'I'm not going anywhere!' I say in outrage. 'I'm having a nice cup of coffee with my parents.'

'Please.' He sits down at an adjoining table. 'I want to explain. I want to apologize.'

'There's no explanation you could possibly give me.' I look fiercely at Mum and Dad. 'Pretend he isn't there. Just carry on.'

There's silence. Mum and Dad are giving each other surreptitious looks, and I can see Mum mouthing something. She stops abruptly as she sees me looking at her, and takes a sip of coffee.

'Let's just … have a conversation!' I say desperately. 'So, Mum.'

'Yes?' she says hopefully.

My mind is blank. I can't think of anything. All I can think is that Jack is sitting four feet away.

'How's the golf?' I say at last.

'It's … er … fine, thanks.' Mum shoots a glance at Jack.

'Don't look at him!' I mutter. 'And … and Dad?' I persevere, loudly. 'How's your golf?'

'It's … also fine,' says Dad stiltedly.

'Where do you play?' asks Jack politely.

'You're not in the conversation!' I cry, turning furiously on my chair.

There's silence.

'Dear me!' says Mum suddenly in a stagy voice. 'Just look at the time! We're due at the … the … sculpture exhibition.'

What?

'Lovely to see you, Emma—'

'You can't go!' I say in panic. But Dad's already opening his wallet and placing a £20 note on the table, while Mum stands up and puts on her white jacket.

'Just listen to him,' she whispers, bending down to give me a kiss.

'Bye, Emma,' says Dad, and squeezes my hand awkwardly. And within the space of about thirty seconds, they're gone.

I cannot believe they have done this to me.

'So,' says Jack, as the door pings shut.

Determinedly I shift my chair round, so I can't see him.

'Emma, please.'

Even more determinedly I shift my chair round again, until I'm staring straight at the wall. That'll show him.

The only thing is, now I can't reach my cappuccino.

'Here.' I look round to see Jack has moved his chair right up next to mine, and is holding out my cup to me.

'Leave me alone!' I say angrily, leaping to my feet. 'We have nothing to talk about. Nothing.'

I grab my bag and stalk out of the coffee shop, into the busy street. A moment later, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

'We could at least discuss what happened …'

'Discuss what?' I wheel round. 'How you used me? How you betrayed me?'

'OK, Emma. I appreciate I embarrassed you. But … is it really such a big deal?'

'Such a big deal?' I cry in disbelief, nearly knocking over a lady with a shopping trolley. 'You came into my life. You fed me this huge amazing romance. You made me fall in lo—' I halt myself abruptly, panting slightly. 'You said you were gripped by me. You made me … care for you … and I believed every single word!' My voice is starting to wobble treacherously. 'I believed it all, Jack. But all the way along, you had an ulterior motive. You were just using me for your stupid research. All the time, you were just … using me.'

Jack stares at me.

'No,' he says. 'No, wait. You have this wrong.' He grabs my arm. 'That's not the way it was. I didn't set out to use you.'

How does he have the nerve to say that?

'Of course you did!' I say, wrenching my arm out of his grasp, jabbing the button at a pedestrian crossing. 'Of course you did! Don't deny it was me you were talking about in that interview. Don't deny you had me in mind.' I feel a fresh spasm of humiliation. 'Every detail was me. Every bloody detail!'

'OK.' Jack is clasping his head. 'OK. Listen. I don't deny I had you in mind. I don't deny you filtered into … But that doesn't mean …' He looks up. 'I have you on my mind most of the time. That's the truth, I have you on my mind.'

The pedestrian crossing starts bleeping, telling us to cross. This is my cue to storm off and him to come running after me — but neither of us moves. I want to storm off, but somehow my body isn't doing it. Somehow my body wants to hear more.

'Emma, when Pete and I started the Panther Corporation, you know how we worked?' Jack's dark eyes are burning into mine. 'You know how we made our decisions?'

I give a minuscule, tell-me-if-you-like shrug.

'Gut instinct. Would we buy this? Would we like this? Would we go for this? That's what we asked each other. Every day, over and over.' He hesitates. 'During the past few weeks, I've been immersed in this new women's line. And all I've found myself asking myself is … would Emma like it? Would Emma drink it? Would Emma buy it?' Jack closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them. 'Yes, you got info my thoughts. Yes, you fed into my work. Emma, my life and my business have always gotten confused. That's the way I've always been. But that doesn't mean my life isn't real.' He hesitates. 'It doesn't mean that what we had … we have … is any less real.'