'm not stuck eating a plate of squid ink." He paused before puttin
g the forkful of food in his mouth. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Nothing much besides a pressing date with my laundry. Why?"
"I have to go to a party tomorrow night. A friend is opening a lounge downtown and I promised to go to the launch party. I would love for you to come with me."
I hesitated, not sure if I felt up to a swanky party, especially since there was bound to be press there. "Who's the friend?"
"Marc Bradley."
I frowned, now realizing that it would be a media circus. Only Jackson's offhand mention of a friend would be an A-list celebrity. Marc Bradley was a megastar and had recently been nominated for an Oscar for his portrayal as a prisoner of war. I knew most people would jump at the opportunity to go to a celebrity party, but most normal people didn't have men wielding cameras and yelling questions about their personal life at them.
"I'm not sure if I'm up for something so high-profile."
"Please, Emma. I would really appreciate it if you came. I'm not looking forward to this party any more than you are, but I promised Marc I'd make an appearance. It would be so much bearable if you were with me. We don't have to stay long."
"I guess it wouldn't kill me to rub elbows with the rich and famous," I said ruefully. I had a feeling I was going to have to make a lot of concessions in the future if I was going to have a relationship with a celebrity.
Jackson looked relieved when I relented. "So the only question left is whether to stay at your place or mine tonight."
"Don't you think we're overdoing it a bit? It might be a good idea not to spend so much time together, to give each other some breathing room. Besides, aren't you supposed to be trying to win me back in the eyes of the media? Being together all the time takes away the mystery of whether you'll succeed."
