Walk Away, The Romance of Nick and Layla (Part 1) (9 page)

“We’re going to get answers, Layla. I
promise you.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to tell the
truth.”

“You don’t even know what the truth is,
Nick. You don’t know if this girl is lying or not. And you still haven’t
answered my question. What are you going to do if she is pregnant?”

“I don’t know.” He finally met my gaze. His
eyes were intense and his eyebrows were furrowed low into his forehead. “I
don’t want this any more than you do.”

“Well,” I didn’t know what to say. Not
really. I was too upset. Too angry. Too sad. “How much of the truth are you
going to tell?”

Nick gazed at me questioningly. “What do
you mean?”

“Well no matter what it’s going to come out
that you’ve been cheating on me. If you tell them that I’m not pregnant and
that this girl might be, then you’ll have to answer questions about whether or
not we’re breaking up. And that opens a whole new can of worms.”

“There’s no pretty side to this, is there?”

“You know what Nick? Maybe you should think
about the consequences of your actions before you engage in those actions. You
might save yourself from a whole shit load of PR hell.” I took his hands and
peeled them off of me, and I walked towards the kitchen to grab some food.

“And,” I continued, opening a bottle of
chilled water. “If you tell them that we’re really married, then you’ll be the
husband that cheats on his wife and impregnates other women. You’ll have a lot
more to deal with. No, we’ll have a lot more to deal with.” I took a sip of the
liquid, allowing time for my words to sink into Nick’s head. “Additionally, if
you tell them we are in fact married, an even bigger media storm will kick up
once I file for divorce.”

“Why are you still talking about divorcing
me?” I could see how annoyed he was with me. But I don’t care. He had no right.

“I told you. I’m not going to be your wife
if you’ve created a child with another woman. I may be a glutton for punishment
when it comes to loving you, but I refuse to commit to that. And I’m sure as
hell not going to be a step-mommy. Hell no.”

“Maybe you should just chill and wait to
see what’s really going on? There’s still the possibility that she’s not
pregnant. Or that it’s not even mine.”

“Fine. You’ll have a paternity test and
then I’ll make my move. But until then I want you to leave.”

“What?”

“I’m kicking you out of my house. From this
minute on until the minute you find out the paternity of the baby, you and I
are officially separated.”

He just shook his head and laughed
incredulously at me. “Fine.” He looked so pissed off. At me. At the world. At
himself. And for the first time that day I felt something I hardly felt for
Nick. Sympathy.

I put my water down on the counter and
walked up behind him. I snaked my arms around his waist from behind and leaned
my cheek against his shoulder blade.

I didn’t know what to say and I probably
shouldn’t have said anything. And I didn’t. And he didn’t. Instead he put a
hand on mine and squeezed it tight, his head hanging low.

I mentally prepped myself for the press
converence Nick’s handlers had arranged. I had only ever done one or two and
they always made me nauseatingly nervous.

Nick had spent the night, but we kept our
distance in the bed, our backs facing each other. And so far this morning we
hadn’t said a word to each other. It was probably better that way. We were both
on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall at any moment.

In the walk-in closet I thought about what
I should wear. Did I want to be comfortable? Did I want to look conservative?
It sounded stupid but it’s true: How you look dictates what people will say
about you.

Nick walked in and stood in front of his
side of the closet. He pulled down a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt and I
couldn’t help but groan my disdain.

“We’re not going to the movies, Nick.”

“Okay, Mom, what do you think I should
wear?”

I looked him up and down. Sweat pants and a
wife beater. Hell, he should just go like that. Really piss people off. I
rifled through hangers of his clothes, mentally picturing how they would make
him look. And then I got an idea.

I picked out a pair of khaki slacks and a
beautiful white shirt. Then I addressed a large shelf on my half and produced a
box gift-wrapped in Burberry paper. I handed it to him.

“What’s this?”

“I bought this for you a while ago. It’ll
go with your outfit.”

Nick unwrapped the box and pulled out a
beautiful Burberry tie. He looked at me. “You want me to wear a tie?”

“It’s respectable, Nick.”

“What are you wearing?” he asked curiously.

I pulled out my favorite Prada dress. A
black, incredibly snug, incredibly chic, little black dress. I then bent down
and picked up a shoe box holding a pair of gorgeous heels from Chanel. “And
don’t forget to wear your glasses.”

“Why?”

“Because they make you look sexy and it’s a
proven fact that nobody can resist you or be mad at you when you look sexy.”

His face lightened a bit and I swear I
thought he almost smiled. “Proven according to whom?”

“Me.”

Half an hour later I dabbed on a bit of
gloss on my lips and took a look at myself one final time. I looked good. It
was a small token, but at least we would look happy and matched-up. Though it
was practically a lie.

I turned off the bathroom light as I exited
and sat down on the bed to put on the 4-inch shoes. I would be just as tall as
Nick, if not slightly taller. I looked up as he entered my line of view and
felt my heart flutter. Damn. He looked good. And he was already wearing his
glasses.

I stood up, all six feet plus of me, and
walked up to him, stretching my arms up to his tie.

“What are you doing?” he asked, looking at
me.

“Loosen your tie a bit. You’re not selling
Bibles, you’re saving your career. There.” I stood back and admired him. “You
look very handsome.”

I felt nervous as he looked me over, taking
all of me in. And for the first time he smiled. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. Hold on, I have something else for
you.” I went to my dresser and pulled another wrapped box from a drawer. I
turned around and handed it to Nick. “I got that for you too.”

Nick’s smile faded and he looked a tad bit
upset. “Did I miss our anniversary or something?”

“Our anniversary is in a month. This is
from me to you. No reason.”

Nick unwrapped the box and opened it up,
revealing a watch.

“I saw it at Kenneth Cole and thought you
could wear it on special occasions. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He looked at me with sad eyes. Again,
I felt sympathy. I looked at his hair and ran my fingers through the gelled
spikes. “You don’t have to buy me anything.”

“I know. But it makes me happy to do it.” I
took Nick’s left hand and held it in my left hand. My fingers twisted his
wedding band, moving it in circles. “You might want to take this off. Don’t
want to make things worse.” I watched as he slid the ring off his finger and
closed it in his hand.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Hey Nick?”

He looked into my eyes and studied me hard.
I wanted to tell him I loved him. But instead I kissed him.

My stomach was turning in knots as I
watched Nick standing at a podium, dozens of microphones attached, on a
platform above the hungry mobs of press and paparazzi. He took a deep breath
and glanced behind at me. I softly nodded my head, showing him he was doing
fine, and he turned around to address the people.

“Undoubtedly you have all heard about the
recent events in my personal life. I’m here today to set the record straight. There
are two allegations against me. The first is that my girlfriend, Layla Garrett
is pregnant. The second is that a second woman is pregnant by me. The truth
is...” he paused and the room was dead silent, all waiting in hushed
anticipation, fingers ready to tweet the news to the masses.

Nick reached into his left pocket then. I
watched in a kind of fear as he pulled out his wedding band and slipped it on
his ring finger. “I never cheated on my girlfriend.” What the hell? The room
filled with the buzz of whispers and under-breath comments. Several people
looked up at me and I had to admit that I was having a very difficult time hiding
my reaction to Nick’s statement. “I never cheated on my girlfriend because
Layla Garrett isn’t my girlfriend.” Oh shit. “She’s my wife.”

The room roared with hungry journalists and
bloggers barking questions at Nick, thrusting cameras in his face. It was a
riot. And me? I was having a heart attack.

“If I could continue please?” The room
quieted down again, but it was still buzzing. “Thank you. We’ve been married
for eleven months. And up until two seconds ago, nobody knew. Not even our
families. So you see, I didn’t cheat on my girlfriend. I did something much
worse. I cheated on my wife.” He paused again and this time it was because his
voice was faulting. I could not even comprehend how hard this must have been
for him. I never realized until now. I never realized the jeopardy it put him
in. His career. His fans. Everything.

“I’m not a perfect man. I never claimed to
be. And I’m certainly not a perfect husband. I’m just me. Just Nick. I do
stupid things occasionally and this time around I did something really stupid.
I can’t take back what I did and I can’t apologize to my wife enough without it
only reminding her of my actions. Layla is not pregnant. We’ve had it confirmed
with her doctor that she is in no way pregnant. So that squashes rumor number
one. As for number two... Yes, I know with the woman claiming to be pregnant.”
I watched through glassy eyes as Nick stood before the pack, waiting to be
devoured.

“However, at this point I cannot claim any
parental responsibility until a paternity test is conducted and proves
otherwise.” I fidgeted with my fingers and realized I had forgotten to take off
my wedding ring. I looked down at the stunning diamond, surrounded by smaller,
encrusted diamonds, settled on a platinum band. I took a deep breath and 
really thought about what was going on.

“I’m not the first man to cheat on his wife
and I’m certainly not the last. But this was my last time. I love Layla Garrett
- Layla Hudson, actually - very much. I love her with all of my heart. And
while I have committed a huge violation of her trust and the sanctity or our
marriage, all I can do is apologize and hope that she will forgive me in time.
To the fans across the world: I’m only human. I’m not anything more, and I’m
nothing less. I’m just the same as you guys. And I hope that you will all
accept me for what I am. Flawed.”

I looked into the crowd and noticed Nick’s
managers and PR people. They were having a field day. Apparently Nick hadn’t
stuck with the script. And, in a very small measurement, that made me proud.

“Nick, why did you and Layla keep your
marriage a secret from the world?” shouted one journalist.

“Because we were trying to maintain some
form of normalcy from all the hype and media attention. We dealt with enough
attention when we were just dating and we didn’t want to expose our marriage
and have it monitored and scrutinized for the world to see.”

“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.”