The Romance of Nick and Layla (Parts 1-3) (9 page)

“What will you do if you are the father if the child?” shouted another. I looked up and took a deep breath. This was the question I had been waiting the answer to. He couldn’t dodge the press like he could dodge me.

“If the paternity test concludes that I am in fact the father of the baby, then I will take the proper and appropriate steps to accepting responsibility. I can’t say for certain what my exact actions will be, but I am prepared to accept that responsibility. If we get to that, I will consult with my lawyer and make sure that the child is provided for, financially and otherwise. As for the mother... I have no desire to pursue a relationship outside of parental responsibility with her. I’m married and, though I sound like a hypocrite, I won’t leave my wife.”

“If you are the father will you contest for custody?”

“Like I said, nothing has been confirmed yet. But if we were to get to that point, I would consult with Layla first and foremost.”

“Layla, how do you feel about Nick’s actions?” I looked up and suddenly the whole world was staring at me. I looked to Nick for help. I had no clue what to do. This wasn’t my press conference. It was Nick’s. And honestly, I didn’t think the press would involve me as much as they just had. He motioned for me to come up to the podium. And as much as I wanted to run out of the room and straight to the car, I felt my feet carrying me in a different direction. Towards Nick.

He intertwined his fingers in mine and held tight as I stood in front of the microphones and the press. “How would you feel? I’m hurt, I’m upset, I’m angry. I feel betrayed. But like Nick said, he’s only human. And he’s apologized.”

“Do you forgive him?”

I squeezed Nick’s hand so tight I could feel my blood stop. “In time I will. Right now I’m just dealing.”

“Do you two have plans to have children of your own?”

I looked at Nick. Nick looked at me. He had that dreadful look in his eyes. Probably because of what I had said before. About leaving him. About the separation. I looked back to the journalist and shrugged. “We haven’t discussed it. But I wouldn’t rule it out for the future. We’re young. We can think about it in another five or ten years. Or whenever we want.”

The questions kept on coming for another twenty minutes. And while few of them were directed at me, I still stood at Nick’s side, my hand in his.

It seemed like hours later by the time we were making the drive back to Santa Monica. Traffic on the 405 was at a standstill, which gave us time. Time to say absolutely nothing. After ten minutes I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. And I needed a question answered. Right away.

“Why did you do it?”

Nick turned and looked at me from behind the wheel. “Why did I do what?”

“You just put your career on the line. You put yourself in a position where you could fall. Hard. You didn’t have to tell them we’re married.”

“Yes I did.”

“Why?” I asked, turning so that I was facing him.

“I told you.”

“No you didn’t!” Goddamn it. Just start talking! Don’t be cryptic-message-man!

“I told you, Layla, that I would give it up for you. I don’t want to live in lies anymore. If people can’t accept me as a musician because I’m not always a good man, then that’s their problem, not mine. My priority is you and our marriage. The rest is secondary.”

I just looked at him. I had no thoughts whatsoever. No emotion. Just nothing.

As he said he would, Nick packed up his belongings that night when we got home. I couldn’t stand watching him pack so I locked myself in the den, losing myself in movies for hours on end. Okay, so I lied. I do hide occasionally.

It was late into the night when I finally left my secluded space and headed to bed. Nick was already tucked in, seemingly asleep. I changed into a tank top and drawstring pants and unclipped my hair, letting it fall down against my back. I crawled into the bed next to Nick and rested my cheek on his shoulder, my face nuzzled in his neck. I crossed an arm in a V shape over his chest so that my palm was against his cheek.

“I thought you were avoiding me?” he whispered into the dark.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” I absently ran my thumb across Nick’s cheek. He moved his arm under and around my body so that he was hugging me. I turned into him and felt myself melting into him as he turned to face me, embracing my wholly in his arms. Our legs intertwined and his head rested just next to mine on the pillow.

And then I couldn’t control myself any longer. I had wanted so badly to just break down and cry and now there was nothing holding me back. So, I cried myself to sleep.

Chapter Eleven

I was secretly hoping that by the time I woke up I would sit up only to realize that I was by myself; that Nick had slipped out of the house. And I hoped this for two reasons.

One. We would avoid any uncomfortable situations. And two, my eyelids were swollen to the size of walnuts. Damn I hate crying. And now Nick would see.

But when I slowly came to from my deep slumber I realized that I was still sleeping on top of Nick, with his arms hugging me tight.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It’s never like this in the movies. She wakes up and he’s gone. Never confrontation. Shit. We were about to have major confrontation.

Or... I could leave.

And then the phone rang. Of course. Maybe I could just let it ring?

No. Nick stirred beneath me and I knew I should get it. So I leaned over and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

" May I please speak to Nick?"

I looked at the clock. Nine. "May I ask who is calling?"

"Vanessa Carrington." Who?

I cleared my throat. "One minute please." I looked down at Nick and quickly tried to think of a way to wake him. Nick was a deep sleeper. It would take an earthquake, a flood, or an orgasm to wake him up. Hell, I wasn’t a miracle worker.

Oh. But he looks so peaceful. And really, if I wake up him now, then he’ll know that I was here and that I ran away.

"He’s asleep in bed right now. May I take a message?"

"Is this Layla?"

My forehead crinkled. "Yes."

"Oh gosh, I’m sorry. God, how embarrassing."

Did I miss something? "What do you mean?"

"We’ve met before."

"We have?"

"Yes. And I saw you on television with Nick."

"Okay?" Where was she going with this?

"You kicked me out of Nick’s house.”

My face went rigid. My back suddenly pained me. Was this who I thought it was? "I remember."

"I’m sorry. I didn’t know that Nick was married until the press conference. And when I saw you two together... God. That whole situation that morning must have been so uncomfortable."

No shit. "Can I ask you a question, Vanessa?"

"Um, sure." She sounded shy all of a sudden. Like she was thinking that she should maybe hang up the phone.

"Are you the girl that’s claiming to be pregnant?"

"No." God, what a relief. "I’m not claiming anything. I am pregnant."

My heart stopped beating. So this was the girl that Nick knocked up. And she’s on the phone. And I’m still talking to her. "I see."

"I honestly didn’t know he was married. He never said anything."

"Why would he?" She didn’t answer my question. I just rolled my eyes. "Look..." I hesitated. I didn’t really know what to say. "I know you’re in a tough spot, but what are you expecting? Do you think Nick is going to marry you and you’ll live happily ever after?"

"No." Sure you didn’t, sweetie.

"Then what do you want? You want money?"

"No, I don’t want money."

"Then what is it? Honestly? Because since you know Nick and I are married now you wouldn’t have called if you thought I would answer the phone. Or did you?"

"Maybe I should just have my lawyer handle this."

"You know what Vanessa?" I knew what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t say it. Because suddenly I felt for this girl. She didn’t know. How could she? We kept it a secret. She just thought a pop star was loving her. I couldn’t hate her for it. She’s just as normal as me.

But this is my husband.

And this is their child.

I gave in. "Give me a minute." I set the phone down next to the clock, got up off of Nick and walked to the bathroom. I walked out with a glass full of ice cold water. And, with a quick arm, I doused the freezing liquid all over Nick’s peaceful face.

He woke with a violent start, sitting up straight and shaking his head. "What the fuck?"

Well, it wasn’t a flood. But it worked.

"You have a phone call." I pointed to the receiver and looked away.

"Who is it?" he asked.

I couldn’t look at him. Instead I picked up my robe from a nearby chair and wrapped it around my body. "Someone you need to talk to."

And I walked away.

It was a least a good thirty minutes before Nick walked into the breakfast nook. I glanced up at him from the morning newspaper. He was still slightly damp. Like a cat that fell in a bathtub.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing." I quickly straightened my face and went back to my paper, feigning disinterest.

"So I take it you know who that was?"

"Yes. That’s why I gave you the phone."

"Layla, I have to admit that I’m surprised."

"Why? You needed to talk to her. You two have a lot of things to work out."

"I know. But there’s a problem."

You mean a problem other than the fact that you’ve managed to recreate yourself in another human being?

"Her doctor has strongly recommended not doing the paternity test until after the first trimester."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "How long is that going to take?"

"Another two months. Give or take."

I threw my paper down on the table and sighed. "Two months?"

"Yeah." He sat down at the table next to me and fidgeted with his fingers. "But there’s more."

There’s always more. "God Nick. Please don’t tell me she’s underage." That was the last thing we needed. Nick Hudson, statutory raper.

"Not quite." Oh Jesus. Quite? "She’s of age. But... Fuck." He expelled a huge breath and ran his fingers through his hair. I could suddenly see the bags under his eyes. And the brown, tired looking skin under his eyelashes. "Apparently, it was her..."

"It was her what?" I asked, trying to get the damn sentence out of his mouth.

Nick looked at me and finally became serious. "She was a virgin."

Chapter Twelve

When I was a child, maybe five or six years old, I was playing at the deep end of our swimming pool and I fell in. I didn’t know how to swim so once I was emerged in the water, I flailed my arms and legs about the place, desperately trying to somehow swim to the surface and take a breath of air. But I was being pulled down deeper under the surface, far down into the water. I was helpless. Images of the world around me became blue and distorted, like an unseen hand disturbing the fabric of air. I remembered desperately wanting to rise to the top. And I remembered the horrible thoughts of not making it, of slowly sinking to the bottom, of letting water fill my lungs, and of dying.

I’d gladly go through that again. It would be better than how I was feeling right at this moment. This was worse than drowning; worse than dying. This was love. The most heart wrenching, death inducing love I had ever felt.

I wished I were dead.

These are the facts: Nick cheated on me. Big surprise. The girl is pregnant. And she was a virgin. Which could only mean one thing. There was no way Nick couldn’t be the father. The tears slowly dropped from my eyes as I slid down to the cool floor of the bathroom.

Another fact: Nick’s leaving. Because I kicked him out. And the biggest fact of them all? I was even more in love with Nick than I can ever remember.

Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why do I let him hurt me and then just fall deeper and deeper in love with him? Why haven’t I learned my lesson? Why don’t we just walk away and let inevitability play out naturally?

I know why.

Because I need him. Bad.

It wasn’t his acts of cheating specifically that turned me off. It was that I always went back to him after he did. After he had been inside another woman, he was inside of me. Loving me. Touching me. Moaning my name. Kissing my skin.

The door opened. And this must have been it. The goodbye.

My head lifted up. And despite myself another tear streaked down my cheek. As if I hadn't been crying enough over him. More tears to add to the pile. I had to have made an ocean by now.

He was quick. I'll give him that. He was kneeling beside me on that cold tile floor, not saying a word. Just a glance. Then a stare. I think he almost half expected me to say something. As if I had anything more to say. What hadn't already been said?

Those eyes of his stared straight into mine before he reached over and tentatively brushed away that stupid tear. That same hand traveled downwards until it reached my own fingers.

"Where's the ring?" His fingers tightened around my own, clutching as he examined my now bare ring finger. "Layla..."

I smiled. "I’m giving it back."

"A Dear John leaving? Always thought you were more creative than that."

"A virgin? Always thought you could do better than that. Then again you always were good at popping those cherries, weren't you Nick?"

"Didn't hear you complaining when you moaned my name for the first time, Layla."

"Well it was the famous Nick Hudson inside of me..."

"Layla just stop it."

"No, Nick, you stop."

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?"

"I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry that I wasn't enough for you. I'm sorry that I thought I could be. I'm sorry that I wanted to be. I'll never be enough."

"That's bullshit! I love you Layla. I always have. I didn't mean to hurt you. I never... What do I have to do to you or for you that will finally prove to you that I love you Layla?"

I ran my fingers up his neck and gently held his head in place, holding his ears, pulling him close. "Is that what you were doing when you were making love to those other girls? You were loving me? When you put your tongue in their mouths and lightly touched their innocent skin?" I tilted my head to the side and looked him into him deeply. "Want to know what I was doing while you were getting off on all your virgin groupies? I was home, touching myself," I picked up his hands and placed them on my hips. "And wishing it were your hands on my skin. But never once did I imagine that your hands would have been on someone else's. So you tell me Nick... Is that how deep your love is? Your never ending supply of pop star sperm riding into someone else's body?"