Free The Romance of Nick and Layla (Parts 1-3) by Crystal Cierlak Page B

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