Love Left Behind (30 page)

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.

Despite the incident,
Trisha and I were able to enjoy the rest of our weekend together. I
rediscovered New York with her as we crammed in as many activities as we could
within the short period of time. If we both scanned the crowds everywhere we
went for Jackson's face, we didn't mention it. I doubted I would see him again
since I was certain we frequented very different establishments.

"Call me if you
need anything," Trisha said as she gave me a fierce hug before she left.
We were in front of my apartment building and Trisha was about to get into a
cab to go to the airport. "I can come up anytime."

"I will," I promised,
hugging her back. "Thanks so much for making the trip with me."

Trisha hesitated as the
cabbie threw her suitcase into the trunk and slid back into the driver's seat,
looking over at us impatiently. "Will you be okay here by yourself?"

"I'll be fine,"
I reassured Trisha. "I'm a big girl. I know what you're worried about, but
I sincerely doubt I'll run into Jackson again. Even if I do, I can handle it.
It's all in the past."

Trisha squeezed my hand
and then got into the cab. "Love you. I'll miss you!"

"I love you too.
Give Sean my regards."

I watched the cab drive
away, my brave words ringing falsely in my ears. With Trisha gone, I did feel
alone. But I refused to feel lonely. I had worked hard to rebuild my life and I
was going to look forward to my future. I hadn't come to New York to find the
new Emma Mills like I had when I had first moved up here. I accepted who I was
and was happy with the person I had become.

The next day at
Forrester was busy as I learned the ropes of my new company. Marie, the
assistant I had been assigned, was cheery and efficient and I was grateful to
have someone who had worked at Forrester for over five years. She advised me on
a lot of the workings of Forrester as much as I explained my work style and
what I expected of her.

I spent most of my day
familiarizing myself with my new clients and had Marie set up meetings so that
I could meet them face to face. The biggest surprise of the day was running
into Celeste in the hallway, my old co-worker from Mass Comm.

"Emma!" she
exclaimed, giving me a big hug. "What are you doing here?"

Celeste and I had kept
in contact when I had first left Mass Comm, regularly exchanging emails about
what was happening in our lives. But our communication had slowly tapered off.
I was dealing with Sean and the heartbreak of losing Jackson, and Celeste was
busy with work and grandkids. The last time I had heard from her was years ago.

"Today is my first
day here," I answered, hugging her back. "Don't tell me you work here
too."

Celeste nodded eagerly.
"I can't believe it! It's been ages. I didn't even know you had moved back
to New York."

"I just moved
back. How long have you been working here?"

"For a couple of
years. Drew Stephens, my boss back at Mass Comm, accepted a job here as vice
president of media buying and he brought me along."

"It's so good to
see you again," I said with a genuine smile. "Who knew New York was
such a small world?"

Celeste hadn't changed
much in five years. Her eyes were still sparkling with a youthful glow as she
leaned in closer. "I'll have to fill you in on all the dirt at Forrester.
This place is like Melrose Place with all the drama that happens here. Much
different from Mass Comm."

I laughed at Celeste's
sly smile, having missed her enthusiasm even if it was for gossip. "We'll
definitely have to do lunch soon. My office is just down the hall."

Celeste perked up as
she glanced down the hall. "I assume you're not working here as an
assistant then."

"I'm an account
director, but you know the assistant actually does all the work," I
replied with a grin.

"I knew it. I knew
you would make your way up the corporate ladder. I felt so bad after what
happened at Mass Comm."

"It's okay,
Celeste. It was a long time ago."

Celeste and I parted
with promises of getting together for lunch later this week. I marveled at how
my old life was coming back to haunt me. First Jackson, then Celeste. At least
Celeste was a happy surprise.

I was tired but
satisfied when I left the office, feeling as if I had learned a lot on my first
day. I had bought groceries the day before so I went straight home and heated
up a can of soup for dinner, not having enough energy to muster anything more
than that. I saw that I had missed a call from my mother, probably eager to
hear about my first day at work. Some things never changed.

"Hi, Mom," I
said when she answered on the first ring. "Sorry I didn't get a chance to
call you sooner."

"Emma! I've been
worrying about you all day! How was your first day? Was everyone nice to
you?"

I shook my head but
couldn't help smiling. My mother seemed to think it was my first day at a new
school.

"Yes, everyone was
nice to me. I even ran into an old co-worker from Mass."

"That's good,
dear. Are there any nice men working there?"

I groaned, even though
I was used to my mother constantly bringing up my lack of a dating life. I
hadn't dated much since I broke up with Jackson, having only had a couple of
half-hearted relationships that hadn't lasted more than a few months, and my
mother was convinced I was going to end up alone. She didn't seem to understand
that being thirty years old and single was far from becoming an old maid.

"Mom, I'm there to
work, not pick up eligible men. The last thing I want to do is date someone I
work with."

"Then where will you
meet men?" my mother countered with a sigh. "You don't want to date
the type of men you meet at bars. Why don't you join a church?"

I ended the
conversation with promises that I would make an effort to date. I wasn't
opposed to it and often thought that it was time for a real relationship. The
problem was finding the right man to have a relationship with. I had focused so
much on my career the past few years that it had eclipsed my personal life.

Dinner was spent eating
my bowl of soup in front of the television, my appetite faltering when a
commercial for Jackson's new movie came on. Candace Stile was in the movie as
well and they looked like the perfect couple, both of them tall, beautiful and
larger-than-life. I told myself that they were living a fictional life and I
was happy to have escaped that artificial world.

That didn't stop me
from dreaming about Jackson when I fell asleep. But I didn't dream about
Jackson of the past like I usually did. I dreamt of present day Jackson, his
eyes cold and disdainful as he looked down at me.

Despite my restless
sleep, I woke up early the next morning, eager for another day at Forrester.
The rest of the week went by in a blur as work took up all of my time. It was a
relief not to run into Jackson again and I convinced myself it was a one-time
fluke. I would probably never see him again.