The Romance of Nick and Layla (Parts 1-3) (13 page)

"Never," he joked. Jerk.

"One more time!" I exhaled.

"Let me see that thing!" Nick grabbed the phone and pointed it in my direction.

"No! Not of me! Of us!" He started randomly snapping pictures of me scolding him. Of me laughing. Of me rolling my eyes.

"Oh wow, that’s sexy Layla."

"Ha-ha," I joked back.

"All right. Come here girl. Let’s do this right."

I wrapped my arms around Nick’s waist and waited for him to snap another picture. And he did. But then I felt his lips at my neck.... And heard the camera snap again.

"Nick...."

Another picture taken. He was nibbling on my ear, still taking pictures.

"Wouldn’t it be funny if these found their way on the Internet?"

Nick stopped kissing and looked at me, his eyes wide. "Girl, don’t even joke about that."

I laughed as I grabbed the phone out of his hands and held it securely in mine. "Well if we’re going to get all Tommy Lee and Pamela about it, then let’s do it the right way."

"Now that would be fun!" Nick’s eyebrows wiggled up and down.

"I don’t think your fans would appreciate it, Nick. And on another thought, I think they’d find out just exactly how naughty you really are."

Snap.

"Bet it’d be a best seller."

"Yeah. Your fans could get a one-of-a-kind look at all of your tattoos. And how your hair isn’t always perfect. And how white your ass is."

Snap.

"What is it with you and white asses? That’s the one part of your body that’s not supposed to be tan."

"Mine is."

"What?" His eyes travelled down my body, a slow smile splaying across his lips.

Snap.

"How could you not have noticed?"

"I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the color of your skin, Lay."

"No, but you were pretty busy down there."

Snap.

"Let me see."

"Now?" I asked. What does he want me to do? Lift up my dress and flash him my cheeks?

"Yeah. Hike that dress up girl!"

Snap.

"I’m not going to show you my ass."

"How come?"

"Because I haven’t done Pilates in over a week!"

Snap.

"Are you afraid you’ve lost your ass that fast?"

Snap.

"No."

"Do it!"

"Nick! You pervert!"

Snap.

"Want me to do it for you?"

"No!"

"Come on. Look you started this, now finish it."

"I’m not showing you my ass. It’s one thing when we’re in bed, but it’s quite another when we’re not in bed."

"There’s a dining room table in the next room," he joked, winking at me.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "One more picture before we’re late."

"All right. Let’s make this one count." Nick leaned in and kissed me. Snap. Oh yeah, that one definitely counts.

We probably should have known better. We should have realized that we were going to create a commotion. But did we think about it? No. And now we were in trouble.

It was one thing when everyone in the restaurant turned around to look at us as we were seated at our table. It was another when several fans came up and asked for autographs. Some of them were polite. Some of them weren’t. But when people started taking pictures, thinking we wouldn’t notice... That’s where I drew the line.

"Just ignore them, Lay."

I fidgeted with the napkin in my lap. I had lost my appetite completely. And my good mood was quickly dwindling. "I don’t like this Nick. We can’t even go out to dinner without someone making something of it. I mean come on! That guy over there is taking pictures of us!" I shook my head and swirled my fork through my pasta.

"Don’t worry about them. I’m here with you. Okay? If they want to make it their business, let them. We don’t have to acknowledge them if we don’t want to."

"I know. But I’m just thinking about what’s going to be in the media tomorrow morning. God only knows."

"Well then let’s give them something good to write about."

I looked up just as Nick placed a small, black velvet box in front of me. What the?

"What is this?"

"Open it."

I took a quick glance around. People were looking at us. Wanting to know what was in the box. Wanting their glimpses.

I looked back at the jewelry box and couldn’t help but smile. "I hope this isn’t an engagement ring. Because I’m already married."

Nick smile and pushed his plate of food away. "What a lucky man your husband must be."

"I hope he thinks so," I joked. I picked up the box. But I didn’t open it. I looked up at Nick. "What is this for?"

"You have to open it first." He slid his chair over until he was sitting next to me. He was waiting for me to open it. But I was hesitant.

Finally I did open it and was nearly blinded. There, nestled in the safety of black velvet padding, sat the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen in my life. A large, princess-cut yellow diamond sitting perfectly on top of a gold band. And I was completely speechless for the first time that night.

Nick picked up the ring with his fingers, then took my right hand and slid it on my bare ring finger. "Layla Hudson, it would mean the world to me if we could renew our wedding vows. Give us a new start. A new start to another year of marriage. Only this time, together. No separations. No screwing around. Just us."

I stared down at the ring, still speechless. Nick wanted us to renew our wedding vows. That was the last thing in the world I was expecting.

"And, just for the record, the entire restaurant is staring at you right now, waiting for you to say something."

I looked up at Nick. His eyes were twinkling and he had an easy smile on his face.

"Nick. Oh my god."

"What? Too yellow?" he joked.

"No. It’s not too yellow. It’s too perfect."

" A perfect ring for the perfect wife."

I frowned a bit. "I’m far from being perfect."

"Well, in my eyes at least. So what do you say?"

I didn’t have to think about it. I already knew my answer. "Yes."

It was like the first time he asked me to marry him. I was completely overcome with emotions. Love. Want. I was unsure. I was hesitant. But I wanted it.

We just had to make it work this time. Because honestly, if it got all fucked up again, I don’t think I could go on.

Chapter Seventeen

I love New York. Maybe Nick and I should just move here. There’s so much happening all at once. And it’s not as culturally flat as Los Angeles. It’d definitely be something to discuss over dinner tonight.

After last night’s fiasco at the restaurant, not to mention seeing our faces plastered everywhere this morning, we decided to spend our anniversary ordering room service and just hanging out. Why should the rest of the world be invited in on our special day?

Nick had some last minute things to take care of at the studio so I decided to do what I do best: shop for Nick. I love shopping for myself, don’t get me wrong, but there wasn’t a thing that made me happier than shopping for my husband. I had stumbled across Ralph Lauren and fell in love with everything I laid my eyes on. A nice young man named Paulo was holding my Nick purchases for me and had encouraged me to head upstairs to check out the new women’s line. I couldn’t refuse. Just a peek couldn’t possibly hurt. Right?

Wrong.

I was in a dressing room trying on a new swimsuit when I started to overhear a very interesting conversation somewhere in the room. It sounded like juicy gossip, so of course I listened in. It sounded like two women.

"Did you see the look on her face?" asked the first.

"Yeah. She looked really surprised," said the second.

"I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting him to pull that stunt last night. And she said yes! I’m having an even harder time believing that."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Nothing. We’re sticking with the plan. Believe me; those two will be over before they know it."

Ouch. This was better than soap operas.

"But what if they don’t break up?"

"Vee, I don’t want them to break up. I want them to get divorced. I want her to know what kind of man she‘s married to."

"He really did a number on you, didn’t he?"

"Believe me. Nick Hudson is not as nice as people think he is."

What the hell? I stopped dressing and stood completely still, trying to hear more of the conversation.

"But this is really messed up. And what did Layla do to deserve this?"

My breath caught in my throat and my body temperature increased.

"Never mind about the details, Vee. Let’s just stick with the plan. Trust me, you’re doing great. God and calling them when you knew Layla would answer the phone? Talk about priceless. I would have paid anything to see the look on her face when she found out that the woman that’s pregnant with Nick’s child was on the phone."

"I actually feel sorry for her. I mean, how many times has Nick slept with other women?"

"Believe me, you don’t want to know."

Oh, but I sure as hell do. I slammed open the door and was immediately faced with none other than Vanessa Carrington and Missy Page. They both turned around at the same time and looked at me, their faces white as sheets and their eyes wide, like deer-in-headlights.

"Go ahead Missy. I’m dying to know as well. Exactly how many women has Nick slept with?"

"Layla. Oh my God. I had no clue..."

"No, you never have a clue, do you Missy? So go on. Continue with what you were saying. You want to split up me and Nick, telling me what you know is a good way to do it."

"Layla," Missy started.

"Come on Missy. You obviously know. I don’t know how you know, but you better start telling me. Right now."

"I don’t think this is the time or place."

"Oh, but it was all right when you didn’t know I was here, right? So come on Missy. Why don’t you finish what you started?" I was so fuming mad I was sure steam was going to come roaring out of my ears at any moment.

"Layla, believe me this has nothing to do against you personally. It’s all on Nick."

"Bullshit. You’ve never liked me." Not that I cared.

"That’s not true. I’ve felt sorry for you."

"Liar!" I spat at her.

"I’m not lying! I’m sorry you put up with that bastard for so long. If you only knew half the things he did behind your back."

"Stop trying to put me off and just tell me. What is this big plan you’ve got cooked up against us?"

Missy sighed and put down a dress she had been holding. She looked at me and for the first time ever it was as if I was looking at someone else completely.

"Nick never told you that he and I dated, did he?"

Holy. Shit. "Excuse me?" That can’t be true. Nick would have told me that.

"In fact, he and I were still dating when he met you. We were pretty serious for a while. God, he told me he was going to Santa Barbara that weekend to do some press for his latest album. I had no idea what was really going on."

My mind flashed back to that day when Nick and I first met. It was in Santa Barbra. I could remember everything perfectly. Every moment we spent together was permanently etched into my brain.

"I didn’t find out the truth for another couple weeks. I had suspected he was cheating on me. But I never really wanted to believe it. That was, of course, until I overheard him on the phone with you."

Oh my God. She heard that? God, I could only imagine. The things we said that night. Jesus Christ.

"That was the night everything came out. About his affairs. About you. You were the worst of them all. God, he was so in love with you. He didn’t care that I was in love with him. He said he loved me. That lying bastard. And ever since then...."

"You’ve been trying to destroy him?"

"He never stopped. When I got the job working for the blog I was able to use my resources to find out all sorts of things. And I watched for two and a half years. Watched him cheat on you. Watched you come back to him. And it made me sick."

I could feel my stomach twisting into horrible knots. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to punch Missy. I wanted to kill Nick.

I stood there for countless minutes, listening as Missy Page counted off all the women Nick had slept with. While we were dating. While we were engaged. After we were married. And as up to as recently as a few weeks ago. And all the lies were suddenly revealed. And one-by-one, the longer Missy talked, the longer Vanessa talked, the more that came out. All the lies. All the cheating. All the broken promises. Until I had heard enough.

I could only do one thing. I had to find my husband.

Chapter Eighteen

I could have only imagined what was going on in Nick’s head when he walked through the door. Me, sitting on the floor, surrounded by my belongings all packed up, with a bottle of liquor in my hand. And I was drunk. No, not drunk. Completely drunk off my ass. Blindingly drunk.

I watched as he walked in slowly, like he was afraid to make any sudden movements.

"What’s going on?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, baby."

He laughed nervously and motioned at all of my packed items. "What’s with the suitcases?"

"I’m leaving."

"You’re what?"

"My flight leaves tonight. And as soon as I can stand up I’m going to call a hop bell and have him take my shit downstairs into a cab."

"Okay. Why are you leaving?"

"Because it’s taking all of my will to not strangle you right now. Besides, I don’t have an alibi."

"Lay, you’re scaring me. What the hell happened to you?"

I found my footing and was surprised when I stood up without falling over. "I had a nice little chat with Missy Page this afternoon. Apparently that girl knows a fuck of a lot more than we credit her for."

"What are you talking about?"

"What’s the matter Nick? You look scared."

Nick swallowed and tried to approach me, but he did so slowly. "I’m worried about you."

"Obviously not worried enough. Tell me something Nick. How the hell were you good enough to hide it from me?"