The Romance of Nick and Layla (Parts 1-3) (2 page)

"Yes, I can!" he yelled back.

"Oh, get off it Nick!" I rolled my eyes, snapped off the coffee machine and grabbed his mug from his hands. I tossed the liquid into the sink and slammed the mug down in the basin.

" I was drinking that!"

"Handle your hangover your own way!" I retorted. "And for the love of God Nick why isn’t this place a mess?"

Nick’s eyes increased an inch in diameter. "Excuse me?"

"You usually trash this place after I clean it and I cleaned it a week ago! So you must not have been home if it’s still clean!"

"Did it ever occur to you that I might have kept it clean myself?"

"No! Since when have you ever done that?" Shit, okay Layla, deep breaths. Deep breaths. Think of calming images. The ocean. Yes, waves calmly breaking against a sandy shore. Yoga on a sunny day. Kissing your husband passionately. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

"Calming images?" he asked, clearly amused. It took everything in me not to smack him.

"Why do you want to sell this house Nick? Why when you know how much it means to me?" My eyes were pleading. I needed an answer. How could he just throw it all away?

Nick exhaled deeply and shook his head. "Because it... It just reminds me of what we don’t have anymore."

"Well... I mean, we’re still together aren’t we?"

"You call living in separate houses being together? Come on Layla. You know better than that."

"Nick, you’re the one that can’t keep his dick in his pants. Why should I sleep in your bed when you’ve been sharing it with other women? Is that fair to me?"

"That’s the point, Layla. You won’t come anywhere near me. How are we supposed to connect and be intimate when you can’t even touch me without..."

"How am I supposed to be intimate with you when you don’t seem all that interested in saving our marriage?" I cut him off. His incessant need to screw anyone but his wife was not my problem. I wasn’t going to let him blame me for our problems.

Nick scoffed and shook his head again. He did that often. He turned and started to walk away. He did that often, too. That’s just the way he was; running away from his problems every chance he got. "You already know I don’t want to be anything but married to you, Layla. So give me a break already."

I followed him back up the stairs and into his bedroom. "And why is that Nick? Because I give you a sense of security? Because you know that I’m always here for you and that I love you forever? Or am I just your default plan when something else doesn’t pan out?"

Nick turned around and stared at me incredulously. "What?!"

"You heard me! You used to come home to me whenever one of your female conquests wouldn’t put out and I welcomed you with open arms because you’re my husband and I didn’t know any better. You said to me, ‘Layla, marry me because I can’t imagine ever being lonely with you by my side.’ And I’ve been there for you Nick! I’m the glittering accessory on your arm when you go to an awards show. I’m the ‘will they or won’t they’ girlfriend that all the blogs gossip about. I’m your little trophy for you to cart around whenever you feel like you need a companion." Saying the words to him out loud felt good, but just made me feel even more like a doormat.

"No, that’s not it. You’re the girl I fell in love with two years ago. The girl that I’ve always loved no matter what."

"Then that’s our problem Nick. Love isn’t supposed to be ‘no matter what’! It’s supposed to be forever because we both know that we’re fucked up and insane and crazy yet we still have to breathe the same air in order to survive because we need to be around each other that much. Not no matter what."

Nick scrubbed his face with his palms and fingertips. Already he was developing dark circles under his eyes. I hope his makeup person can cover them up before the show tonight. Those babies would look bad in the publicity photos.

"Layla, obviously we have drifted apart," he said finally.

"Yeah I’d say so." I crossed my arms over my chest and looked up at him, feeling at a complete loss. How could I love him so much after everything he put me through? "But what’s going to remedy it? You’ll tell me that you’ll stop sleeping around. I’ll move back in with you and in a month everything will fall apart again."

"It doesn’t have to be like that."

"But you make it like that, Nick! Am I not devoted to you? Don’t I do your laundry and clean your house and do all the other things a wife is supposed to do for her husband, whom she loves more than she loves herself?"

"So then what do you want to do? Do you want to get away together? Go to some secluded beach and try and reclaim what we once had?"

I closed my eyes. "In other words, ‘Can’t we just put a band-aid on it Layla?’ I don’t think so Nick. Not this time. You’re going to have to let me know why you need me, because honestly I love you to death, but I’m not going to be your backup anymore. I love you and I’m worth more than that. I hope you feel the same way about me."

Nick’s face fell. His eyes watered up and I could see his blue eyes liquefying like melted ice as he cupped my face in his hands and held me close to him. "You know that I do. You know that I need you, Layla." He didn’t cry, but his voice was dry and broken. Yeah, I knew. But I was still worth more.

"Don’t make me this promise again Nick," I cried. I put my hands over his and wrapped my fingers around them. "Don’t promise me that you’ll try to be better because every time you do you end up breaking it. You end up breaking my heart. And I can only take that so many times before I want to just give up."

Nick took control of my lips and I felt lost again. The way he ever-so-slightly tugged on my top lip in between kisses had always driven me mad, and this time was no exception. I could feel his warm tongue, taste the girl he was with earlier. I pushed him away, putting my hand on his chest and kept it there. "I don’t believe you’re trying to do this with me, especially after I caught you in bed with another woman minutes ago."

"What? I’m not allowed to kiss you now?" Jesus, he really didn’t get it.

"Not when you were just with someone else!" I argued. I smoothed my hands over my shirt and then through my hair, straightening it back behind my shoulders. I took a deep breath and pulled up a calming image into my mind. "Why don’t you jump in the shower and I’ll fix us up some breakfast okay?" I felt tears running down my face and I was powerless to reach up and stop them.

I could feel him staring at me and I wanted nothing more than to reach up and kiss him. But not with the taste of another woman still in his mouth.

"Layla..." His hands were in my hair, moving in circles across my scalp until my eyes were starting to droop.

"Nick... Okay?"

"I do love you Layla," he whispered.

"I love you too Nick."

He placed a kiss on my forehead then walked away. I kept my eyes closed for a moment, then headed down the stairs to fix him his favorite blueberry pancakes. I remember when I made them for him the morning after we first made love. We ate them in bed while watching infomercials, laughing at all the has-been celebrities hocking high-tech mops and kitty litter scoopers. I remember that moment because of how it made me feel. Loved. I don’t believe in love, but I do believe that I want and need to feel and be loved by Nick more than anything else in the world.

Damn you, Nick. I just know you’re going to be the death of me one day.

Chapter Two

Flash. The door opened. A leather shoe clicked onto the pavement. Flash. Click, Flash. Nick eased himself out of the rear of the limo and out underneath the bright L.A. sun. More cameras clicked off as he reached into the limo with his right arm. I held on and delicately stepped out of the limo, one bejewelled stiletto clicking onto the ground, followed by a second. A tent of floral colored silk draped down my legs as I stood upright. I employed my mega-watt, million-dollar smile and prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi, bloggers, and screaming fans. Nick and I smiled at each other like we had a scandalous secret only the two of us knew. People from every direction were screaming Nick’s name and pleading for a photo or a quick interview.

We held hands and smiled, looking from one camera to the next. The first to shove a microphone and a camera in our face was a blogger from a prominent celebrity gossip site. He had unruly purple hair and a sneering smile. It was my least favourite part of the job.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" Nick smiled.

"Good, good. Now, you're not nominated tonight but does something as huge as the Grammys still have the same excitement as when you're here as a nominee?"

Nick flashed his pop star smile and a dozen panties dropped to the ground. "Well it definitely takes the pressure off to not be a nominee myself, but the party is still the same. It's all about supporting your peers and the music industry."

"Anyone in particular you're looking forward to seeing perform tonight?"

Nick looked down at me and we exchanged another we've-got-a-big-secret smiles. "We both love everyone but we’re especially excited about some of the newer acts."

He thanked us before moving on to his next victim. Nobody paid any attention to me but I still felt important. Nick and I always put on a good show. We continued walking down the carpet, stopping to smile at photographers and answering questions for journalists.

Then we saw her. Missy Page, the blogger from hell. Missy, unlike the other fluff bloggers, liked to probe deep and get as much information as possible. Nick and I were always prepared for her type. But neither of us were prepared for what came out of her mouth.

"Nick! And Layla," she began, her voice as sweet as sugar and just as bad for you. "Any truth to the rumor that you two are expecting soon?" she asked, eyes bright and focused on us like daggers.

I looked up at Nick and he looked down at me. We tried to pass off our sudden discomfort with an intriguing smile, but it didn't quite work.

"Expecting what?" Nick joked.

"How far along are you Layla? A few months?" she probed. Is she for real? I put on my best affable smile.

"Missy Page you little devil you! Of course we're not expecting. We can't even decide what color to paint our living room!" Nick and I laughed together. Was she buying it?

"That's interesting! Especially after hearing rumors that you two have split up." Who the hell was she sleeping with? Where did she hear that?

Nick raised our entwined hands as a gesture. "Missy, as you can see, Layla and I are very much together and very happy. Maybe you should hire new spies." Good one Nick. You always could make up the best lies.

Missy smiled apologetically. Yeah, sure she was sorry! "One more question Nick. Are there wedding bells in the future for you two?"

"Missy, when Layla and I get engaged you'll be the first to know." We smiled at each other knowingly and moved on. That dirty bitch! I'm going to have to find out how she's getting her information.

We had made our way to the end of the carpet when Nick stopped me, turned me towards him and wrapped me up in his arms. He tenderly kissed me as flashbulbs went off all around us. He looked deep into my eyes and smiled. But it wasn't real. "Layla, sweetie, is there something you're not telling me?" His voice was cold. I brushed a strand of hair out of his face and smiled the same. "Honey, you have to have sex to make a baby. And the only one of us that's getting any is you."

Nick nodded his head and smiled lovingly at me. "Remind me to have that woman fired." And, hand-in-hand, body-to-body, we made our way in and took our seats.

The ceremony was over three hours later; three long and gruelling - yet somewhat entertaining - hours later. The awards were great, the music was great, the kiss-kiss on endless cheek after cheek was great. But it was enough.

The limo drove us in silence through the hectic Los Angeles freeway system into Santa Monica. It was late when we arrived but I wasn't feeling tired.

As I took off my jewellery I watched Nick stroll about the place. I'd almost forgotten how long it had been since he was last here. Must have been months ago.

"So how come you're not out at one of the after parties? You never miss those." What was he up to? He couldn't possibly want to spend the night. At least, not without going out and picking up a girl to bring back with him.

"Not interested." He walked around, looking at all of my homey knick knacks. A candle with sea shells embedded inside the wax; a throw pillow embroidered with flowers; our wedding portrait. He picked up the frame and stared at the photo intensely.

"Don't worry," I said. "I put that away whenever I have company." I walked to the mini bar and pulled a martini glass out from the cupboard. "Can I fix you a drink?"

"What are you having?" he asked, still staring at the picture.

"Martini. Dirty." I unscrewed a bottle of chilled vodka and poured its contents into a large shaker. "Want one?"

"Yeah. I think I could use one right about now." He put down the picture frame and took another look around. "Do you like living here?"

"Sometimes. It gets lonely though. Big house. Little 'ol me."

Nick came up to the counter of the bar and sat on a stool. God, he looked good in his tux. And I loved that he always wore his glasses whenever he got dressed up. He looks so... sexy. Christ, just look away, Layla.

"What?" he asked. I just shook my head as I shook up the drinks. But he was still looking at me. "Come on Layla Hudson. What’s going on inside that beautiful head of yours?" I looked up at him. ‘Beautiful head of yours?’ He only said that when... Sweet Jesus, he’s trying to have sex with me.

"What are you doing here Nick?" I poured the martini mix into two glasses and handed him one.

"A husband can’t spend time with his wife?"

"Not you. Not this wife."

He took a long sip from his glass, keeping his eyes on me. What was he thinking? That we’d get drunk and make love in every room in the house? Been there. Done that. I took a sip of my martini and looked away from him again. He could be so intense sometimes.

"How do you think she came up with that rumor?" he asked me.