Fucking Jackson.
It’s all over. Just like that. I knew this fledglingthingI had going on with Noah was precarious, transient, but I thought I had a couple more days of staying in this fantasy. Two more days away from the real world: away from the relentlessness of the press, and responsibility, and image, and myhusband.
Sure, we’ve just been joking, fantasising, about hooking up at Noah’s flat when we’re back, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same as being here, at Des Anges, in this idyllic, sun-kissed bubble. Hours ago, his delicious weight was bearing down on me in his airy bedroom. Minutes ago, my hand was on his thigh in the car. My fingers clasping his. My head nestled into the crook of his neck.
And now, as we stare in the direction of Jackson’s unmistakable voice, he looks as stricken as I feel. It’s like we’ve both been the butt of this cosmic joke. The gods must be having a laugh that I thought I could pull off a little affair—the kind Jackson makes look so easy—and not have it come back to bite me in the arse. Immediately.
I’m furious Jackson’s shown up. I made it clear to him that this was a break for me and the kids, but he’s overruled me. As usual. And alongside the fury and the desolation—that heavy dropping sensation in my stomach—comes guilt. I got involved with Noah, and by doing so I’ve embroiled him in the particular brand of toxicity that is my and Jackson’s family life.
‘I’m so sorry.’ I whisper it. ‘I’m so sorry, Noah. I had no idea?—’
‘Hey.’ He brushes his fingers down my arm. ‘Of course you didn’t. You have nothing to apologise for. Are you all right?’
I nod.
‘Okay, then.’ He squares his shoulders. ‘Let’s go say hi. This should be interesting.’
Jackson’s in the pool with the kids when we emerge onto the terrace. As soon as he spots us, he vaults out of it one-armed. Of course he does. I’ve lived with this man for years, but it’s too easy to see him through Noah’s eyes, and I’m aware of his quietholy fuckamid Rollo and Serena’s excited yells.
It’s so unfair to put Noah through this. He sleeps with someone, and that woman’s husband, who happens to be one of the most famous action movie stars on the entire planet, shows up to surprise them. It’s brutal.
Jackson walks towards us, all rippling muscles and waxed chest and sky-blue shorts clinging far more than they should, shining the full wattage of his billion-dollar grin on me, and my body betrays me with a flip of my stomach. This reaction to him is far too deeply embedded in my subconscious: the thrill of being Jackson James’ Chosen One (most of the time).
‘Hi, gorgeous.’ He stoops and kisses me on the lips, and it’s a good job he’s soaking, because it gives me an excuse to keep my distance.
‘This is a surprise.’ My tone is light, but anyone with more emotional intelligence than Jackson could surely pick up on itsfroideur.
‘I know, right? My FOMO kicked in. Couldn’t bear the idea of my people being out here without me. This place is heaven.’
It’s amazing how much power he has to withstand said FOMO when he’s fucking his co-star in the middle of a lengthy US-based shooting season.
‘It certainly is,’ I say evenly. ‘Jackson, meet Noah.’
I won’t provide context. The only context that’s relevant is the stuff that Jackson absolutely does not need to know.
‘Mate.’ Jackson pumps his hand. ‘I’ve heard great things about your hospice. Good to put a face to the name.’
To his credit, Noah doesn’t flinch from coming face-to-face with an A-list celebrity he’s currently cuckolding.
‘Good to meet you, Jackson. Glad you could make it out here.’
My lips twitch.
‘Excuse me. I need a swim.’ Noah heads off towards the cabana and, over the next few minutes, as Jackson grabs a lounger and chatters on about his flight, I’m only aware of Noah. Emerging from the cabana in his swim shorts. Executing a perfect dive and shooting down the length of the pool underwater. And when he’s done swimming, he grabs a towel and heads straight for the house without a glance in our direction.
Noah keepsa low profile for the rest of the afternoon, and it makes me seriously antsy. I’d almost prefer the excruciating awkwardness of watching him chat to Jackson. He makes anappearance with a book, which he proceeds to read on a shady day bed at the far end of the pool while Angus and Jackson get stuck into a long backgammon tournament punctuated with endless rosé.
It’s irritating to admit, but Jackson’s arrival has had a boosting effect on the atmosphere at Des Anges. I preferred the low key vibe we had going on before he showed up—I needed a break from Jackson’s high-octane personality—but he’s perked most of the others up.
He and Angus know each other reasonably well already, mainly through me and Evelyn. Elaine is skittishly pleased to see him and welcomes her uninvited guest into her home with characteristic grace. And all the kids are thrilled. Unfortunately, his A-list credentials and his undeniable (and finely honed) charm give most people a major kick, and our friends are not immune. It’s just me and, presumably, Noah who are put out by this unexpected turn of events.
By the time pre-dinner drinks roll around, Noah is showered and changed and on impeccable form. His tan continues to build, and he looks hot as hell in a pale pink polo and white shorts that showcase his dark, perfectly hairy, Mediterranean skin. Noah, the human ice-cream. Yet again. I can’t get enough.
No one on that terrace would suspect for a moment that there is anything between us, or that Noah has any beef with my husband. He’s relaxed and full of smiles as he engages Jackson in an animated conversation around his upcoming show,Vet. It’s based on a series of blockbuster books, all of which Noah’s read, and he appears fascinated by Jackson’s inside scoop on which aspects of the books they’ve stayed true to and which they’ve sacrificed.
I suspect that irrespective of his relationship with me, Noah is secretly pumped to be hanging out with Jackson James. Jackson’s a man’s man as much as he’s a ladies’ man. Anational treasure. Noah’s only human. It’s impossible to be immune to the full power of Jackson’s attention.
Although I’m grateful and relieved Noah’s putting on a good show, I’m antsy. Desperate for a moment with him. I get nothing but a few crumbs all evening.
