The Romance of Nick and Layla (Parts 1-3) (6 page)

"Miss Garrett?" I looked up at the nurse in the doorway. "Your boyfriend is here to pick you up."

I nodded my head and sat quietly as I was wheeled out of the emergency room and into the patient check-out area. There was Nick, looking jet-lagged as all hell, looking at me.

"Doctor Hamilton has prescribed her some mild pain pills which the pharmacy will guide you on how and when to administer them. If further swelling occurs or the stitches come undone, come back in."

"Thank you," he smiled kindly to the attendant. Nick looked down at my bandaged feet and frowned. "I gotta tell you Layla. There’s nothing I love more than getting a phone call on an airplane from the Santa Monica emergency room asking me to come pick you up."

I didn’t say anything. I just looked at him. And he just nodded his head. He signed some release forms and took hold of my wheelchair, guiding me out of the hospital and out into the crisp afternoon air. A male nurse followed us. I guess it was to make sure we didn’t steal the damn wheelchair. Take it. I don’t want it.

Nick rolled me out to his SUV and stopped at the passenger’s side door. He unlocked it, opened it up and, without me protesting, picked me up and carefully placed me inside the car. He leaned over me to buckle me in. He rolled the chair back to the nurse and got behind the wheel.

"Mind telling me how on earth you managed to get pieces of glass embedded into your feet?" We were heading back home, to my home, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep quiet for long.

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah. It matters."

"I walked on broken glass."

"And how did the glass get broken in the first place?"

"I threw it against the kitchen wall."

Nick drew in a sharp breath and out of the corner of my eye I could see him shaking his head. "And why did you do that?"

"Because I could."

"Layla..." I could feel him looking at me.

"I was upset Nick."

"Because of Missy and all that trash she wrote about you on her stupid, insignificant blog?"

"That bitch is really starting to piss me off."

"Tell me about it."

"She will get what’s coming to her. You just stay away from her, Annie Lennox."

We pulled into the driveway of the house and parked the car. Nick got out and walked around, opening my door and started to unbuckle me.

"Don’t. I can do it on my own," I protested.

"Just shut up and let me help you. You can’t walk on your own."

"I said don’t touch me, Nick." I gave him a warning look and he backed off. He watched as I lowered myself to the ground. It hurt like a bitch but I wasn’t about to let him carry me over our tarnished threshold. I took big steps towards the front door, trying to remain strong and self-sufficient. But I could feel the sensation of something warm and sticky gathering around my toes and I knew that I was bleeding. I felt Nick catch me as I fell off my feet. He was a lot stronger than I realized.

"I got you. Come on. I’ll take you up to bed and then I’ll get you some ice for your feet."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Fine. Are you hands clean?"

"Are my hands clean?" he reiterated, clearly confused.

Damn I hate it when people answer a question with a question. "Who knows who you got busy with on the plane."

"Oh for Christ sake Layla! I don’t even know why I bother explaining myself to you in the first place. You never believe me anyway."

"I don’t want to fight with you Nick! Now either carry me to my bed or drop me on my ass and let me crawl in the house myself."

"Fine."

Fortunately it was a soft bed of grass, and not the rock hard concrete, that met my ass as he dropped me.

Chapter Seven

"Layla, have you ever thought that maybe Nick isn’t the only one creating the rift in your relationship?"

Oh great, now my own therapist is turning against me. What the hell am I paying you for anyway? If I wanted to feel bad I’d go home and spend time with Nick.

"Doctor Brown do you actually listen to me or are you just doodling on that legal pad?"

"Both." At least she had a sense of humor.

"Look. Nick cheated on me. Several times over. He doesn’t even deny it!"

"That’s right. He’s never denied cheating on you. So if he tells you the truth about his unfaithfulness, why is it so hard to believe that he’s not telling you the truth about everything else?"

"Because he’s not telling the truth."

"But you don’t know that."

"Yes I do."

"No. You never give him the chance to believe him. You don’t listen to his side of the story; you just automatically assume he’s lying and you cut him off at that."

"I don’t understand. I thought you’re supposed to be on my side?" I must have sounded as petulant as I felt.

"No, my job is to remain objective in order to help you." Well fine job you’re doing at that! You’re on Nick’s side! How objective is that? "And with that said, how did it go with Nick? With your assignment?"

I’d almost forgotten about it completely. "You mean to be the victor, not the victim?"

"Yes."

"Well, we definitely broke some new ground. And furniture."

"Furniture?"

"Dining table." The memory was still fresh.

"How did you break it?"

"We got a bit rough with the sex." It occurred to me then that some people might be ashamed of their habits, or at the very least a bit more discreet with the details. I was not one of those people.

"Layla?" her tone was borderline admonishing.

"What? You told me to be the victor! I got him all hot and bothered and walked away. I was the victor. And then he threw me on the table and we broke it."

"That’s not what I told you to do, Layla. Our time is almost up for now but I’d like you to do something for me."

Great. "What’s that?"

"For your next appointment, if you’re willing, I want Nick to join us. I want to hear what he has to say about this situation."

Was she crazy?! "I don’t think so."

"You want to save your marriage, don’t you?"

Doctor Brown’s words kept looping through my mind like a broken record. They made me nervous. And when I get nervous I do two things. I bake. And I smoke. The kitchen was a mess with mixing bowls and pans; flour powdered mixing spoons, and an ashtray brimming with cigarette butts on the counter. During the last three hours I had mixed and baked three loaves of bread, three dozen chocolate cookies and I was just putting a large batch of meringue cookies in the oven as Nick entered.

"Mmm. Nicotine bread. Smells good."

"Where’ve you been?" I asked nonchalantly. It didn’t really matter to me that much.

"Recording studio. What’s all this for?"

I shrugged. "Felt like it. Get much work done?"

Nick plucked a piece of bread from a fresh loaf and popped it in his mouth. "Some. This is good. You made this?"

"Yep. From scratch."

"Are you okay?"

"I’m fine. Are you okay?"

"Peachy keen. So I take it you’ve forgotten?"

I looked up at Nick after I lit the millionth cigarette of the afternoon. "Forgotten what?"

"Movie premiere. Tonight. Downtown."

"Oh." Crap, I had forgotten. I sighed and leaned against the counter. "Why don’t you go without me? I’m not really feeling too great."

Nick rubbed my back soothingly, running circles across my shoulders and down my spine. "Not feeling great physically or emotionally?"

"Both."

"Then I’ll stay here with you."

"Nick you don’t have to. Go and have a good time without me."

"I don’t want to have a good time without you. I want to have a good time with you."

"I don’t know how much fun I’d be."

"I have an idea." Nick turned me around in his arms and held my face in his hands. I looked away from him but he moved his head so that I couldn’t look anywhere but in his eyes. "Why don’t you go and take a nice hot shower while I cook us up some dinner and then we’ll watch DVDs on the couch and just hang out."

"You don’t know how to cook."

"No. I don’t know how to cook. But I do know how to dial and order delivery."

I searched Nick’s eyes for the lies. I couldn’t help it. I was always assuming that he was lying or bullshitting me. Maybe I was wrong the whole marriage? Could Doctor Brown really be right? Was I the one who was never giving Nick a chance to be truthful? Was I not letting myself believe him? And if so, why? Was I scared? What would I be afraid of?

But I knew. Deep in my heart I was always afraid that one day he’d wake up and realize he’d made a huge mistake in marrying me. That he would realize he didn’t really love me.

"What’s going on in that head of yours, Layla Hudson? I know you’re thinking of something intense."

"How do you know?" I asked, wondering how he could read me so well.

"I just do."

"I’m just messed up Nick. I’m all fucked up."

"Hey, that’s my wife you’re talking about." I couldn’t help but smile. I closed my eyes and breathed him in deeply. I loved the scent of his cologne. That always got me. But my brain was still on overtime.

"I feel drained."

"How so?" he asked, smoothing strands of hair behind my ears. I opened my eyes and looked up at him sadly.

"I don’t know," I lied. I was such a hypocrite. That’s what my problem was. It wasn’t Nick who was the liar in our relationship. It was me. I lied myself into believing we had something real. Lied myself into believing I was what he needed. "I just feel..." but I couldn’t get the words out without crying. I brushed my hands over my eyes and through my hair, sniffling back the sobs I could feel coming on.

"Hey. Whatever you’re feeling just let go of it. Nothing is worth you crying over it."

You know, sometimes he just says exactly what I need to hear.

"Is there anything I can do? Can I help you in any way?"

"Nick. Just... do you love me?"

"You know I love you."

I shook my head and felt more tears fall down my face. "But I’m so awful. I’m such a horrible person Nick. The way I never have faith in you. How I always think you’re fucking around with me. Or fucking someone else behind my back."

Nick looked down and avoided my gaze. "I know. I’m... I don’t know Layla."

"Why did you do it? Please tell me what it was that made you think you had to get your love somewhere else. With someone else."

"I was being selfish. You weren’t around and I needed someone to be there for me physically. And I couldn’t call you. I couldn’t bear talking to you because everything was just so intense."

"But you were cheating before I moved. That’s why I left. Why did you do it then?"

"I felt like we were falling apart. We stopped talking and whenever we did talk we fought."

"But we never did those things before we were married."

"I know. And, though I hate to say it Layla, I think we got married too young. Too quick. It just threw me off, you know?"

"And now?"

"Now? Now I still think we married too young. But I like knowing that I have you by my side. Even when we fight and get crazy. I love knowing that at the end of the day you’re still here for me. And I’m here for you."

"How can you possibly love me after everything I’ve said and done?"

"Because it reassures me that you love me. You wouldn't be so worried about me if you didn’t love me at least in the smallest measurement. Right?"

All this time I wanted honesty and it turns out I can’t really handle it. "I can’t take this any longer, Nick."

"Can’t take what?"

"This." I removed his hands from my body and put them at his sides. "I want you to divorce me."

I watched as his face dropped; watched as his eyes clouded. They changed from bright blue to stone blue in a heartbeat. "No."

"Yes. Divorce me."

"I won’t."

"Please."

"No!" he said with more force.

"Then you leave me with no choice." I stepped away from him, walking towards the phone on the coffee table. I punched in the digits I had long ago memorized and waited patiently.

"Goldsmith, Waterhouse and Wesserbury, Attorneys at Law. How may I direct your call?"

"David Waterhouse, please."

"Whom may I ask is calling?"

"Layla Hudson." I felt the phone being yanked from my grip and watched in pain as Nick clicked off the phone and threw it across the room.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I’m calling my lawyer." I tried to retrieve the phone but Nick was too quick and caught my arm.

"I told you I don’t want a divorce!"

"I do."

"Why?!" he yelled. It pained me to see how heartbroken he looked, but I couldn’t think about that. He would get over it. I know he would.

"We shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place, Nick. You said it yourself."

"No, I said we married too young and too quick. Don’t you listen to anything I say?"

"Nick let go of me!"

"Don’t walk away from me Layla!"

"I have to. I have to walk away."

"No you don’t!" he yelled.

"Yes I do!" I yelled back. "I have to walk away from you. From us."

"Give me one good reason why."

I didn’t have to think long. I already had my reason. "Because you’re killing me. Loving you is slowly draining me of my life. I can’t go two minutes without thinking about you Nick. Thinking about why you love me when I know you shouldn’t; About how no one should be allowed to be filled with love like I am."

"Those are reasons for you to stay, not to leave."

"Let go of me," I cried.

"No."

"Let go of me Nick!" I shouted, trying to push him away from me. But he just held on tighter. "Stop loving me! Just stop and let go of me!" I pushed him away as hard as I could, only I was the one that fell. I fell to the ground and it only made me cry more. I couldn’t stand this any longer. He needed to be free from me. But instead he dropped his knees the ground, straddling me.

"I can’t let you go Layla." He cupped my face in his hands and made me look into his eyes. I could barely see through my own tears, but I could see that he was near tears himself.