The Romance of Nick and Layla (Parts 1-3) (22 page)

I couldn’t find my voice to say anything. And apparently neither could Nick. We just stood there, looking at each other. No crowd around us. Just me and him.

"Layla, are you sure you can’t stay an extra day? According to the Post there’s a..." but Johnny stopped short when he saw Nick. "Oh. Hey Nick. Um, you know what? I think I’m gonna go downstairs and terrorize some fans."

I watched as Johnny slipped past Nick and ran down the hall. Part of me wanted to follow him. But instead I opened the door wider and made my way back into the room. Nick shut the door behind him and sat down next to me on the couch.

"You’re leaving?" he finally spoke.

"Would there be any point in staying?"

"I guess not."

"So what are you doing here, Nick?"

"You said you wanted to talk."

"I did."

"And now?"

"Nick I don’t want to fight."

"Neither do I, Lay."

"Well that’s the first thing we’ve agreed on in a long time."

"So how are you? Health wise? Baby’s good?"

"Yep. Strong and healthy."

"Good."

"In a few more weeks they’ll be able to determine the sex of the baby."

"Really?" His voice was so small and meek, not like the celebrity pop star others knew of him, but as the Nick I’d grown accustomed to in the privacy of our own little world.

"But I don’t want to know."

"Well I guess that’s your choice."

There was a very long, very uncomfortable silence that passed. We both just stared off ahead of us, not really looking at anything in particular.

"Did you write that song, Nick?" I breathed out. I had been dying to know the answer.

"Yeah. Right after... after you left me."

"Which time?"

"The second time. After New York."

"Oh."

"I didn’t intend on using it on the album. It was more therapy for me than an actual song I was going to use, but it felt right in the end so..."

"It was beautiful," I interrupted him, finally turning to look at him. "Everything about it was beautiful Nick. And your performance... It was perfect. You deserved that standing ovation."

"Well it will probably be my last."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I’m quitting."

My face contorted into an incredulous gaze. "Quitting? Quitting what?"

"I’m quitting music."

I found myself sitting up on my legs. I grabbed his face in my hands and made him look at me. "Why?"

"Because I want to." He looked so somber, so quiet.

"You can’t quit music. You ARE music, Nick. You have been all your life and you always will be."

"You know, Layla, there was a time when I thought I would be doing this forever. But then I started thinking about all the other things in life I would be missing out on; all the things I lost because of it."

"But look how much you’ve gained! You can’t just quit."

"What have I gained Layla? I’m not even 25 years old yet and I’m about to be a divorced man. And in a few months I’m going to be a father. My priorities have changed. I want to live a normal life now. How can I be a good man, a good father when I’m barely home? And when I am home I’m tired. It’s time for me to just live."

"Who says you can’t be a good father and a singer at the same time?"

"I do. I couldn’t cut it as both a husband and a singer. How can I expect to do a good job with a kid at the same time?"

My hands dropped from his face and found his hands. I held them tight. "We both did the best we could despite how fucked up we are."

He just shook his head. "No. I’ve been lying to you from the moment we said ‘I do.’"

"But you’ve already apologized for that Nick."

"I didn’t tell you everything, Layla. I used you. And abused your love. I took it for granted and... Layla I couldn’t count the amount of times I was unfaithful to you. And I know that there’s nothing I can do or say that will ever be enough to apologize for everything I’ve done."

Anger and betrayal started to bubble in me. "I’d always suspected there was more you weren’t telling me. Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Because I didn’t want to lose you. And after I did lose you I realized there would be no point in telling you."

"Jesus, Nick."

"Layla, I’d apologize a hundred times if I thought it would make a difference. But I know it won’t."

I should have been mad. Hell, I should have been fuming. But for the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, Nick was really laying it all out on the table. It’s what I had wanted from him all along; to just be honest with me. But...

The truth hurts.

"So there it is. And you have every right to be pissed at me, Lay. I would be too. But that’s just it. It’s all out. I don’t have anything left to tell you because you know it all now. I’m not proud of myself. And I know that I’ve hurt you in ways I never intended on. You said you came here to ask me to come home with you. And I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to go with you. Yet... I’m going to leave it up to you. I want to change Layla. I want to be the man that you thought you married. So if you’ll just give me the chance... I’ll give everything up for you. I’ll make you proud to be my wife. And I’ll be the kind of father every child deserves."

Yes, the truth hurts. But sometimes we need that pain to keep us in check, to keep us in the realms of reality. And that’s where I found myself: reality. And thinking back on the last three years I only had one question to ask myself: Was it worth it?

The first two years were wonderful. Nick had his life while I had mine. And when we came together it was like the world was perfect, life was perfect and we were perfect. Until we got married. That’s when it started falling apart.

When you marry someone, the game changes. It’s no longer my life and his life, suddenly it’s our life. You can’t just go and do whatever you want for however long you want; you have to do it together. That’s where the problems started. And after a while we were tired of being together. We needed our space. Nick found his in other women; I found mine in worrying about Nick. It wasn’t healthy. So we should just face it: We were better off not married.

Yes, Nick confessed. Finally. But sometimes a confession doesn’t save you. Sometimes you have to pay for your mistakes. Sometimes forgiveness isn’t enough to save you. We both had to learn that lesson. And after the three years we’d just been through, looking back on it all there was still that lingering question: Is it all worth it?

....

No.

That night Nick did come home with me. And four weeks later our divorce was finalized. Mrs. Nick Hudson no longer existed. Now I was just Layla Garrett.

I decided not to sell the house after all. Nick moved into the spare bedroom. He helped build a nursery in my bedroom. And that’s how we lived our life. Together. But apart.

Nick did quit his music career, despite how much I protested. I thought for sure that without music in his life he would crumble, but instead he rose to the challenge. In place of performing every night in a different venue he sang to the sick children at the hospital. Instead of recording in a studio he volunteered at the local junior high school, offering his knowledge of music to the young choir kids.

As for me, I was offered a freelance writing position with a fashion magazine, writing about the lifestyles of the rich and the famous. I guess being married to a pop star was all the experience required for such a job. I spent my days at home, relaxing while working on my latest piece and getting ready for the baby.

We weren’t married anymore and we weren’t dating. We came and went as we pleased and lived our separate lives. But, at the end of the day, we’d sit down to dinner, talk and laugh and live like we used to. We’d retire to our own bedrooms at night and wake up the next morning ready to live our lives.

Nick wore his wedding band on his right hand following the divorce. He claimed he couldn’t stop wearing it because it reminded him of me, something he’d always want to think about. I kept my wedding ring in its black velvet box in the drawer next to my bed. Every once in a while I’d take it out and just stare at it. Funny how a ring is the universal symbol of marriage. A circle that never ends, just keeps on going. In many ways Nick and I were like that ring; our marriage didn’t last, but our relationship did. We’d always be together, no matter what happened.

I still think back on what Johnny said that last night in New York. Sometimes people, no matter how in love they are, just aren’t meant to be. With me and Nick... we would never know.

However our lives might change - one of us might eventually remarry and live a new life - one thing would always link us together as one forever. Our child.

Maybe it wasn’t fair to the world; two people as messed up as Nick and I producing a child that would have the history of his or her parents to deal with. But at the end of the day, when I’d crawl in my bed under the sheets and think about my ex-husband and the one true love of my life sleeping in the bed next door, one shining truth remained clear to me....

Maybe it was meant to be this way all along.

But who knew what the future would hold for me and Nick? I didn’t. He didn’t.

I can’t lie... A part of my heart will always yearn for him. And I definitely missed his strong arms around me at night in bed.

But like I said.... Maybe it was meant to be this way all along.

There was only one way to know, and that was to take things one day at a time.

Our story wasn’t over yet.

White Flag

There’s no denying that I messed up. But isn’t redemption part of messing up? I’d had my fair share of blame and guilt, but never had I had a full sense of redemption. At least not where my wife... I mean, ex-wife is concerned.

I did that all the time. It was hard for me to accept the fact that Layla wasn’t my wife anymore. She wasn’t even my girlfriend. Hell, with the way things had been going lately, we were roommates at best.

But I guess I could call myself lucky. After all, I see Layla every day and night. It may not be much, or even what I want it to be, but it was a hell of a lot better than nothing.

I only have myself to blame. After all the lies I told... lies and more lies to cover the lies.

We sat down together every night for dinner and talked about everything under the sun; everything that wasn’t personal. She refused to get personal with me, not that I could really blame her for it. She didn’t trust me. Not. One. Bit.

But then we’d have moments where we looked at each other for a lingering moment and it was as if everything was okay again. On more than one occasion I caught myself leaning in to kiss her. And then I would see the hurt in her eyes, the unforgiving hurt that only a man that has deeply and irrevocably damaged his marriage could impose on a woman.

There was no chance in hell she’d ever let me in again. That much I knew for sure. But sometimes, when I’d look at her, eight months pregnant and not aware of the fact that she was my sole focus of attention, I’d gain a drop of hope. Hope that things would change.

I wasn’t going to try to change them. Not right away. But I had always had a feeling deep in my gut that there was nobody as perfect for me as Layla Garrett. Even through the affairs I still knew it was true. Some days it scared me shitless. Other days it made me the happiest man alive.

No, I couldn’t lose it all. I was lucky the first time. I know that this time around it could be the end...

But I’d make sure it isn’t.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I still wasn’t used to staying home all day long. I didn’t have any itinerary to consult, I didn’t have any place to go.... Now I was just... God, I’m just normal. Shouldn’t it feel better than this?

"I’m bored."

"So do something."

"I don’t have anything to do."

"Find something."

"Layla..."

"Nick, I’m working here. And by the way did you pay the electricity bill?"

"Last week."

"Good. You know I do have to say that you’re getting pretty good at paying your own bills without an accountant."

"Yeah well paying bills is easy when you have nothing else to do with your time."

"Want do you want me to tell you, Nick? Get a job."

"A job?"

"Yeah. You know, you get in a car, drive to work, sit at a desk for eight hours, come home, lament about being stressed, go to bed and do the whole thing over again. Then every two weeks you get paid and spend it all in one day."

"Well that doesn’t sound like much fun."

"Welcome to the real world, Nick."

"You don’t have a regular job."

"Yes I do. I just cut out the driving and sitting behind a desk part. Then again, I was never cut out for a traditional nine-to-five."

"You and me both."

She looked up and smiled at me. It was the first time in a long time she gave me a genuine smile.

"There’s a load of laundry upstairs. You could do that."

"Laundry?!"

"Okay, don’t do the laundry then. Good Lord Nick I don’t know! Why don’t you go get a haircut or something?"

Random. "A haircut?"

"Well I was trying to be polite by not saying anything but you could use one haircut."

"Why?"

"Because you’re supposed to get your hair cut more than once every two years, contrary to what you believe."

"How often do you cut your hair?"

"Every six weeks."

"Isn’t that a bit excessive?"

"No. Now stop talking so I can work."

"What are you working on?"

She sighed and pushed away from he laptop to give me a pointed look. Even when she looked like she couldn't stand me she was still the most beautiful woman in the world. "I’m writing about women that cosmetically alter their feet."

"Are you serious?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes. I have a deadline to meet and I’m tired. Could you please just not talk to me for an hour or two? Why don’t you go out or something?"