The Romance of Nick and Layla (Parts 1-3) (33 page)

Where the hell are we?

I felt something hit me and I looked to find the offending object. It was Nick’s arm draped precariously over my naked chest. I tried moving my legs and found they were intertwined with Nick’s. We were both completely naked. And from the looks of things, had all but broken the bed.

I untangled myself from Nick and got up. I went straight to the windows, ignoring the spectacular view of what obviously appeared to be the Las Vegas strip, and shut the drapes closed. My hands froze. I stared up at them like they weren’t even mine. There, on my left ring-finger, was a ring. Not just any ring. A diamond set on a gold band. A wedding ring.

What the hell happened last night?

Chapter Forty-Four

After a long, hot shower I wrapped myself up in a hotel robe and picked up the phone, dialing the front desk.

"Hi, do you have a personal shopper service?"

Thirty very long minutes later a bell hop knocked on the door of our suite. "Thanks," I muttered as I grabbed the shopping bag and tipped him.

"It’ll be on your bill ma’am."

"I appreciate your discretion. Thank you so much." I closed the door and headed back to the bathroom. Thank God the Bellagio is a world class resort. With one phone call I was able to have someone actually buy me a fresh pair of clothes, as I was not about to put on the wrinkled Roberto Cavalli dress I found on the floor that I must have been wearing the night before.

The night before...

What the hell happened the night before? I took a seat on a couch opposite the bed and stared at Nick who was still unconscious with sleep. It was obvious we had had sex, and, from the look of the bed, a lot of it. But we couldn’t possibly.... have gotten married...? No, that was impossible. I mean, I would have never agreed to that.

But according to the tribal drums beating against the sides of my head, I really had no memory of the night before due in large part to an incredible amount of alcohol consumption.

How could I let myself do such a thing? There was only one other person that would know.

I got up and stared down at Nick. I cautiously picked up his left hand and immediately dropped it. There was no ring on his finger. The movement woke up him and his eyes fluttered open at me.

"No. Cuddle." He pulled me onto the bed and wrapped me up in his arms.

"Nick."

"Mmm."

"Nick, wake up."

"Just cuddle with me."

"Nick what happened last night?"

His eyes opened again and it was as if he just realized I was in the room. "What?"

"What happened last night?" I asked, much slower this time around.

He looked around as if the answer were written on the walls. "I don’t.... remember. Where are we?"

"The Bellagio Hotel. In Las Vegas."

"Fuck. I don’t even remember."

He doesn’t remember. I don’t remember. This was of no help whatsoever. "Did we.... do something?"

"Um.... I think I remember having multiple orgasms."

I rolled my eyes and gave him a shove with my hands. "Wake up!"

"What?! God Layla I’m trying to sleep here."

"Nick I have absolutely no idea how we got here! The last thing I remember was driving to dinner. Everything up until me waking up this morning is a complete blank."

"But... what about the multiple orgasm part?"

This was getting me absolutely nowhere. What day was it? Friday? I think? Oh my God. Oh my God. Did Nick and I get married last night? The ring on my finger was obviously that of wedding-quality. But Nick didn’t have a ring.

A marriage certificate! Yes! If we had gotten married last night we would have a marriage certificate! Okay, if I were a marriage certificate, where would I be?

How the fuck should I know?

For the next hour I searched every nook and cranny of the suite while Nick snored in the bed. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Uh! I fell to the floor in a fit and closed my eyes. This is not happening. No way in hell this was happening. What the hell happened to taking things naturally?

I was drunk. Obviously.

Drunk enough to have sex with Nick? Conceivable. Drunk enough to get married? Highly doubtful. Yes! I’ll call David Waterhouse and tell him.... Tell him what, exactly? That I don’t know if I married my ex-husband in a haze of drunkenness in Las Vegas, Nevada?

Well, it’s not like it’d shock him. I fished out my cell phone from my purse only to find that the battery was completely dead. Fuck! David’s number was on there. I had no clue what it was off the top of my head. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Okay, let’s think. Wedding ring on my finger. No marriage certificate. No memory of the night before. No ring on Nick’s finger. A sleeping Nick with no memory. And a hangover that would surely last for days.

The sound of the hotel phone ringing brought me out of my mental state. "Hello?" I answered.

"Good morning Mrs. Hudson. My name is Tammy, I’m the concierge and I’m calling as a courtesy to remind you that you have a 1pm flight. We’d be happy to make arrangements for a limo to take you to the airport upon your departure."

"That’d be great, thanks Tammy. Um, Tammy? May I ask you an odd question?"

"Of course ma’am."

And how the hell was I supposed to ask this odd question? "I don’t suppose you would happen to know... if.... I got married last night. Would you?"

"Um... no Mrs. Hudson, I don’t know."

"Great. Neither do I."

"Is there anything else I can help you with ma’am?"

"No. Thank you. Will you please call me when the limo has arrived?"

"Of course. Please don’t hesitate to call on our services if you find yourself in need of anything. Good day."

I don’t suppose she could help me find my memory. Wait a minute... Did she? Did she just call me ‘Mrs’ Hudson? Oh God I think my head is going to explode.

"Nick!" I called out. No answer. Good God he was still sleeping. And we had a flight to catch in an hour and a half. "Nick!"

"What?"

"For the love of God Nick wake up!"

"You’re not a morning person, are you?" he grumbled as he rolled over.

"Get dressed. We have a plane to catch."

"We do?"

"Yes! My house is in Santa Monica? California? It’s a whole state away from where we are right now!" Jesus.

"All right, all right. Just let me go to the bathroom first."

Nick emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed and looking very un-hungover.

"Layla you don’t look like you’re feeling well."

You have no idea. "That’s because I’m hungover"

"Aww baby." He put a hand on the side of my face. "Want me to see if I can find you some aspirin?"

"Yes please."

"Okay. Just sit here. I’ll be right back."

As Nick left I found myself wanting to vomit. How could I have completely lost control of all my inhibitions in one night? If Nick and I got married...

Should I tell him?

No, don’t be stupid Layla.

I’ll just have to figure things out on my own and if it turns out we’re not married, then Nick never needs to know.

And if it turns out we are married? I can’t not tell him that. He’d be seriously pissed at me. Oh God. Throbbing. There’s throbbing in my head. Dear Lord please tell me what to do!

I need a plan. As soon as we get back to California I’ll call David Waterhouse and ask him to check into the matter of a potential Las Vegas wedding fiasco.

"Here, I got you some coffee."

I nearly jumped from the seat. "God you scared me."

"Why are you so jumpy? You’re not having regrets about last night, are you?"

"Last night? Regrets?"

"About us making love?"

Does it bruise a man’s ego when you tell him you don’t remember making love to him? "Nick..."

"Okay, okay. But if you want to talk..."

I took a sip of the coffee. What am I going to do?

"Look, Layla, I know you wanted to take things slow. And that you probably had no real intentions of letting things go as far as they did." You have no idea. "But can we please just accept the fact that it happened? I mean, there was obviously some part of us that really wanted to." I could be married to this man. Again. "And I don’t regret it. I wish I could remember it but I don’t regret it." Oh, but he remembers having multiple orgasms? "But it does sort of change things for us."

Did we even use protection? Oh God. I think I’m going to throw up.

"Layla?"

"Nick, please don’t take this the wrong way but could you stop talking?"

"Sure. Here, we’ll just lay down until they call us when the car arrives."

"Thank you." Nick wrapped me in his arms as we lay on the bed. I soon feel asleep but felt like I had only closed my eyes for a minute when Nick was waking me up.

"The car is here. I put your dress and shoes in a shopping bag."

"Oh thanks. I can’t wait to be home."

"I’m sure you’re anxious to see Tyler."

"Very much."

"Do you want me to carry your stuff for you?"

"Thanks."

The afternoon dragged by and I felt like it had been months since I’d been home, rather than just one night. But finally we did arrive home and after bathing Tyler and putting him down for a nap, I felt like taking one myself. But not before taking care of some business.

I locked myself in the bathroom, plugged my phone into it’s charger and immediately dialed my lawyer.

"David Waterhouse," he answered.

"David, it’s Layla Garrett."

"Layla. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day!" Uh oh.

"You have?"

"I have been fielding calls left and right about you and Nick and Las Vegas for hours now. I must have left you at least five messages." WHAT?

"My battery was dead. This is the first call I’ve been able to make. Why have people been calling? And how did they know I was in Las Vegas?"

"It’s all over the news, the papers, blogs."

And there it was again. The overwhelming feeling like I just wanted to throw up. "Oh my God."

"Layla, at the risk of sounding unprofessional please tell me you did not get married in Las Vegas last night."

This is a nightmare. Any minute now I’m going to wake up and..... Fuck. "I don’t know. And that’s the truth. Honestly, David, I woke up with a wedding ring and no memory of last night. But the weird thing is, Nick doesn’t have a ring on him and I searched up and down for a marriage certificate and could not find one. I’m just as clueless as you. No offense."

"Okay, I will put in some calls and find out if you did, in fact, get married. Once we know the truth we’ll find a way to straighten everything out, no matter what the truth is."

"I just have no idea how I could have let myself go all in one night. If only I could remember! All I know is that I drank a lot of alcohol."

"Yes, that much is clear from these pictures."

"There are pictures?!"

"In every tabloid! Entertainment Tonight called me for information. Them and every other news program. We haven’t been able to get any work done here because of all the calls. But just so you know, we’re keeping very tight-lipped about everything we know, which is very little, and even from our own interns."

"This is an absolute nightmare."

"Layla, may I speak freely?"

"Of course, please."

"I’ve been your lawyer for a long time now and I’d like to think that we’re on friendly enough terms for me to be as honest with you as I can."

"Sure."

"You need to keep a low profile. Once I find out what the situation is on your marital status we’re going to have to release a press statement. Otherwise no one will leave you alone. If you are married we can look into getting it annulled. You said you had been drinking and you cannot sign a marriage certificate if you’re under the influence of alcohol. Your capacity to make wise and sound decisions would have been compromised. So we at least have a case there. Unless you decide that you want to stay married then there’s the issue of prenuptial agreements and so on. Have you talked to Nick about all this?"

"No."

"No?"

"He doesn’t remember anything! Do you think I’m about to say, ‘oh by the way we may or may not have gotten married last night?’ So I didn’t say anything."

"Layla! If people have been trying to get a hold of me then don’t you think that the same people are also trying to get a hold of Nick and his managers and lawyers and whatnot?"

Shit. "I didn’t even think about that."

"There is no way he cannot know about this by now. And if he finds out that you knew and didn’t say anything..."

"Let me handle Nick."

"Okay. I will make calls to Vegas right now and as soon as I find out any information I will call you. Until I’ve done that, don’t leave the house. And don’t talk to anyone but me. Understand?"

"Yes."

"All right. I’ll be in touch."

"Thank you, David." I hung up and fought the urge to throw the phone against the wall. Get a grip, Layla. If you think that was hard, wait until you have to face Nick.

I left the bathroom and re-plugged the phone into the bedroom. When I turned for the doorway I nearly jumped a foot in the air. There was Nick, his cell phone in hand, giving me a very dark, very angry look.

"You scared me."

"Is there something you’d like to tell me?"

Not really. "I suppose you just spoke with your handlers?"

"Oh, the 23 voicemails on my phone from my managers, lawyers, journalists, band mates and my mother was enough. I haven’t even called anyone back yet. I thought, oh, let me ask my wife. That is, if we’re even married."

"Nick..."

"How long did you know we might have gotten married last night?"

"Since I woke up."

"And when were you going to say something?"

"Up until five minutes ago..... not really ever."

"And what changed your mind five minutes ago?"

"I called my lawyer so he could find out if it was true or not and he had been trying to get a hold of me all day. Apparently the press has been calling him all day long and he had no idea what was going on, short of the pictures in the tabloids."