"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.
"Please," I begged.
"No. You promised to love me until death do us part. I’m not letting you break that promise."
Please stop. No more. Please Nick stop loving me. That’s all I could think of as he kissed me with such intensity it bruised my lips. Until I felt that same feeling swelling in me like a balloon. Hunger. A hunger for this man so powerful it took control over my whole body. I crawled on top of him and devoured his mouth, wanting him so bad, so much. I ran my fingers under his shirt and clawed at his skin, digging deep into him.
His lips found my neck and I closed my eyes, completely savoring his touch. I clasped my hands over his shoulders, desperately trying to pull him closer. Wanting so bad to feel all of him as close to me as possible. Stop. Please, I’m begging you to stop.
I couldn’t control the moan that escaped my mouth as he peeled my shirt off my body and over my head, throwing it wherever into the room. I was still crying when he pinned me to the ground, his touch, his kiss, growing more and more intense. And the whole time all I could think about was how much I wanted him. And how badly I wanted him to stop. But he didn’t stop. And neither did I.
Chapter Eight
You know that feeling you get some mornings, right when you first wake up? When the sun is peeking onto your skin and your eyes feel droopy with relaxation. When your whole body feels both heavy and completely relaxed all at the same time. And yet despite all that you still had that extra morsel of energy to smile? That’s exactly what I am feeling right at this very moment. All I could think about was how lovely it would be to keep my head rested on my soft, warm pillow for the rest of the day.
“You’re smiling.”
I kept my eyes closed but dimmed my smile a bit.
“Oh come on. It looked good on you,” he whined playfully. Normally this would have sent me into analytical overload, as everything he said and did to me, but not today. Not this morning. I felt Nick lean in closer and I could practically feel his skin colliding closer and closer into mine.
“Don’t even think about kissing me until I’ve brushed my teeth,” I murmured softly, snuggling closer to his warm, soft skin.
“I’m one step ahead of you.”
The sudden smell of mint forced me to open my eyes. And there, balancing gracefully between Nick’s thumb and index finger was my orange toothbrush, loaded with paste. “Nick, sometimes you’re too much.”
“Brush up.”
I peeked an eye open at Nick. I could hardly believe he was so playful this early in the morning. “Nick you know I’m not awake until I’ve had my coffee. Then I brush my teeth. Then maybe I’ll kiss you.” Nick pointed to my left. I looked in the direction he was pointing and saw my favorite coffee mug brimming with steaming hot coffee next to the lamp. “You did all of this?”
“I am a grown man, Layla. I know how to do things.” I took in a sigh, closed my eyes and arched an eyebrow. Oh yes, he definitely knew how to do things.
“You’re smiling again.”
“All right! Okay! I’m smiling. Big deal. If you want your kiss then come and get it now before I change my mind.” I thought for sure he was going to say something silly but he didn’t. Instead he leaned down into me, put a hand on the side of my face, and took my lips in his, gently, softly and very sweetly.
I swear to God sometimes I had no idea what the hell was wrong with Nick. And other times, rare times like the one we just shared, I could only think of how much I loved him.
“Blush is a good color on you.”
“What are you doing?” I asked, faux-annoyance on my face. He started singing to me, an older song about love when songs about love meant something meaningful. When hooks were memorable because of the music and not the silly repetition.
I loved the sound of Nick’s voice more than any other sound in the world. If I could, I’d listen to him singing for the rest of my natural life. I wouldn’t care. The soft tenor he could whisper, down to the deep baritone that flowed out of his mouth like velvet. I could get lost in the sound of his voice.
“Nick,” I whispered, looking up at him tenderly.
“Say you love me Layla.”
“I love you like an elephant loves peanuts.”
Nick burst out laughing and buried his head in my shoulder. He scooped an arm under my body and rolled me on top of him, but I remained limp like a lazy cat, just splaying across him like I was paralyzed.
“You mean you can’t get enough of me?”
I lifted my head, planting my chin on his chest. I wanted to remain like we were. Happy. As long as we stayed like this, lazy in our bed, acting silly and childish, then nothing would ever complicate our marriage ever again.
I rested my chin on my elbows and looked down at Nick. “Why do you think that person from that gossip blog has such an interest in us?”
“It’s her job to be nosy.”
“She’s a bit too nosy, Nick. She completely made up that story about me being pregnant. Do you know how many calls I’ve gotten from various magazines all wanting an exclusive? I just hang up on everyone.”
Nick frowned at me. “That’s not very good PR, Layla.”
“I’m not famous Nick. I don’t care about PR.”
“What about my PR?”
“That’s what you have lawyers and managers and agents for. To handle this crap for you while you lean back and relax. I don’t want to be the one they interview, Nick. That’s your occupation. I’m just there to look pretty and to smile at the cameras.”
“Is that what you think they think of you?” The pensive look on his face surprised me. It sounded silly in my head, but I didn’t think Nick could be pensive.
“Isn’t it? ‘Oh, there’s Nick Hudson and his long-time girlfriend Layla-what’s-her-nam
e. When are you guys getting married? Layla who made your dress? Layla can you move to the left so we can see Nick more?’” I let out an exasperated breath and let my fingers play at Nick’s bottom lip, smoothing over the pink skin with the pads of my fingers. “I’m not an accessory. I’m a person. I’m more than the dress I wear.”
“So what do you want to do about it? You can stop appearing with me if you want?”
“No Nick, I don’t think that’ll make things any better. Then they’ll put out pictures of you and some random girl just to start gossip.” I looked down and was surprised to see Nick smiling at me. “What?” I asked defensively.
“Do you realize that that’s the first time you made a comment about me and another girl and referred to it simply as gossip and not, ‘why the hell are you fucking around on me!’?” I did?
I looked away and put my head on his chest, my ear above his heart. “You said you wouldn’t do that anymore. I’m going to believe you.”
“Can it always be like this?” he asked.
“If afterwards we’re like this, then yes.”
“I don’t mean the sex.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“Normal.”
“Normal?”
“Normal Layla. Normal Nick. Normal married couple. Having moments.”
“Since when are we normal?”
“Since you broke free of your Annie Lennox phase. Walking on broken glass,” he sang.
“You’re used to people making up stories about you. I’m not. It was a perfectly normal reaction.”
“You could barely walk for three days.”
“Yes, so who carried me around the house? You did.”
“See. We’re getting there kid.” Nick held my hands on his chest and kept his eyes locked on mine. My mind wandered back to the photo, the blog post, and that pseudo journalist Missy Page. “Layla, you’re over thinking again.”
Shit. I was. “How can you tell?”
“Your eyes. Sometimes it’s like you forget who you’re with. It’s me, Nick. Your husband.”
“I guess it’s sometimes difficult for me to comprehend that you and I have been together for so long that you might have learned a thing or two about me along the way.” Especially with the separation and...” And all that other stuff. But I couldn’t say that out loud. Not when my heart was finally starting to give. Maybe this could work for us after all.
The Romance of Nick and Layla (Parts 1-3) Page 5
