Love Left Behind (29 page)

"It does bring up
some bad memories," I admitted to Trisha. "But I have to remind
myself that it was a long time ago. I'm a different person now. I'm not as
naive as I once used to be."

"You weren't
naive," Trisha said, shaking her head. "You were in love. It's not
your fault Jackson cheated on you and abandoned you."

"Technically, he
didn't abandon me. I abandoned him."

"Don't defend
him," Trisha replied vehemently. "You may have broken up with him,
but you were doing it for his own good. It only took you a week to realize your
mistake, but lover boy was already shacking up with the whore that he had
cheated on you with."

Trisha had been there
for me during my darkest days. She heard the details of everything that had
transpired between Jackson and me as I poured out my heart to her. To say that
she had an unfavorable impression of Jackson was an understatement. It
infuriated her even more that he had become rich and famous. She proclaimed
that she would never watch a movie with that "sonofabitch" in it.

"I'm not defending
him. And I'm certainly not excusing his cheating. But I know what role I played
in the demise of our relationship. I thank my lucky stars that I did break up
with him though. Otherwise, I may have never found out about him and
Claire."

Our conversation was
interrupted by the waiter bringing over our food.

"Let's not waste
anymore time talking about Jackson. This is a weekend for us to have fun. I
only have you for two days and I don't want to spend it moping about the
past."

Trisha agreed on
dropping the subject of Jackson and we spent the rest of lunch planning our
weekend. Trisha was leaving Sunday morning so we only had the rest of today and
all of Saturday to cram in as many activities as we could.

After lunch, we went
shopping. Trisha was intent on spending as much money as possible before she
left. I trailed behind her as we went into store after store, waiting patiently
as she tried on a million pairs of shoes.

"What do you
think?" she asked, modeling a pair of snakeskin five-inch heels.

"I think you're
going to kill yourself trying to walk in those," I replied, plopping into
a chair. I had a feeling we would be here for a while.

"Yeah, but what a
way to go."

Trisha flagged down the
harried salesman, asking for another pair of shoes to try on. A couple of women
sat next to me, engrossed in their conversation as they slipped on pairs of
shoes. I couldn't help but overhear them.

"He's in town for
the premiere of his new movie. I say we find out what hotel he's staying at and
camp out."

The woman's companion
frowned as she stood up and admired the shoes she had slipped on in the mirror.
"I think we're a little old to be stalking celebrities."

"Yeah, but it's
Jackson Reynard! He's so hot, I wouldn't mind making a fool out of myself over
him."

"I heard he's
dating Candace Stile. No offense, but I don't think a mere mortal is going to
be able to steal him from her. Besides, I read that they've been dating for a
while but have kept it secret. Apparently, they're in love."

"It's not like I
think I actually have a chance," the woman said with a scowl. "But
what's wrong with dreaming a little?"

The two women moved to
another section of the store, not knowing that they had shocked me into
stillness. The last thing I expected was for Jackson to be in town. I figured
that he spent most of his time in L.A., not taking into consideration that he
would be in New York to promote his new movie. I couldn't help but see
commercials for it since they were constantly running. I was sure it was
destined to be another blockbuster, but it was another one of his films I would
never see.

"What about
these?" Trisha asked, now wearing red knee-high boots.

"Why are you
trying on boots in the middle of summer?" I asked, pushing the thoughts of
Jackson from my mind. I had gotten plenty of practice these past five years of
not thinking about him, although I had to admit I wasn't always successful.

"Because these are
on clearance! I can save them until winter."

I studied the heels of
her boots with a skeptical look. "I don't think those boots are made for
trudging in the snow."

Trisha shook her head
sadly, obviously letting me know that I was missing the point. She ended up
buying the boots, as well as two other pairs of shoes.

"Why don't we go
back to the apartment?" I suggested. "I feel like a pack mule with
all your packages. We can drop off your bags and rest up until dinner."

We were treating
ourselves to a nice dinner at Eleven Madison Park but I needed to rest
beforehand. Otherwise, I would be falling asleep on my plate.

I ripped the plastic
off my furniture when we got back to my place and tried to arrange it in some
sort of semblance of order. I opened a bottle of wine and Trisha and I relaxed
on the couch, idly talking about nothing in general.

"Are you excited
to start your new job?" Trisha asked, twirling her wine glass.

"I'm excited but
I'm nervous too. This is a big step for me." I was starting as an account
director at Forrester, a large ad agency with offices around the country. I
would be handling accounts worth tens of millions of dollars and although I
felt qualified for the job, I couldn't help feeling like a fish out of water.
The agency I had left in D.C. had been considerably smaller.

"I have no doubt
that you're going to be amazing," Trisha said with confidence. "I'll
just have to make frequent trips up here to boost your ego."

"I'd welcome
that," I replied with a laugh. "Although I don't know how happy Sean
would be about that."

Trisha waved her hand
airily. "He has plenty of things to occupy himself with, namely remodeling
the bathroom."

Trisha and Sean had
recently bought a "fixer-upper" and were determined to do as much
work themselves as possible, although Trisha tended to take on a supervisory
role instead of getting her hands dirty. As flippant as she was about leaving
Sean to his own devices, I knew that in reality, she didn't like spending too
much time apart. They were one of those sickening sweet couples that were
joined at the hip. I was surprised that she had even suggested coming along to
New York, but I knew the real reason was because she was worried about the
memories my return would trigger. I was grateful to have her as a friend.

Trisha checked her
watch and then jumped up, finishing the last of her wine with a gulp. "I
need to start getting ready if we're going to make our eight o'clock
reservation."

"Trisha, it's six
o'clock. You have plenty of time."

"It takes a lot of
time to make this beautiful," she said with a sweep with her hand over her
body. I shook my head in exasperation. Trisha had been a little overweight
during high school but she had shed the extra weight during college. However,
her insecurity hadn't left her, no matter how many times she was told that she was
beautiful. With her blonde hair in a pixie haircut and startling blue eyes, she
was the consummate girl-next-door.

I watched amused as
Trisha rushed around getting ready, primping as if she were getting ready for
dinner with the Queen of England. By the time seven-thirty rolled around, we
were both ready for a fun night out.

"I told you that
dress looked gorgeous on you," I commented, giving Trisha the once-over.
She was wearing a deep blue dress that made her eyes seem even brighter and
clung to her body in all the right places. She had been an avid exerciser ever
since college and it showed in her lean lines.

I was more sedately
dressed in a black sheath that reached mid-thigh, cinched at the waist with a
thin grey leather belt. Trisha looked at me admiringly.

"I'd kill for your
curves."

"What is it with
women?" I asked, shaking my head. "We're never satisfied with what we
have. Here I was wishing that I was as fit as you." I grinned at Trisha.
"Let's just pronounce us both ravishing beauties and leave it at
that."

"Deal," she
said, linking her arm with mine. The trip downstairs in the elevator was quick
since I was only on the fifth floor. I greeted the doorman, who had earlier
insisted that I call him Harry, and hailed a cab outside. Even though the restaurant
was on the other side of town, traffic was relatively sparse and we got there
quickly.

"We have a
reservation for two at eight o'clock for Emma Mills," I told the maitre d'
once we arrived.

"Of course,"
he said graciously. "Right this way, Ms. Mills."

Trisha and I trailed
behind him as I surveyed the dining room, marveling at how impeccably decorated
it was. I enjoyed expensive restaurants, but I tended not to indulge too often.
The responsible side of me protested against spending hundreds of dollars for
one meal.

"Have a wonderful
evening, ladies," the maitre d' said after he had pulled out our chairs
and we had settled in. Trisha leaned over towards me immediately after we had
opened our menus.

"What the heck is
this? It just says random stuff like beef, veal and celery. How am I supposed
to order something that just says celery? A celery what? A celery puree? A
celery soup? Am I going to get a stalk of celery on a fancy plate?"

I couldn't help
laughing at Trisha's affronted expression. "I told you about the menu
before. They just list the main ingredient of each dish without telling you how
it's prepared. That way, it's a surprise when you get it. Just pick one out of
each category, sit back and enjoy."

Trisha didn't look too
happy about the menu setup, but she didn't utter another word of complaint
although I knew she wanted to interrogate the waiter about how the dishes were
prepared when he took our order.

"This is the
life," Trisha said with a sigh, leaning back into her chair as she took a
sip of the wine we had ordered. Apparently, the transgression of the sparsely
descriptive menu had been forgotten. "I wish I could spend every day
shopping and eating in swanky restaurants."

"I think it would
get boring pretty fast. There's only so many things you can buy and so many
plates of foie gras you can eat."

"Speak for
yourself. Didn't you know that you can never be too thin or too rich?"

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.