He said the last two words suggestively and I felt my temper rise. We had said our goodbyes last month and I didn't want him here now, making my emotions tilt out of control. He had no right to invade my life and embarrass me in front of Drew.
"Yes, Jackson and I knew each other a long time ago," I said in a sickly sweet voice. "I was friends with his girlfriend, Claire."
Jackson drew in a sharp breath, looking thunderous as he grabbed my wrist. "We need to talk."
Drew stepped forward, but I shook my head, pleading with my eyes for him to not make the situation worse. I shifted my gaze back to Jackson, glaring at him.
"You're making a scene," I hissed, painfully aware of the growing stares. I even saw a waiter stop in his tracks, blatantly watching us.
"It's up to you," Jackson said grimly. "We can do this here or we can do this in private."
Jackson's ruthless expression made me believe him. He would make a scene in public regardless of the repercussions. I stood resignedly, looking apologetically at Drew.
"I'm sorry, Drew. I need to take a rain check on lunch." I glared at Jackson before continuing. "I need to settle some things with Jackson."
"Are you sure, Emma?" Drew asked, looking concerned and ignoring Jackson's darkening face. "You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to."
I mustered up a smile for Drew, wanting to get out of the restaurant as fast as possible. I could feel the heavy stares on us. "It's fine, Drew. Jackson and I just had a disagreement that we need to discuss. I'll see you at work later."
Drew nodded, not looking convinced, as Jackson drew me away, his hand still manacled around my wrist.
"Slow down!" I hissed, having to run to keep up with Jackson's pace. "You're drawing attention to us!"
I was aware of a man appearing out of nowhere with a camera as Jackson hailed a cab, my wrist still trapped in his grasp. I turned my face quickly as I heard the shutter of a camera, relieved when Jackson opened the door of the cab, pushing me inside. He climbed in after me, seemingly oblivious to the cameras beside the cab as he muttered an address to the driver that I didn't hear. I was too busy burying my face in my hands as cameras clicked on the other side of the window, the lone paparazzi having been joined by others.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I whispered, not looking up. "Haven't you already done enough? Can't you leave me in peace?"
I raised my head when Jackson didn't answer. He was looking straight ahead and his profile looked like it was made out of granite, hard and unyielding. I didn't ask Jackson where we were going because I wasn't sure if he would have even answered. I tensed when I realized we were headed toward Jackson's old neighborhood. I didn't think he was taking me to Andrews since that was public as well. I didn't understand why we were going there.
I finally found my voice when the cab stopped in front of Jackson's old building and the driver sped away after Jackson paid him.
"What are we doing here?"
"We need somewhere private to talk where everyone's not fucking staring at us," he answered harshly. I could feel his rage simmering beneath the surface but I didn't understand its cause.
He had never released my wrist and I let him pull me into the building. I didn't think Jackson had kept his old apartment, but then it was probably nothing to someone like Jackson to have empty apartments sitting around.
My lips parted in surprise when I saw Sam at the front desk, looking exactly the same as he did five years ago. He greeted Jackson as if seeing him was a usual occurrence, but his eyebrows rose when he saw me.
"Emma!" he exclaimed warmly. "What a nice surprise to see you!"
"It's good to see you too, Sam," I responded with a genuine smile. I was surprised that he remembered me. "It's been a long time."
I wasn't able to hear his response as Jackson dragged me to the elevator, furiously punching the button as if it had done him some personal harm. When we stepped inside the elevator, I wrenched my hand away, rubbing my wrist where Jackson had squeezed so tightly.
"What is wrong with you!" I yelled, looking at Jackson as if he had lost his mind. "Are you possessed? You're acting crazy!"
My bravado disappeared as Jackson crowded me into the corner of the elevator. "Are you fucking him?"
I stared up at Jackson, shocked by his question and the ferocity of his tone. Jackson reached up, grabbing my arm and shaking me roughly. There was no gentleness in his touch or expression. "Answer me!"
I shook my head, my momentary fear replaced with anger. "You are crazy. Or is this how you think you're allowed to behave because you're rich and famous? Other people might put up with your sense of entitlement, but not me. Get the hell away from me."
I pushed against his chest but Jackson was an unmovable force. He sneered at my attempt to push him away and opened his mouth to speak, but the chime of the elevator indicating we had reached the sixteenth floor interrupted him. He grabbed my wrist again and I let him lead me to his apartment. I was going to have to let this play out for Jackson to leave me alone and it was better to do it in the privacy of his apartment. Even though I could feel the violence of Jackson's anger, I knew that he would never hurt my physically. The emotional pain was what I was frightened about.
My mind blanked when I stepped inside the apartment after Jackson had unlocked the door. Goosebumps raised on my arms as I gazed around the apartment, feeling as if I had been transported back in time. The apartment looked exactly the same as it had five years ago. All the furniture we had picked out together was still arranged in the same way, but it was more than that. It looked as if Jackson and I were still living here, as if we had just left to run some errands and were returning any minute. My blue sweater that I always draped over the back of the couch in case I got cold was there, as well as my barrette that I routinely left on the coffee table in case I wanted to clip my bangs out of my face while watching TV. Next to the barrette was a copy of The Way We Were, the case ajar as if it had just been watched. I remembered the countless times I made Jackson watch the sappy movie, tearing up at the end and then laughing as he kissed my tears away.
I picked up a framed picture of us on a side table. We had asked a bystander to take a picture of us by the John Lennon memorial in Central Park and I had lovingly placed it on the table, feeling as if my father was in the picture with us.
I looked up to see Jackson watching me, an unreadable expression on his face. I didn't want what to feel as I continued to explore the apartment, noticing all the little details that had been kept perfectly intact. It was eerie to see my belongings scattered about as if I still lived there. I half-expected to bump into myself when I rounded the corner and entered the bedroom. If the living room had shocked me, the bedroom rendered me speechless.