Revulsion swept through me as tears welled in my eyes. What had happened to my beautiful Jackson that was so full of love and light? He had been replaced with a man that had no problem telling me how he had fucked me by proxy.
"That's sick," I whispered. "I don't want to hear anymore." I turned away, trying to pull out of his grasp but he held tight.
"Not so fast," Jackson said in a soft dangerous voice. "It's your turn."
"Do you want to hear that I slept with other men? Fine, I've slept with other men." My voice was trembling, sadness and anger warring with each other. "Do you want to know if I enjoyed it? Yes, I enjoyed it. Did it compare to what I felt with you? No, it's like comparing a flashlight to the sun. Are you satisfied now?"
Jackson closed his eyes, his mouth twisting as he swallowed hard. He looked furious when he opened his eyes. "How many?" he bit out.
"You said you would never hurt me again," I whispered, unable to hold in my tears anymore. "You're hurting me, Jackson. And you're destroying any chance we have."
The anger on Jackson's face was replaced with terror as he clutched me closer, looking desperate. "Emma, I'm not doing this to hurt you. I just-" Jackson stopped and bowed his head, not looking at me. "I don't know what happened to me. I've become fucked up. I've been fucked up since you left me, but now that you're back in my life, I can't seem to stop being fucked up." He raised his head, looking vulnerable and sad. "Help me, sweetheart. You're the only one that can save me from myself."
My heart surged as I cradled Jackson's head in my hands and pulled him towards me, my lips brushing against his cheek. "You're not fucked up. You're Jackson Reynard, Hollywood heartthrob and movie star. Any woman would be lucky to be with you."
"Including you?"
"Especially me," I whispered. My lips moved over to his mouth, showering him with light gentle kisses. "I get to see the man behind the fame. And he's even more amazing than anyone could imagine. I love you, Jackson."
Jackson groaned, crushing me to him as he increased the pressure of our kiss. We fumbled our way into the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. I showed Jackson with my body how much I loved him, telling him without words that no man could compare to him. In return, Jackson made me feel cherished and loved.
Afterwards, in the quiet intimacy after our lovemaking, we promised each other that whatever we had done in the past didn't matter. I fell asleep in Jackson's arms, feeling content and peaceful.
The next morning, Jackson dropped the New York Post on the breakfast table along with the bagels he had run out to get. "Check page six."
I warily opened the newspaper and gulped when I saw that a large picture of us in an embrace on the dance floor dominated the page. The intensity of our expressions was clear as day, my arms wrapped around Jackson's arms as he gazed down at me hungrily. The caption read "Jackson Reynard and Emma Mills looking cozy on the dance floor."
In addition to the picture, there was a short article beneath it and I read it with bated breath.
Jackson Reynard burned up the dance floor with date, Emma Mills, at the launch of Marc Bradley's new lounge, Hydra. With all the press about Reynard's recent split with Candace Stile, we were surprised that he would make such a public appearance. Then again, Reynard has been surprising us all lately, with his candor about his relationship with Mills. Reynard is known for keeping his private life out of the public eye, but long-lost flame Mills seems to be bringing out a new side to him. Partygoers reported that they were inseparable at Hydra and couldn't take their eyes off each other.
"It's so weird to read about myself in the paper." I studied Jackson. "Do you ever get used to it?"
"Honestly, I rarely ever pay attention to it. There's so much garbage out there, most of it manufactured." Jackson looked grim as he continued. "It's different now that you're involved. I felt like pummeling every reporter I could find when I read the stories they wrote about you when news first broke about us."
I smiled, covering Jackson's fist on the table with my hand. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'd prefer it if you kept your fist out of range of reporters' faces. They're not worth it."
Jackson nodded but looked unconvinced. I distracted him by opening the bag of bagels, pulling out an egg bagel which I knew was his favorite. "Do you want yours toasted?"
"No, thanks." Jackson's eyes lit up when I pulled out the tub of cream cheese, looking over at me suggestively. I burst out laughing at his lascivious expression.
"Not today. I'm still sore from last night. We'll have to postpone using the cream cheese indecently."
Jackson looked disappointed, but a corner of his mouth lifted up in a smile. "I'll hold you to that." Jackson grabbed a cinnamon raison bagel that was already cut in half from the bag and started spreading a thin layer of cream cheese on top.
"What do you want to do today?"
I watched as Jackson finished spreading the cream cheese and placed it on a plate that I had brought out from the kitchen earlier, pushing it towards me. Despite all the changes in Jackson, he was still as sweet and considerate as ever, remembering what I liked and always thinking of me first. The core of Jackson was still the same.
I bit into my bagel as Jackson started spreading most of the cream cheese left in the tub on his bagel. I had an idea but I didn't know how receptive Jackson would be to it.
"Why don't we redecorate your place today?"
Jackson stilled, and then slowly lowered his bagel. "What do you mean?"
"Jackson, we're starting fresh. I don't want the ghosts of our past ruining our future. I don't think it's a good idea to keep your apartment like a shrine to what we were like five years ago. We don't need that anymore. We have each other today."
Jackson smiled slowly, his happiness making my soul feel full. "I guess we could do a little redecorating today."
It was just a start, but we spent the day buying small things that changed the feeling of Jackson's apartment. New curtains and a rug made the living room look updated, and a new bedspread in a lighter color make the bedroom brighter. Jackson protested when I wanted to get rid of the pictures of me on the dresser, but we compromised by putting one picture of us on top instead. Jackson had been surprised when I had pulled out the picture of us embracing on top of the Empire State building that I had brought from my apartment. The one that used to sit on my desk at Mass Comm. I hadn't been able to get rid of it, a memory of a perfect day. I had spent hours staring at that picture over the past five years, wondering if we were truly happy in that moment. I had tortured myself, wondering if Jackson had slept with Claire that day, if that had been why he looked so luminescent and happy.