With flying, it’s a whole other ball of wax. First, you can’t stop. Not unless you have a layover and in that case the only view you’ll have in sight will be a Starbucks and a bunch of planes. And if you get out of your seat, your head is maybe a foot away from the ceiling and your hips are in danger of hitting every other annoyed person on the plane. Plus, the bathrooms suck. If I wanted to pee in a box the size of a refrigerator... well, that would just make me stupid. And to top it off, they never play a movie I want to see. And if, by an act of God, they do show a movie I want to see, the crappy headphones - overpriced at five, sometimes ten dollars - always fall out of my ears. And please, let’s not even start talking about the food.
Per Nick’s instructions, I didn’t pack one single item. Okay, that’s not true. Once I grabbed my purse and keys and put on a jacket, I grabbed my makeup bag. A girl cannot live without her makeup. I don’t care what anybody says. After five hours of flying in a compressed tube, I needed make up pick-me-ups. Of course they searched through my bag when I was trying to get to my gate. And I must admit that I was somewhat amused to find the male security guard picking up all my different pots of eye shadow and tubes of mascara and lipstick and glosses and looking at each item as if it might conceal a bomb or something. Yes, because I always carry a bomb inside my MAC foundation. Never leave home without it.
As soon as I stepped into the baggage claim area I looked for Nick. I looked at all the tall men wearing hats and sunglasses but didn’t spot him. I frowned. Surely he couldn’t be running late. After all that fuss he made earlier? He couldn’t still be recording at this hour, could he? Maybe traffic was bad? Oh Lord. Like I know my way around JFK, or New York for that matter.
And then I felt a pair of hands cross over my eyes, blinding me. I was too tired to protest.
"Hi Nick."
The hands moved away and I could feel his lips at my neck. "Hello Mrs. Hudson."
I turned around and was surprised to see Nick as Nick. No sunglasses. No hat. Just that famous face.
"Isn’t it against the law for you to not wear a disguise?"
Nick shrugged. "Don’t know, don’t care. Hi."
"Hi."
He kissed my lips sweetly and pulled away, smiling broadly. "So how was your flight? No, wait, don’t tell me. It was about four hours too long with crappy food and a crappy movie?"
"Exactly. But this is worth it."
"Oh, so I’m worth five hours of boredom? I see my approval rating has gone up several points."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why are you in such a good mood? You hate airports."
"Not true. I love airports when you’re in them."
"Well I’m here. Do what you want with me."
Nick’s grinned turned evil. Uh oh. "Layla sweetie, I don’t think the other people would appreciate us having sex right here, right now."
"Are you on Viagra or something?"
Nick laughed loudly and I could already see several heads turning in our direction. "No. Have I ever needed help in that department?"
Never. "Well I don’t have any bags so we can leave when you want."
"And what’s this?" he asked, pointing to my makeup case.
"Please. Like I’d leave the house without this thing. You know me better than that."
"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look?"
I rolled my eyes. "Only you would find puffy eyes and disheveled hair attractive."
"Only on you."
"Nick... You’re so..."
"Handsome? Funny? Annoying?"
"Yes. To all three. And especially the last."
"Come on girl. Let’s get out of here. I can already see people recognizing me. And I’m not in the mood to play pop star."
"Oh, but you do it so well, honey!" I grabbed Nick’s hand in mine and let him lead me out into the cold air.
He led me to a black stretch limo. A man in a tuxedo opened the door and looked at me expectantly. A limo? Is he for real?
"You drove here in a limo?" I asked incredulously.
"Of course. Didn’t you hear? I’m rich."
"Hello, why do you think I married you?" I joked.
Nick swatted my ass and gestured for me to get in the back of the car. I slid in and immediately felt at ease. Ah, the joys of leg room and soft lighting. Nick slid in next to me and the door was closed. Less than a minute later we were pulling away from the curb and joining the airport traffic.
Once I was comfortable in my seat I turned to look at my husband. "So, where’s my present?"
"Your what?"
"My present! You don’t think I flew all the way to New York just to see you, did you? Velvet box? Possibly jewelry? Possibly condoms?"
"Which would you rather have?" he asked with that cocky grin.
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
"Maybe not. But your present is back at the hotel. For now you just have to wait. With me."
"Damn."
Nick played with my fingers as he stretched back into the seat, relaxing into the comfortable leather. "So what’d you do today?" he asked.
"An interview that I should have said no to.”
Nick looked at me strangely. "Since when do you do interviews?"
"Since knowing that if I didn’t the phone calls would never stop. Besides, they were nice enough. A bit over-zealous with trying to make me say something revealing, but basically it was nothing."
"What’d they want to know?"
"What size shoe I wear. What do you think? They asked about you and me and our marriage and Vanessa."
"Oh."
"Don’t worry. I didn’t reveal anything they didn’t already know. But I did clear up the rumor that we’re divorcing."
Nick went tense next to me. Even in the dark I could see the pensive look on his face. The cloudiness in his eyes. "What’d you say?"
"The truth."
Nick looked at me gravely. "Which is?"
I interlocked our hands and crossed my legs. "That we’re not getting divorced."
I could hear him breathe a sigh of relief. Guess he was also wondering about that one. "Glad to hear it."
"So tell me about what you’ve been working on these past couple of weeks."
Nick’s body relaxed again and it made me relax. "Usual stuff. But I’m doing more writing. More producing. Playing more instruments."
"Anything I can hear yet?"
"Maybe in a couple of days. I want to make sure what I have is perfect before I let you listen to it."
"Why?" I asked. Sometimes hearing the unfinished work was more enjoyable than the finished product. Less glossy production. More raw music.
"Just because."
"Nick, why are you so concerned that I listen to your music only when it’s perfect? You know I think that anything you sing is perfect."
Nick smiled and looked at me. "Thanks. So what have you been doing the past couple weeks? Plotting bloody murder on Missy Page?"
"No. That only took a couple hours. The rest of the time I just hung out at the house. Went shopping. Went to the beach. Got some sun. Cleaned the house. Started a writing project."
"You’re writing again?" he asked with sudden interest.
"Yeah. I mean, I have my degree in English Literature, might as well use it for something, right?"
"What are you writing about?"
"Right now, a bunch of nonsense. I haven’t exactly found my solid plot yet. But basically it revolves around a young girl and her relationships in life."
"Autobiographical?"
"Not really. Just based on some things I’ve seen in life."
"I bet you’d be really good at writing music."
I’d be good at writing what?! "Why do you say that?"
"Because you write from your heart. And you’ve been through so much in your short life so far. I just think you’d really be able to write something great."
"I’ve never tried. Never crossed my mind to try. I leave that stuff up to you. You’re the musical g
enius."
Now it was Nick’s turn to roll his eyes. "Whatever."
"Are you blushing?" I took a close look at his face in the darkened limo and smiled.
"No."
"Yes you are."
"No. You blush. I tint."
I laughed my ass off at that one. "How exactly does one tint?"
"You know!" He made an unclear hand gesture. "Tint."
"Nick you’re too much."
"Oh, before I forget, I do have something for you." I watched as he reached into the tiny refrigerator and pulled out a clear plastic box. He handed it to me after placing a fork on top. "Big gooey chocolate cake."
"Oh my god!" I laughed. "You brought me cake?!"
"I brought you cake. You know, since you love it so much."
I looked at Nick and smiled. "Yeah. I do."
I watched with keen surprise as Nick’s face suddenly welled up with emotion. "That’s what you said on our wedding day. And you said it with that exact expression on your face that you have now."
Is he? I think he’s going to cry. "Nick, are you okay?"
"I’m fine."
"You’re crying."
"No I’m not."
"Yes you are, Nick."
"Guys don’t cry."
"I’ve seen you cry. You’re a guy."
"Thank you for noticing. But no, I’m not crying."
"Okay, then why are you so emotional? And how on Earth do you remember my exact facial expression the day we were married?"
Nick’s eyes diverted down to our joined hands. "I remember every single moment of that day." He took my left hand in his left hand and locked them together, our wedding rings clinking softly against each other. "And I’m not emotional. I’m just.... I don’t know."
"You’re not as good as you think you are."
Nick looked up at me, a questioning look on his face. "Not good at what?"
"Hiding how you feel. At least not with me. Sometimes, Nick Hudson, I think you forget who you’re talking to. Your wife. After the years we’ve spent together I’ve learned how to read you. And right now I’m reading some extreme emotional stuff going on in that handsome head of yours."
Nick raised an eyebrow. "I just can’t believe it’s been a year already."
"Didn’t think we’d make it?"
"No, not that. It seems like longer. But with the time we were separated..."
"Shh." I put my free hand on his leg and squeezed gently. "Let’s not talk about the past, okay? We’re trying to work things out, remember? Let’s rehash the bad stuff another day."
"Good idea."
"So. Now that I’m here in New York with you what do you have planned for me? Hopefully a Broadway show is included somewhere in the mix."
"Sure, if you want."
"I want."
Nick laughed easily and leaned into me. "What else do you want?"
"A nice, hot, long shower."
"I think I can arrange for that."
"Maybe a massage."
"Mmm hmm," he nodded his head, taking note of my requests.
"And, more than anything..."
"The longest love making session known to man?" he interrupted me.
Good Lord. "You’re quite persistent, aren’t you?"
"Have to be. Or else I’d never have anything. Like you."
I smiled as a flood of memories came back to me. The first day we met. The first time we kissed. How I wouldn’t kiss him and he.... Sweet Lord. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. "Hot chocolate."
"Hot chocolate?"
"A big brimming cup of sweet, chocolately goodness."
"So after the shower, a massage and hot chocolate, then what do you want?"
"You have to ask?"
"With you? Always."
I rolled my eyes and bumped my shoulder against his. "You know me. Yes, after a shower, a massage and hot chocolate, then we can have the longest love making session known to man. As long as it’s erotically mind blowing."
"I think I can do that."
"Oh I know you can. The battery operated penis is one thing, but it doesn’t give me multiple orgasms."
"And you think I’m naughty."
"You are. I learned from the naughtiest."
"Girl you know it’s true," he sang.
"Damn. Can’t this stupid car move any faster?"
I watched as the smile on Nick’s lips grew wider and wider. And cockier.
Ooh. Was I in for quite a night.
Chapter Fifteen
This was exactly what I needed. Hot. Steamy. Orgasmic. Oh so good.
I felt my heart expand several inches as I let myself be taken in by the sweet goodness of it all. I closed my eyes. I think I even moaned. Oh but I couldn’t help it.
"Damn Layla."
I opened my eyes and looked at Nick, my lids heavy with content.
"I’ve never seen anyone react that way to hot chocolate."
I set the big mug down on my knee and tried not to smile.
"I saw that."
"What are you, the hot chocolate police? Leave me alone! It’s cold and this is good." I gave Nick my best annoyed look and went back to my drink. His hand touched the inside of my knee. It was better than the chocolate.
"That’s a no parking zone, Hudson. Keep it moving."
"What’s gotten into you Layla? You’re so normal."
I thought about it. Normal? As opposed to what? "Thanks?" I asked, unsure.
"You know what this reminds me of?" he asked.
I looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think about it. Wonder how long I’d have to look without saying anything before he’d realized I wasn’t really thinking? Two minutes. Tops.
"I was just thinking about how this is what it was like when we were first dating. You know?"
"Yeah. I guess. It was a long time ago."
"Three years isn’t a long time," he grunted.
"It is in Nick and Layla time."
"Good point."
"Maybe we never were fucked up, Nick." The room suddenly became dead quiet. I couldn’t even hear our own breathing. It was like someone put us on mute.
"What do you mean?" he asked finally.
"Maybe we were normal the whole time. I mean, couples fight, right? We fought more often than not, but still, we’re together. Right now. For a whole year now. Maybe we weren’t fucked up, is all I’m saying."
"What are you saying Layla? That we’re going to put all of the past behind us and start new?"
"Exactly. Maybe we should put everything on hold for a while. Just so that we can get to know each other again. So we can fall in love again. I mean, I love you, always did and always will. But maybe we can get that spark back that we had. You remember that spark, don’t you?"
I turned to look as Nick smiled. Oh yeah, he remembered. "Yes."
"We were happy, weren’t we?"
"Yes."
"Before it all went awry. Don’t know when it all fell apart. But it changed us, you know?"
"Yeah."
"And now we should try and reclaim that. Right?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to say anything besides ‘yeah’ or ‘yes’?"
"Sure."
"And to be honest, about this whole baby thing... Whatever happens, happens. Right? Nothing’s going to bring us down again. If this child is yours, then it’s yours. So be it. Done deal. We’ll adjust."
Nick’s bottom lip quivered. His eyes were big and blue. He looked so young just then. So vulnerable. And it touched the places in my heart that I thought were closed off from him.
"Baby, what’s wrong with you?" I asked. I set my cup of hot chocolate down on the floor and twisted my body so I could look him in his eyes. "Why do you look like you’re going to cry?"
"I just..." Nick’s voice came in and out. I could barely hear him. And for the first time in a really long time I watched him start to cry.
"Nick, what’s the matter?"
He laughed nervously and wiped his eyes wit
h his hands. "I don’t know why I’m crying!"
I caught his hands in mine to stop him. "Don’t wipe away your tears," I whispered.
Nick just looked at me. I watched as the blue in his eyes intensified. "Why?"
I felt my own chest desperately heaving to bring in oxygen. I couldn’t escape his eyes. It was like I was being pulled into him. And all of a sudden I felt it. Love. Holy God. So this is what complete and total love felt like? Like my body was gravitated into Nick’s body? Like I had to touch him just to make sure he was still there. And I had to look into his eyes just to understand what he was telling me all along. I’m his. And he’s mine. And I finally felt it. This is my man. This is my husband. Those are my tears he’s crying.
I could taste the sweet-saltiness of his tears as my lips pressed gently against his eyes. And I wanted to give myself to him. To make me believe that I was his. To let me be his. To let him own me the way he wanted me to own him. Forever. As husband and wife. As Nick and Layla. Until the day we die.
"You don’t have to hide from me," I whispered, my lips pressed to his cheek. "You don’t have to wipe away your tears for me. I like to see that you’re flawed. It just makes you that much more perfect to me."
"I’m so glad you’re back," he whispered into me. "You’re back to being the same Layla Garrett I fell in love with. Before we fucked it all up."
"Don’t call me that." I could only imagine that his eyes reflected the intensity in my own eyes. We stared at each other and with each passing moment, an understanding formed. I looked at his lips. "My name is Layla Hudson. You gave me your last name. And I’m keeping it."
"It’s yours."
"Good." I could taste more tears on his lips. Such a strange sensation.
And finally, with just one kiss, everything made sense. But with a touch, with just a microsecond of his skin against mine... Forget sense. This was heavenly. This was right. This was all ours.
"Layla, what was the last thing I told you at our last meeting?"
How is it possible that, even over the phone, even over three thousand miles, Doctor Brown still manages to be patronizing? "’Goodbye’?"
The Romance of Nick and Layla (Parts 1-3) Page 9