"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 putting 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."
"Despite giving the media what they want, I'm not going to let them dictate how we handle our relationship. We've had five years of breathing room. I plan on making up for lost time." Jackson's jaw tightened. "Unless you object to that."
I shook my head, not wanting him to misunderstand. "It's not that I don't want to spend time with you. It's just...our relationship was so intense five years ago. We spent practically every waking moment together. Actually, we spent every moment together, both awake and asleep. Maybe that was unhealthy." And maybe that was one of the reasons why you turned to Claire, I thought. Because you wanted something less intense.
"No," Jackson said implacably. "I'm not taking time apart because of some notion of what's healthy." Jackson raised an eyebrow self-deprecatingly. "As I've told you, I'm not exactly the model for healthy behavior. We'll stay at your place. Less ghosts."
I was exasperated at Jackson's autocratic demeanor again, but I had to admit that I wanted to spend the night together as well. I decided not to push it.
We finished dinner with crème brulee and bread pudding. I hadn't planned on ordering dessert but the waiter had insisted that it was on the house, compliments of the chef. Jackson didn't seem surprised by the offering, and I wondered if one just got used to the special treatment that came along with being famous.
When we exited the restaurant, Craig was in his normal stance by the SUV and I had to admit that it was nice never having to worry about catching a taxi or taking the subway.
"Do you need to stop by your apartment and pick up some clothes?"
"No, it's okay. I have a few things with me already." He nodded his head towards a black overnight bag behind us in the trunk.
"I guess you staying over was a foregone conclusion," I said with a smirk.
Jackson smiled at me seductively, raising his hand to cup the back of my head, kneading my scalp gently with his fingers. I shivered, feeling the sensation all the way down my spine. "I can be very convincing when I want to be."
My gaze shot to Craig in the driver's seat, but he was staring resolutely ahead, pretending not to hear anything. It didn't make me any less self-conscious. I was surprised when Jackson reached over to press a button and a tinted partition rose between the front and back seats. We were effectively closed off from the entire world since the windows on the sides were tinted as well.
"Well, that's convenient. Is there somewhere to put quarters in so that the backseat starts vibrating?"
Jackson's green eyes gleamed as he continued massaging my scalp. "No, but I can do my best to replicate the sensation with my mouth."
I laughed but I couldn't deny the clenching of my lower body in anticipation. "Behave! Even though Craig can't see us, I'm sure it's not soundproof back here. I would be too mortified to ever leave this car if he heard me panting back here."
Jackson's hand drifted down from my scalp to the small of my back, just above the crease of my buttocks. He massaged the area gently, rubbing one long finger between the crease, and I felt my hips involuntarily tilt towards him.