Love Left Behind

by S. H. Kolee

  I didn't answer as I turned towards a commotion at a table across the restaurant. There were a couple of people hovering over the table and the maitre d' seemed to be trying to shoo them away.

  "What's going on over there?" Trisha asked, craning her neck.

  "I don't know, but the maitre d' looks like he's about to blow his top."

  Trisha sucked in her breath sharply as I froze when the maitre d' succeeded in pulling the people away from the table. I was able to get a good look at the occupants of the table and my heart stopped as I saw Jackson sitting there, as plain as day. I blinked my eyes comically, as if I were seeing a mirage and expecting it to disappear.

  "Crap," Trisha said softly, obviously having seen Jackson as well. I whipped my head towards her, but all I saw was Jackson's profile in my mind. His dark brown hair was shorter, but there was no mistaking the straight line of his nose or the soft kissable mouth. I didn't need him to turn towards me to know that his eyes would be piercing green.

  I breathed in deeply, trying to slow my erratically beating heart. I had always imagined what it would be like to see Jackson again. I would greet him with nothing but scorn and he would drop to his knees, telling me he had make the biggest mistake of his life. I would then laugh in his face and leave him with a bleeding heart. Just like he had left mine.

  But I knew I was kidding myself. Jackson was no longer the man I had fallen in love with five years ago, the man who had made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. He was now Jackson Reynard, heartthrob and movie star who dated leggy starlets like Candace Stile.

  "Sometimes it seems like I can never catch a break," I said with a wry smile, not wanting Trisha to know how much seeing Jackson had affected me. "My first day back in New York and I have to see Jackson."

  "Do you want to leave?" Trisha asked in a low voice. "We can try to get out of here before he sees us."

  I shook my head. I wasn't running away from Jackson. I had as much right to be in this restaurant as he did. "No. We're going to enjoy our dinner and forget that we saw him. He didn't see me and I doubt he'd notice anyone outside his rarefied circle of celebrities."

  Despite my brave words, I made a point of not turning in Jackson's direction again because I was fearful that it would draw his attention. It was most likely an irrational fear because he was probably used to ignoring stares, but I didn't want to tempt fate. Trisha made a concerted effort to talk about anything besides Jackson. She chattered endlessly about the food, dissecting each dish and trying to guess the ingredients. I went along with it, pretending to rave about the food. In reality, I didn't taste anything I put in my mouth, the shock of seeing Jackson overtaking everything, even my taste buds.

  We paid our bill with relief and I was grateful that we had gone unnoticed. We made our way quickly out of the dining room and into the lobby of the restaurant.

  "Have a good evening, ladies," the maitre d' said with a smile. We were about to open the door when I felt a hand on my elbow, firmly pulling me back. I turned around slowly, my heartbeat ratcheting so quickly and loudly that I was sure everyone could hear it. Even though I had a good idea of who it was, I was unprepared to see Jackson's face up close. I stared up at him, his piercing green eyes pinning me in place. He was every bit as beautiful as I remembered, and every bit as handsome as his movie posters portrayed him. But he no longer looked like the man who had swept me off my feet. His lips were set in a thin line and his eyes were cold as they gazed at me. The boyish charm had been replaced with a glacial intensity.

  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.

  Chapter Fourteen

  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 ma
n 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.

  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.