Love Left Behind (31 page)

I stopped by Celeste's
desk Friday evening after I was done for the day. We hadn't been able to meet
up for lunch during the week since I had been so busy so we had decided to grab
a drink after work tonight.

"Ready?" I
asked as Celeste looked up and smiled at my approach. "Let's go before I'm
sucked back into my office. I'm making myself not work late tonight since I
haven't gotten out of the office before ten most nights this week."

"Let me just run
to the ladies room."

I perched on Celeste's
desk while she hurried to the restroom, smiling when I saw a picture of
Richard, her husband, prominently displayed. Celeste had reverted right back to
complaining about her husband, but I didn't doubt that she still loved him as
much as ever.

"Emma, it's good
to see you."

I looked up at the deep
voice and saw Drew Stephens stepping out of his office. I had only interacted
with him a few times at Mass Comm since he traveled so much, but he had always
been gracious and kind. I had always been in a little awe of him. He was
powerfully built with black hair and grey eyes, his blunt features rough and
masculine. Yet he was still attractive with an energy radiating from him that
was more raw than polished. His expensive suit barely seemed to contain the
powerful man who looked like he would be more at ease with physical labor than
an office setting. However, he was brilliant at what he did and I wasn't
surprised that he was a vice president at Forrester.

"Hi, Drew, it's
good to see you again," I replied, straightening as I took Drew's
outstretched hand in mine. Despite being about forty now, Drew didn't look much
different from when we had both been at Mass Comm.

"Celeste mentioned
that you were working at Forrester now. Let me know if you ever need
anything." Drew's smile was genuine and his hand was warm and firm in
mine. I felt a little jolt when we touched, realizing that I was acutely aware
of him as a man. I laughed to cover up my awkwardness.

"Thanks, Drew. I
have a feeling I'll be taking you up on that offer."

"Anytime."
Drew continued smiling as he gazed at me and I became aware that his hand was
still grasping mine. I pulled away gently, relieved when his hand released
mine. I felt confused, not sure if I was misreading his look of interest.

"Do you need
anything before I leave for the day?" Celeste asked, startling me. I
hadn't heard her walking up behind me.

Drew shook his head.
"No, have a great weekend." He turned back to me, now looking just merely
friendly. "You too, Emma."

He walked past us down
the hall and I watched silently as Celeste grabbed her purse and shut down her
computer. "Let's go."

Celeste and I went to a
lounge around the corner from the office and settled into a table, ordering
drinks. Celeste ordered a fruity cocktail with an umbrella and I settled for my
usual vodka tonic.

"How was your
first week? You got lucky with Marie. She's one of the assistants that actually
knows what she's doing at Forrester."

"It's been really
good," I said, taking a sip of my drink. "Good, but busy. And you're
right, Marie is a gem. I really lucked out with her. At this point, she's
teaching me more than I'm teaching her."

Celeste was easy to
spend time with, making me laugh often and loudly. She regaled me of tales
about her family and I felt the stress of the work week melting away. Even
though she probed into my love life, there wasn't much to tell. She knew that I
had gone through a bad break-up with Jackson five years ago, but luckily, she
had never realized that the man I had been involved with was Jackson Reynard,
movie star. I didn't think she could handle the excitement of it so I never
disclosed it to her.

I was curious about
what my old boss, Janet, was up to and Celeste informed me that she was now a
partner at an advertising agency. I was happy to hear that she was doing well,
holding no ill regard towards her. She didn't have much of a choice when I
ruined her presentation, although to this day I still didn't understood how the
fiasco had happened.

The one drink turned
into several before the night was over. By the time I stepped out of the cab in
front of my building, I was feeling buzzed and happy.

"Hi, Harry,"
I called out as I passed my doorman.

"Good evening, Ms.
Mills," he replied, nodding.

"Emma. Remember,
it's Emma," I said with a wave of my hand.

"Have a good
night, Emma," he rephrased with a smile.

It was a relief to kick
off my heels once I got inside my apartment. I was about to change when I heard
my apartment phone ring, the shrill rhythm of the rings signaling that it was
Harry. I frowned as I answered it, wondering what he could want since I had
just passed him.

"Harry?"

"Emma, you have a
guest. Jack Reynolds."

I froze, knowing full
well that Jack Reynolds must be Jackson. I had no idea how Jackson knew where I
lived and I had no desire to see him, but I didn't know if I had the courage to
turn him away.

"Emma, should I
send him up?"

I scrambled for a
reply, but before I could answer, I heard Jackson's voice.

"I don't want to make
a scene down here, Emma, but I will if I have to. And I don't care who takes
pictures while I do it, so you'd best let me up."

"Emma?" It
was Harry again, and he sounded concerned, clearly having heard Jackson.
"I can send him away. Don't worry if you don't want to let him up. I'll
take care of it."

I released the breath I
had been holding, anxiety making my happy buzz vanish. I felt stone cold sober.
The last thing I wanted was more coverage about Jackson Reynard's mystery
woman, and I wasn't willing to call his bluff about making a scene.

"It's okay, Harry.
He's just an old friend that I got into an argument with. You can let him
up."

I paced my living room
nervously as I waited for Jackson's arrival, trying to steady my pulse as I
told myself that I could handle this. I was glad that I was still in my work
clothes. I felt much less vulnerable than if I had been in a pair of shorts and
t-shirt, my usual outfit when I was at home. I couldn't help but check my
appearance in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed with alcohol and anticipation
and I smoothed my hair, not wanting to examine why I wanted to look my best in
front of Jackson.

I jumped when my
doorbell rang and waited a beat before I walked over to answer it. When I
opened my door, my insides clenched. Even though Jackson was wearing a baseball
cap low on his head with jeans and a worn t-shirt, it wasn't enough to mask his
dazzling good looks.

"Are we going to
just stand here like this all night?"

His sardonic words
jolted me out of my reverie and I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing
here? How do you know where I live?"

Jackson sighed and
folded his arms across his chest. "Do you really want to do this out here
where your neighbors can hear everything?"

I glared at him but
opened the door wider and stepped back, letting him in.

"You have five
minutes," I said as he walked in. "Then you have to leave."

Jackson didn't answer
me as he looked around my apartment. I saw it through his eyes and thought it
was probably laughable to him. For a big star like Jackson, my apartment
probably looked dinky and underwhelming. It fueled my anger and when I saw him
pick up a picture of my father on my bookshelf, I stalked over and snatched it
out of his hands.

"Five
minutes," I said through gritted teeth.

Jackson didn't seem
affected by my demand and simply looked down at me, but I couldn't read his
expression, his eyes shadowed by the bill of his cap.

"Aren't you going
to offer me anything to drink?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Jackson, I don't
know what games you're trying to play. I don't know why you're here, but I
don't have time for this. Either say whatever it is you're here to say or
leave."

"You're
different," he said flatly. "Where's the Emma that was full of life?
You used to get ridiculously happy over the simplest things. Remember when I
won that plastic bracelet for you at Coney Island and you fell all over
yourself, acting like I had just given you the crown jewels?"

I pressed my lips
together, pushing the memory aside. I didn't want to think about the good
times, the moments of pure happiness that had made me believe life was
beautiful. Those memories were now tainted with Jackson's betrayal.

"Are you here to
wax nostalgic? If so, you might as well leave."

Jackson's mouth twisted
in return. "Fine. I just came here to get some facts straight. Did you
marry Sean?"

I sighed in
frustration. "I already told you I've never been married. To Sean or
anybody else. Not that it matters."

Jackson took his cap
off and shoved his hand through his hair, looking confused. Now that I had an
unadulterated view of his face, I tensed even more. I was warring against a
tide of sadness and regret, reminding myself that our relationship had been a
sham.

"I don't
understand," Jackson said, shaking his head. "I thought you and Sean
got married."

"Now you know that
we didn't," I said, speaking slowly as if I were talking to someone who
was slow to understand. "Is that all?"

Jackson grimaced, his
green eyes piercing into me. "If I had known..."

"If you had known,
then what?" I countered when he faltered. "I told you that we didn't
belong together." I didn't bring up the fact that I had called a week
later to beg for Jackson's forgiveness and for him to take me back. My pride
wouldn't let me revisit that moment, even though I knew Jackson was well aware
of it. The moment where I realized that Jackson had betrayed me.

Jackson breathed in
deeply, watching me uncertainly. "I guess nothing. If you really thought
we didn't belong together, I guess I didn't have a chance. I just - when I
heard that you were married, it made everything final. Claire thought-"

"Didn't I tell you
not to mention her name?" I spat out. "I don't want to talk about
her. In fact, I don't want to talk to you at all. Get out!"

Jackson grabbed my arms
roughly, pulling me towards him and making my head fall back as he shook me.
"Why do you get so upset when I mention her name?" he demanded.

I laughed humorlessly,
feeling as if my heart were breaking again. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to
feel kindly towards the bitch you slept with?"

Jackson froze, his
expression guilty, and I realized he still had the power to hurt me. Even
though I knew he had cheated on me with Claire, the confirmation on his face
killed me. I knew that I could never forgive him. It was more than his sleeping
with Claire. It was because he had made me believe in a dizzying love that had
been false. He had made me believe in soul mates and happily ever after, only
to snatch that happiness away.

"How do you
know?" he whispered, his voice sounding strained. "How did you find
out?"

I pulled out of his
grasp and sneered at him, trying to mask the wound that had been ripped open
anew. "How do you think? Or is it not important enough for you to
remember? She told me herself."

Jackson steeled his
expression, the panic in his eyes vanishing behind a mask of coldness.
"You can't really blame me, can you? You were the one to reject me."

A haze of fury rose in
me and I felt myself start to shake. All the pain and anguish I had buried for
years erupted, fueled by his indifferent attitude.

"You
bastard," I yelled, striking him with my fists. "I trusted you! I
gave you fucking everything and you threw it away! Were you laughing at me?
Were the two of you laughing at me behind my back while you fucked each
other?!"

I didn't care that I
was openly sobbing as I frantically beat against his chest. All reason left me
and I was just left with raw emotion. I felt like a wild animal that had been
hurt and was expending my last bit of strength to retaliate.

"Stop it!"
Jackson grabbed my wrists in a vise-like grip, stopping my assault on him. His
expression was like ice, at odds with the pain I saw in his eyes. I was heaving
with emotion, trapped by his grasp as sanity came back. I was disgusted that I
had let myself be so affected by him.

"Let me go,"
I said in a low voice, unable to break free from his iron grip. Jackson
tentatively let go of my wrists and instead of continuing my assault, I stepped
back, needing to get some space between us.

"Why are you here,
Jackson?" I continued in an emotionless voice. "What possible reason
could you have to be here? What's the point of revisiting the past?"

"It's because I
need to know the truth," Jackson replied, his face hard. "Don't I
deserve it?"

I laughed mirthlessly.
"Do you? All that matters is the truth now. And the truth now is that I
never want to see you again."

Jackson stepped towards
me, his face flashing with anger. "Just answer my questions and I'll be
gone from your life forever. I have my own life to get back to. I just want to
put this to rest."

I scrubbed my face with
my hands, feeling exhausted from the intense emotions that had gone through me.
I just felt resigned now, so I nodded my head. "Fine. Anything to make you
leave."

Jackson's eyes flared
at my statement but he spoke in an even voice. "Were you telling me the
truth when you told me that you wanted to be with Sean?"

The importance of this
question confused me. I didn't understand why it mattered, especially since he
had been screwing Claire the entire time we had been together. And the fact
that I had called a week later to beg him to take me back should have been
indication enough. I paused, not sure how to answer his question.