We stared at each other for a few moments, neither of us saying a word. His eyes traveled down my face and body, his gaze leisurely as it moved back up. I flushed at his open perusal, wondering if he found me lacking.
"You've cut your hair."
I looked at him nonplussed, his observation the last thing I was expecting to hear from him. I resisted the urge to self-consciously touch my shoulder length hair and steeled myself for whatever was about to happen.
"A lot of things have changed besides my hair."
Jackson's mouth twisted and I was keenly aware of his hand still on my arm. I pulled it free and his hand fell to his side, clenching into a fist.
"What are you doing here?"
"I didn't realize that I had to check in with you the minute I stepped foot in New York." My hackles were raised, his demanding tone grating on me.
"Last I heard you were still in D.C."
My eyes narrowed, as anger replaced my shock. "Heard from who? How would you know anything about my life?"
Jackson shrugged nonchalantly, although his gaze looked far from casual. "Word gets around."
"No, word does not get around. Not when you're a normal person and the details of your life aren't plastered everywhere."
Jackson raised an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming. "So you've been checking up on me?"
I let out a sound of frustration. "What are we doing, Jackson? There's no point to this conversation. Let's just pretend we never saw each other."
"Let's go," I said, turning to Trisha. I was uncomfortably aware of the attention we were drawing, all eyes on us as we traded barbs in plain sight for everybody to see. Trisha had been standing next to us, listening to our exchange with her mouth agape. She snapped her mouth closed when I addressed her, seeming to come to her senses.
She nodded, pausing to glare mutinously at Jackson, and then opened the door to the restaurant and exited. I was following behind her when Jackson grabbed me again, this time much more roughly. He closed the door and leaned a hand against it, effectively blocking Trisha out as he loomed above me.
"What are you doing?" I hissed, bitter anger rising in me. "You're making a goddamned scene! I don't live my life in the public arena like you do!"
"How do you live your life?" Jackson whispered silkily. "Are you happy? Or do you think about me when you're fucking your husband?"
I pushed futilely at his chest, wanting to beat at it and call him a bastard. I didn't know what he was talking about and I didn't care. "Jackson, if you don't let me go I'm really going to make a scene. I doubt you want this splashed across the tabloids tomorrow."
Jackson grabbed the wrist of my left hand that was pushing against his chest, stilling it as he stared down at me. "You didn't answer my question."
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about! I'm not married!"
Jackson glanced down at my hand that he had trapped against his chest. "Ah, I should have noticed the lack of a ring. When did you get divorced?"
"Let me go, Jackson," I said wearily, tired of this game and conversation I didn't understand. I needed to get away from Jackson as quickly as possible. All the indifference I had built up around my heart was shattering with just the touch of him. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've never been married."
Jackson's grip on my hand loosened and I was able to pull it from his grasp. His brows were furrowed and his eyes looked disbelieving as they bored into me. "Didn't you marry Sean?"
I laughed hollowly, the ridiculousness of the situation sinking in. I was well aware of the people behind Jackson snapping pictures with their cell phones. I had a sick feeling that my private life was about to be made public.
"You should check your sources. You seem to be wrong about a lot of things."
"Claire told me-"
"Don't you fucking mention her name to me," I hissed, caustic anger rising in me. "You have some fucking nerve."
Jackson looked at me confused. "Why-"
He was cut off by flashing lights behind me. I turned around and saw a few men with cameras crowded by the door, snapping pictures furiously. Trisha was behind them on the sidewalk looking panicked. I whipped my head back around, letting my hair fall forward to cover my face.
"Shit," Jackson muttered. "There's a back entrance to the restaurant that we can go through. Let's go."
"I'm not going anywhere with you! Just leave me alone, Jackson. Please. Just leave me alone."
I turned and abruptly opened the door, forcing the paparazzi to step back. I covered my face with my hand, trying to hide from the flashing of their cameras, when I felt Trisha grab my hand.
"Get out of our way!" I heard her yell as she guided me from their frenzied snapping of photos. We practically ran down the sidewalk, turning the corner into a quiet street.
"I don't think they're following us," she said breathlessly.
I leaned against the side of a building, feeling shaky now that the adrenaline had left my body. A million emotions were going through me. Disbelief at running into Jackson, confusion about his questions of marriage, anger at the scene he had caused and dismay that his touch still had the power to affect me. But the single most overriding emotion was fear. Fear that he was going to destroy me again, like he had destroyed me five years ago. I had put myself back together once after the devastation of Jackson's betrayal. I didn't think I had the strength to do it again.
"Are you okay?"
I looked up at Trisha who was watching me with concerned eyes. I took a deep breath and straightened, telling myself I had nothing to fear. I would never let myself get caught up with Jackson again. Presuming that he would even be interested in me, which was pretty farfetched. It was ridiculous to think that Jackson Reynard, mega movie star, would want anything to do with plain old Emma Mills. The Jackson Reynard who had pledged his undying love to me was dead. Worse, he had never existed. It had all just been a facade while he had fucked Claire on the side.
"I'm okay," I answered, plastering a smile on my face. "Let's just hope pictures of Jackson Reynard arguing with some unknown woman aren't all over the internet tomorrow."
"Do you want to go home?" Trisha offered. "We can stay in for the rest of the night."
I shook my head, determined to not let this incident ruin the rest of the night. "You're only here for a couple of days and we're not spending it hiding in my apartment. I need a drink now more than ever."
We made an effort to avoid the topic of Jackson, not only for that night, but for the rest of the weekend. Pictures of Jackson and I had indeed appeared on gossip websites but fortunately no one had gotten a close-up of my face, so I was just labeled a mystery woman. I was planning on staying a mystery forever.