Love Left Behind (51 page)

Craig still followed
behind me in his SUV, trailing behind my cab. The letter was burning a hole in
my purse, but I refused to look at it all day, trying to concentrate on my
work. Now that the press seemed to have lost their interest in me, the calls from
the media had stopped except for an odd inquiry here and there. It was a relief
that they were no longer waiting outside my apartment building, and it was a
small comfort that no one seemed to be interested in my relationship with
Jackson anymore. Oh, there were gleams of interest in people's eyes, but the
rabid fascination was gone.

I was determinedly
working through lunch when Marie buzzed me from her desk.

"Yes, Marie?"

"Drew is here to
see you."

I had made it a habit
to keep my door closed lately, not wanting people to drop by unexpectedly.
Celeste had been relentless in trying to figure out why I was so glum, but she
had eventually gotten the message when I consistently told her I was fine and
refused to take the conversation any further. Drew had made a few attempts at
asking me to lunch, but I had excused myself with the explanation that I had
too much work. Marie had been given strict instructions not to let anyone in my
office without my explicit permission. It was far different from the open door
policy I used to have.

I sighed at Marie's
announcement, not wanting to see Drew but feeling that it was too rude to have
Marie make another excuse for me.

"Send him in,
please."

I watched Drew
cautiously enter my office, his eyes zeroing in on mine as he sat down in the
chair across my desk. He propped an ankle on the opposite leg, studying me
before he spoke.

"You look like
hell."

I couldn't suppress a
small smile at his pronouncement. "Gee, thanks."

Drew didn't return the
smile, looking concerned. "Seriously, Emma. What's going on? Celeste is
beside herself because you won't talk to her. You just lock yourself behind
your office door except for meetings."

I shrugged. "I'm
getting my work done. No one has any reason to complain."

"I'm not
discussing your work ethic. I know your work hasn't been suffering." Craig
frowned. "I'm concerned about you, not your damn work."

"Drew, I
appreciate your concern but I'm fine."

"I don't believe
you. When's the last time you had a decent meal? You look like you're wasting
away."

My appetite had
vanished this past week, and I knew my clothes were starting to hang on me. It
had only taken a heart ripped to shreds to lose those few extra pounds that I
could never seem to get rid of. But combined with my dark circles and hollowed
cheeks, I knew I looked sick instead of svelte.

"Actually, I was
just about to go to lunch. So if you'll excuse me..." I trailed off when
Drew jumped up, proffering his arm.

"Perfect timing. I
was going to ask you to lunch."

"Drew," I
said warningly. I wasn't in the mood for company and I didn't appreciate Drew
trying to manipulate me into lunch.

"Emma, please. Let
me be your friend. You don't have to discuss anything you don't want to. It'll
just give me some peace of mind to watch you eat an actual meal."

I sighed, but I was
touched by Drew's concern. I took his arm, telling myself that it was time to
start living my life instead of being holed up in my office and apartment, not
wanting to face the world.

We went to a cafe
around the corner, and Drew stayed true to his promise about not pushing me to
talk about what was bothering me. I was grateful that he kept the conversation
light, making me laugh with stories about Celeste's latest attempts to
infiltrate his personal life. I was keenly aware of Craig waiting outside the
restaurant. He had followed us when we had left our office building and was
presently leaning against the SUV, watching us through the window of the cafe.
I wondered if he was going to report all the details back to Jackson. The possibility
made me laugh a little louder than necessary at Drew's jokes, pretending that I
was having the time of my life when, in reality, no funny story could erase the
pain I felt. Drew glanced at Craig when he saw my attention straying constantly
towards him, but he didn't comment.

After lunch and a
promise to Drew that we would go out for drinks sometime soon, I spent the rest
of the day engrossed in my work. I had given Drew a false promise, but I made
it just the same, willing to agree to anything to keep him off my back.

My mind kept going to
the letter in my purse, but I forced myself to not rip it open. I wanted to
wait until I was in the privacy of my own apartment to read it, not wanting
anyone to witness me breaking down. I had no idea what the letter said, but I
had a feeling it wasn't going to be good.

When I finally made it
home after work, I kicked off my heels and placed Jackson's letter on the
coffee table, sitting on the couch and staring at it. Minutes passed, although
it seemed much longer as I contemplated the sealed letter, wondering how much
its contents were going to hurt me. When I couldn't take it anymore, I picked
up the envelope and ripped it open. Jackson's bold handwriting jumped out at
me.

Emma,

To say this past week has been painful would be an understatement. I
know that you're upset I contacted Claire, but please don't let it ruin
everything we have. I swear to you that nothing happened between us while you
and I have been together. I haven't spoken to Claire in years, let alone seen
her. I didn't even realize she was in New York until recently. I spoke to Mia
the other day, and she told me that Claire had contacted her and informed her
that she was back in New York.

I know it was wrong to contact Claire, but like I told you, it was
killing me not knowing what she said to you. I wish to God that I had never
contacted her. I didn't meet her on Wednesday. I told her that I never wanted
to see or speak to her again.

Emma, sweetheart, I love you. I would never do anything to hurt you on
purpose. You have to believe me. I've kept my distance this past week, to give
you room to breathe and think. But I'm going crazy being apart. Please meet me
tomorrow night at my place after you're done with work. I have a surprise for
you. I'll be waiting for you. I love you.

Jackson

Tears rolled down my
face onto the letter, making the ink blotchy on the spots where it had dropped.
I so badly wanted to believe Jackson, to believe that he truly loved me and he
was telling the truth. But I had been played the fool once before. Was I going
to give him another chance to deceive me again?

The next day was
torture as I wrestled with whether or not to go to Jackson's apartment after
work. I wondered what his surprise was. When I left the office that evening, I
hesitated when Craig opened the door to the SUV expectantly, waiting for me to
climb in. I was longing to see Jackson, but it was warring with the feeling
that I was willingly opening myself to more pain and heartbreak. My
self-preservation won out, and Craig's face fell when I shook my head and
walked past him to hail a cab. He still followed me home but I was too
exhausted by my inner turmoil to care.

I was settling into
bed, wanting to make it an early night so that I would stop thinking about
Jackson waiting for me in his apartment, when my cell phone rang. I didn't
recognize the number so I just let it ring, noticing that the caller didn't
leave a voicemail. I jumped when my phone rang again, the same number flashing
on my screen. I hesitated, wondering who it could be, but I still didn't answer
it. It could easily be a member of the press, wanting to get a comment from me.
Even though attention from the media had waned in the past week, there was
still lingering interest about my relationship with Jackson. When my phone rang
the third time from the same number, I answered it angrily, annoyed that
whoever was calling me wasn't getting the message.

"Hello?" I
answered shortly. "Who is this?"

"She finally
answers," Jackson said in a silky voice. He sounded deceptively calm but I
could hear the anger vibrating just beneath the surface.

"What do you want,
Jackson?"

"Obviously not the
same thing as you, since I waited for you to show up at my apartment like a
fool."

"So now you know
what it feels like to wait for something that's never going to happen. Like I
waited for your honesty. I see that you thought it was necessary to call me
from a different number to trick me into answering."

"What can I say? I
was able to coerce Harry into letting me use his cell phone. We're going to
speak about this face-to-face. Let me up. I'm downstairs."

"You're crazy if
you think I'm going to let you into my apartment. I have nothing to say to you.
Take Craig with you when you leave. I'm sick of him following me around."

"I can have the
paparazzi here in less than five minutes," Jackson said in a low voice,
sounding dangerous. "I'm sure they'd love to hear about how you cheated on
me with Drew Stephens."

"What are you
talking about!? That's not true!"

"It doesn't have
to be true to make headlines, sweetheart. You should know that by now."

I felt sick by
Jackson's taunting tone, wondering how the man who had loved me so tenderly had
vanished. I reminded myself that he had never existed. I had so desperately
wanted to be loved by Jackson that I had fooled myself into believing that a
sincere, honest Jackson existed.

"What could
possibly be accomplished by dragging this out?" I was tired and didn't
know if I could take seeing Jackson right now.

"I'm handing the
phone over to Harry," Jackson said, ignoring my question. "Tell him
to let me up. I have no problem pushing past him, but he's likely to call the
cops. No doubt, the paparazzi won't be far behind if that happens. We can let
it play it out like that if you want. I'm game."

Each of Jackson's words
battered into me, a weapon that wounded me far more than anything physical. He
sounded so cold and callous. It reminded me that I didn't really know this man.

"Emma? What's
going on? Jackson asked to use my cell phone and went into the corner,
muttering. I didn't realize he was talking to you." Harry sounded confused
but not overly concerned. I was relieved that he hadn't heard Jackson's
threats. I didn't think Harry would leak any information to the press but I
didn't want to take any chances.

"It's nothing,
Harry. Please just let him up." The less I explained the better.

I was a nervous wreck
as I waited for Jackson. I jumped when I heard the knock at the door, opening
it reluctantly. My heart wrenched when I saw Jackson, not only because I had
missed him desperately despite everything that had happened, but because he
looked like hell. His hair was a mess, like he had been shoving his hands
through it repeatedly. His normally golden complexion was sallow and his eyes
were hooded and heavy-set, rimmed with dark circles.

Jackson didn't say
anything when I opened the door, simply raising an eyebrow. Even though he
looked like he had been through the ringer, Jackson could still be intimidating
as hell with that one gesture. I stepped back and allowed him to enter, closing
the door and following him as he stalked into my living room, being careful not
to get too close. I crossed my arms against my chest and waited for him to tell
me why he was here, unwilling to be the first one to speak. I didn't have to
wait long as Jackson closed the distance between us, towering over me.

"Did you read my
letter?"

"I did."

Jackson breathed in
deeply, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "So this is it, Emma? You're
throwing away everything that we have because I made a mistake?"

I thought my anger had
faded into sadness these past few days, but Jackson's words bought my rage
rushing to the forefront. I fought to control it.

"I didn't throw
away everything," I bit out. "You did. I'm just deciding to not let
myself be a pathetic victim again."

Jackson's nostrils
flared and I expected him to defend his actions, but he changed his tactic.
"Has Drew been consoling you?" he asked with a sneer.

"What I do with
Drew or anyone else is none of your business! You have no claim on me."

Jackson's eyes flashed
with anger, his jaw tightening. "That's where you're wrong. You belong to
me and you better damn well tell me what you've been doing with Drew."
Jackson paused, a muscle clenching in his cheek. "Have you slept with him?"

"Not everything is
defined by fucking or not fucking," I answered snidely. "Of course,
you wouldn't understand that since you seem to only understand relationships in
terms of sex."

"Answer me,"
Jackson commanded, his voice low but his expression thunderous. His eyes were
glittering unnaturally and I felt a shiver run down my spine, not recognizing
this man before me. But I wasn't about to cower.

"No. You have no
right to demand anything from me. If this is why you came over tonight, you can
save your breath and leave. And take your spy with you." I was sure Craig
had given Jackson the full report about my lunch with Drew.

I drew in a sharp
breath of shock when Jackson grabbed the edge of my t-shirt and ripped it over
my head. I wasn't wearing a bra and I immediately covered myself with my hands.

"Are you fucking
crazy?!"

Jackson grabbed my
arms, forcing them apart so that I was bared to him. "You don't want to
answer me? Fine. I'll find out for myself by seeing if he's left his mark on
you."

Jackson hooked his hand
over my shorts, pulling them down along with my panties, forcing me to step out
of them. I was completely naked before him, trembling with rage and disgust.

"You're a sick
bastard," I spat out, feeling utterly violated and vulnerable. I flinched
when Jackson slid one hand gently down the side of my hip, looking pained.