The Romance of Nick and Layla (Parts 1-3)
Page 6
“I think I have an idea,” he stated. I waited for him to share. “Might solve our Missy Page problems and your accessory issues at the same time. Maybe we should just tell the truth.”
I laughed. I really laughed. “Sure! We’ll release a statement announcing that we’ve been secretly married for the last year. And shit, we’ll not only be telling every fan in the world, we’ll also be announcing it to our parents. Yes, let’s do that!” I roared on his chest. Good Lord I think I might pee in my pants.
I felt my skin sting as he pinched me. “I’m being serious Layla.”
“Me too, Nick,” I laughed. Right. There’d be no coming back from that fiasco, and it would almost certainly guarantee whatever shred of privacy we had would be gone for good.
“I thought this is what you wanted? To finally show people that we’re married.”
“Yes, but we can’t just come out and say it, Nick.”
“The longer we wait the worse it’ll sound.”
He had a point. Shit. I finally crawled off of Nick and sat Indian-style next to him on the bed. It was time to break out of my sleepy haze and dive back into reality. “Nick. I like our anonymity. I like the fact that people haven’t figured us out. Besides....” Don’t say it Layla, it’ll only ruin things. Don’t say it. Don’t say it! “If they were to catch you with another girl they could just say, ‘Poor Layla, guess Nick’s moved on’. But if we’re announced as husband and wife, then it’s ‘Marital Woes for Pop Star and Wife.’ It’s worse that way.”
His expression dropped quicker than anything I’d seen before. “I thought you were going to believe me Layla? Please don’t tell me we’re back at square one again.”
“We’re not at one. But Nick I want you to really think about this before you make any decisions. Because it doesn’t affect me one bit. But you have a career to think about. And a lot of people depend on you. So maybe you should weigh the consequences before deciding.”
He shook his head. “I don’t care about all that. Not the fans, not the career. I’ve had a great career. It’s not like I’ll die wondering what it would have been like to make it big. I know what that’s like. Now I want to know what it’s like to be a husband. A real husband to you, Layla.”
My heart flipped. God I was such a bitch to him. A whole year. And I was missing out on this. “Nick you’re lying to yourself. I’m not asking you to give up anything for me. So don’t. Stay exactly who you are. You love your job and you’re good at it.”
Nick took my hand in his. “Let’s get away. Just you and me. Get away from all the bullshit. And we’ll make the decision together.”
“You mean like go on vacation?”
“Well yeah, since we technically never had a honeymoon.”
Technically, no. We didn’t leave the country and travel somewhere far and exotic for a couple weeks to celebrate being married. Instead we never left the bed. Who needed far and exotic when we had close and erotic?
“I think it’ll help calm us down. We’ve never actually lived together this long before.”
Maybe he was right. All signs indicated he was making an effort, and after all the bitching I’d done wasn’t it about time I gave him an ounce of the respect I was asking of him, and a bit of trust? I nodded my head. “Okay. When do you want to leave?”
Chapter Nine
My blood was boiling underneath the cover of my skin. I was swelling with hatred. Hatred for Nick. Hatred for myself. Hatred for that bitch Missy Page. And hatred for the woman I didn’t know that had now embedded herself right in the middle of me and my husband. I knew this would happen. I even told him it would happen. Fucking bastard.
“What are you reading?” Nick asked me as he set his luggage down in the foyer.
“A blog.” I looked at him gravely. You bastard.
“What’s Missy Page doing to rattle your cage this time?” Yeah, joke and laugh it off now.
“Take a look.” I turned the laptop around and watched his eyes narrow. His eyebrows caved in. His lips tightened into a thin line.
“Somehow I don’t think she’s lying this time. So let me guess. The blonde I caught you in bed with? Or is it another girl whose name you can’t remember?”
“This is impossible.” He looked about as outraged as I felt.
“Actually Nick, it’s not. I told you this would happen. I told you that you should be more concerned with knocking up one of your one-night-stand tramps than knocking up me. And look! Layla’s hit the mark again.”
Nick looked up at me with that same expression. “This has got to be bullshit.”
“Read it again Nick!”
“Well she lied about you being pregnant. She could be lying about this, too.”
“Don’t you dare try and blame this on that bitch. This is your fault. Yours alone, baby. So how does it feel?”
“How the hell does what feel?” He was so angry. Good.
“According to the Internet you’ve got two buns in two ovens. Of course we already know that one of them is a fabricated lie.”
“I’m going to call my lawyer.”
“And what? What are you going to say Nick?” I dropped the rest of my bags on the ground and looked at them scornfully. “We’re supposed to be going on vacation today.” I scoffed and shook my head at him. “I cannot believe we are at this point. I’m just... astounded. Yet at the same time I’m hardly surprised.”
“Layla,” he started to protest.
“Shut up Nick. Now it’s all out in the open. I guess this marriage was doomed to fail from the start.”
“Don’t say that! We don’t even know if this is legitimate.”
“Why would she do that? She’s already been with the great and all-powerful Nick Hudson. I think that would mean more to some girl than a check made out to her with your autograph on it.”
“I really wish you would save your bitching until after we find out the truth.”
“No. There is no ‘we’ Nick. You’re the one with the constantly unzipped pants. You made your bed. Now lie in it. You, your one-night-stand and your bastard child.”
“Pack the bags in the car. We’re changing our plans.”
“Excuse me?” Who the hell does he think he’s talking to?
“We’re going to straighten this thing out once and for all.”
“No. I am not going anywhere with you.”
“You have to settle this thing with me. This affects you too!”
“You can go wherever the you want to go, Nick. As for me? I’m going to my lawyer. Just be sure to let me know where you are so you can be served.”
“You’re not divorcing me. We don’t even know if this is true.”
“And what if it is true? Huh? You think the four of us will play house and live happily ever after? You could have a child Nick! A child by someone that isn’t your wife.”
“Then we’ll figure it out Layla. Jesus Christ we finally got our shit together and now you’re throwing it out the window again!” he yelled. Don’t you dare yell at me. I can scream much louder than you. And you know it.
“We’ll figure it out? And how are we going to do that Nick? You’ll spend Sunday through Wednesday with her and your child and I’ll get Thursday through Saturday? Is that what you think?” The blood in me was steaming. “I am not a timeshare! I am your wife!” I yelled.
“Then start acting like it!” he screamed back at me. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to just slap the words right out of his mouth. Anger. Burning anger was sizzling deep within my core.
“What the fuck would you know about being a good spouse? Because quite honestly Nick, you’re not exactly an expert. Why don’t you try to be a husband to me?”
“I’m here! Am I not standing right in front of you trying to work this out? Are you not trying to push me away for the millionth time? I’m trying, Layla! You’re the one checking out on me!” His voice was like thunder. He had never yelled at me like that. And for the first time in my life I was scared of him.
“You have one week.” I said simply. I said it calmly. Too calmly.
“One week? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“One week to figure this out. If you don’t. My lawyer will be calling you.”
“Don’t you dare give me an ultimatum. Don’t you dare, Layla!”
“What?” I asked incredulously.
“Marriage means two people sticking together no matter what. You and I are in this together. We’re going to figure out this mess together.”
“No. I‘m done. Figure this out on your own.” Nick’s cell phone rang and it only pissed me off more.
He looked at the caller ID and cursed under his breath. “I have to take this; it’s my manager. Don’t do anything. Just stay here.” He clicked on the phone and answered, sitting down on the couch in the foyer.
I listened to his side of the conversation. Already I could tell that whoever was calling was upset, and it was only making Nick more angry. I turned away to look at myself in the hallway mirror. All traces of happiness were completely gone. My eyes were stone cold and had seeped into a deep green. I glanced at Nick’s reflection and saw that he was looking at me. And God help me, I stared back. I didn’t want to cry, but I could feel my eyes burning with warm tears.
Nick clicked off his cell and slowly walked up behind me. He slipped his long fingers through the belt loops of my jeans and absently smoothed his thumbs over my waist. I stared at him through the mirror, but he barely glanced at me.
“We’re going to get answers, Layla. I promise you.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to tell the truth.”
“You don’t even know what the truth is, Nick. You don’t know if this girl is lying or not. And you still haven’t answered my question. What are you going to do if she is pregnant?”
“I don’t know.” He finally met my gaze. His eyes were intense and his eyebrows were furrowed low into his forehead. “I don’t want this any more than you do.”
“Well,” I didn’t know what to say. Not really. I was too upset. Too angry. Too sad. “How much of the truth are you going to tell?”
Nick gazed at me questioningly. “What do you mean?”
“Well no matter what it’s going to come out that you’ve been cheating on me. If you tell them that I’m not pregnant and that this girl might be, then you’ll have to answer questions about whether or not we’re breaking up. And that opens a whole new can of worms.”
“There’s no pretty side to this, is there?”
“You know what Nick? Maybe you should think about the consequences of your actions before you engage in those actions. You might save yourself from a whole shit load of PR hell.” I took his hands and peeled them off of me, and I walked towards the kitchen to grab some food.
“And,” I continued, opening a bottle of chilled water. “If you tell them that we’re really married, then you’ll be the husband that cheats on his wife and impregnates other women. You’ll have a lot more to deal with. No, we’ll have a lot more to deal with.” I took a sip of the liquid, allowing time for my words to sink into Nick’s head. “Additionally, if you tell them we are in fact married, an even bigger media storm will kick up once I file for divorce.”
“Why are you still talking about divorcing me?” I could see how annoyed he was with me. But I don’t care. He had no right.
“I told you. I’m not going to be your wife if you’ve created a child with another woman. I may be a glutton for punishment when it comes to loving you, but I refuse to commit to that. And I’m sure as hell not going to be a step-mommy. Hell no.”
“Maybe you should just chill and wait to see what’s really going on? There’s still the possibility that she’s not pregnant. Or that it’s not even mine.”
“Fine. You’ll have a paternity test and then I’ll make my move. But until then I want you to leave.”
“What?”
“I’m kicking you out of my house. From this minute on until the minute you find out the paternity of the baby, you and I are officially separated.”
He just shook his head and laughed incredulously at me. “Fine.” He looked so pissed off. At me. At the world. At himself. And for the first time that day I felt something I hardly felt for Nick. Sympathy.
I put my water down on the counter and walked up behind him. I snaked my arms around his waist from behind and leaned my cheek against his shoulder blade.
I didn’t know what to say and I probably shouldn’t have said anything. And I didn’t. And he didn’t. Instead he put a hand on mine and squeezed it tight, his head hanging low.
Chapter Ten
I mentally prepped myself for the press conference Nick’s handlers had arranged. I had only ever done one or two and they always made me nauseatingly nervous.
Nick had spent the night, but we kept our distance in the bed, our backs facing each other. And so far this morning we hadn’t said a word to each other. It was probably better that way. We were both on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall at any moment.
In the walk-in closet I thought about what I should wear. Did I want to be comfortable? Did I want to look conservative? It sounded stupid but it’s true: How you look dictates what people will say about you.
Nick walked in and stood in front of his side of the closet. He pulled down a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt and I couldn’t help but groan my disdain.
“We’re not going to the movies, Nick.”
“Okay, Mom, what do you think I should wear?”
I looked him up and down. Sweat pants and a wife beater. Hell, he should just go like that. Really piss people off. I rifled through hangers of his clothes, mentally picturing how they would make him look. And then I got an idea.
I picked out a pair of khaki slacks and a beautiful white shirt. Then I addressed a large shelf on my half and produced a box gift-wrapped in Burberry paper. I handed it to him.
“What’s this?”
“I bought this for you a while ago. It’ll go with your outfit.”
Nick unwrapped the box and pulled out a beautiful Burberry tie. He looked at me. “You want me to wear a tie?”
“It’s respectable, Nick.”
“What are you wearing?” he asked curiously.
I pulled out my favorite Prada dress. A black, incredibly snug, incredibly chic, little black dress. I then bent down and picked up a shoe box holding a pair of gorgeous heels from Chanel. “And don’t forget to wear your glasses.”
“Why?”
“Because they make you look sexy and it’s a proven fact that nobody can resist you or be mad at you when you look sexy.”
His face lightened a bit and I swear I thought he almost smiled. “Proven according to whom?”
“Me.”
Half an hour later I dabbed on a bit of gloss on my lips and took a look at myself one final time. I looked good. It was a small token, but at least we would look happy and matched-up. Though it was practically a lie.
I turned off the bathroom light as I exited and sat down on the bed to put on the 4-inch shoes. I would be just as tall as Nick, if not slightly taller. I looked up as he entered my line of view and felt my heart flutter. Damn. He looked good. And he was already wearing his glasses.
I stood up, all six feet plus of me, and walked up to him, stretching my arms up to his tie.
“What are you doing?” he asked, looking at me.
“Loosen your tie a bit. You’re not selling Bibles, you’re saving your career. There.” I stood back and admired him. “You look very handsome.”
I felt nervous as he looked me over, taking all of me in. And for the first time he smiled. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. Hold on, I have something else for you.” I went to my dresser and pulled another wrapped box from a drawer. I turned around and handed it to Nick. “I got that for you too.”
&n
bsp; Nick’s smile faded and he looked a tad bit upset. “Did I miss our anniversary or something?”
“Our anniversary is in a month. This is from me to you. No reason.”
Nick unwrapped the box and opened it up, revealing a watch.
“I saw it at Kenneth Cole and thought you could wear it on special occasions. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He looked at me with sad eyes. Again, I felt sympathy. I looked at his hair and ran my fingers through the gelled spikes. “You don’t have to buy me anything.”
“I know. But it makes me happy to do it.” I took Nick’s left hand and held it in my left hand. My fingers twisted his wedding band, moving it in circles. “You might want to take this off. Don’t want to make things worse.” I watched as he slid the ring off his finger and closed it in his hand.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“Hey Nick?”
He looked into my eyes and studied me hard. I wanted to tell him I loved him. But instead I kissed him.
My stomach was turning in knots as I watched Nick standing at a podium, dozens of microphones attached, on a platform above the hungry mobs of press and paparazzi. He took a deep breath and glanced behind at me. I softly nodded my head, showing him he was doing fine, and he turned around to address the people.
“Undoubtedly you have all heard about the recent events in my personal life. I’m here today to set the record straight. There are two allegations against me. The first is that my girlfriend, Layla Garrett is pregnant. The second is that a second woman is pregnant by me. The truth is...” he paused and the room was dead silent, all waiting in hushed anticipation, fingers ready to tweet the news to the masses.
Nick reached into his left pocket then. I watched in a kind of fear as he pulled out his wedding band and slipped it on his ring finger. “I never cheated on my girlfriend.” What the hell? The room filled with the buzz of whispers and under-breath comments. Several people looked up at me and I had to admit that I was having a very difficult time hiding my reaction to Nick’s statement. “I never cheated on my girlfriend because Layla Garrett isn’t my girlfriend.” Oh shit. “She’s my wife.”