Nick
Lips of an angel. That was the song that floated through my mind the second that my body went from dead sleep to emerging wakeness.
Lauren and I had started our night making love on the balcony during the fireworks show. From there, things had moved to the bedroom. I didn't have a clue what time we had finally fallen asleep. All I knew was that I had made my decision.
I was going to man up, to Heather the truth, and call off the wedding.
Lauren Kitt was the one I wanted.
"Laur," I murmured, my tongue already aching for her taste. I stretched out my arm, ready to wrap it around her lithe body.
Instead, my arm hit empty mattress.
My eyes flew open. Sun streamed in through the windows, a soft breeze blowing the curtain. I sat up and looked around.
"Lauren?" I called out.
Nothing.
I scrambled out of bed. I found my boxers smashed in the sliding door leading back out to the balcony. I slid them on with a snap of the band. It was hard to swallow.
"Lauren?" I asked, feebly this time.
I found the note on the table, tacked down with the corner of the room service menu. Her handwriting was sloppy, but to me, it was just right. I sank down into the chair, my eyes scanning the words in disbelief.
Nick,
I woke up this morning and read the news. I can't believe you didn't tell me. God, how could I have been so stupid? You're just another douchebag. Deep down, I thought I had finally met my prince. I thought you were going to choose me. But instead you slept with me while your pregnant fiance spent the night alone just for your own selfish needs. I'm done being used by men...includin g you.
This isn't just about three adults anymore. I can't do this to a child. Marry Heather. I hope you have a long happy life together--
Lauren
I had to read the letter three times before I vaguely understand what was going on. I landed on the floor and crawled around until I found my jeans.
AJ answered on the third ring.
"Hey papa!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I just saw on TMZ that Heather's preggers. You're spose to wait until AFTER the honeymoon. Damnit, I can't believe I'm the only fucker that's not gonna be a dad. You're a jackass."
The blood that had all flown south the night before flew to my eardrums.
"J, you've seen Heather. She's not pregnant."
"Dude, I'm just a TV junkie. All I can report is what I hear."
"Fuck."
"That's how it happens."
"What happens?"
"Knocking her up!"
"But I didn't!"
"Didn't what?"
Now I kinda knew why Brian and Howie always got so mad at me and J. Our conversations were ridiculous.
"Never mind," I growled. "I gotta find Heather."
I hung up and grabbed the letter again. The words burned into my eyeballs until they hurt. With a bubbly, gurgly, not-so-human noise erupting from my throat, I ripped the letter to shreds.
As I stepped out of the elevator onto Heather's hotel floor, I suddenly realized that all the lies and all the cheating had finally come back to kick me square in the ass. I should have stopped everything and manned up a long time ago. Then maybe Lauren and I would still be in bed in Vegas. Maybe...
I froze.
Maybe Heather wouldn't be trying to sneak out of Brian's bedroom right in front of my very eyes.
Heather
I woke up with a splitting headache that felt like my skull was being split by a sledgehammer. The smell of coffee wafted through the hotel room and into my nostrils. I lay still, my eyes closed. I didn’t dare to move. Fuzzy images floated through my mind, words tumbling, jostling like the remains of a Jenga tower once it had fallen.
It’d been a terrible nightmarish dream, hadn’t it? I wondered. I swallowed. I reached out an arm under the blankets slowly, running it up my naked body to my bare breasts. Well. I was most definitely not clothed. Part one of the nightmare confirmed fact. I wasn’t certain I wanted to know the rest.
I slipped my arm off my breasts, my hand moving across the Egyptian cotton sheets…...... and…. I felt… nothing.
I opened my eyes and looked to my left. The bed was empty. It didn’t look slept in. It was just a bed, plain and not scary. And certainly not occupied by Brian.
I let out a gasp of relief and let the blankets drop from my chest to my lap. “Oh thank God,” I breathed, covering my eyes. “I didn’t sleep with Brian.”
“Nope, you didn’t.”
I almost crapped myself at the sound of his voice, my heart putzing out of my chest as I seized the blanket back up to cover my skin. I squeaked and turned around. He was sitting, bleary eyed, in a chair by the window, his eyes bloodshot and tired. He was holding a cup of coffee, which sent steam floating up into his chin. He smiled weakly, “You fell asleep.”
I stared at him. Why, God, why wasn’t he a figment of my imagination? Why? I wondered what kind of a fool I’d made of myself, how slutty Brian now thought I was. I covered my eyes and groaned and fell backwards into the pillows. “Oh Brian,” I groaned, “You must think I—“
“No,” he interrupted, “I don’t think.”
I looked at him again. How could he not think I was a slut? I wondered. “But, Brian, I tried to have sex with you,” I said quietly.
Brian shrugged, “You made it clear you’re not interested in anything more than friends, Heather, it’s okay.”
Okay how could Brian Littrell of all people not think friends with benefits entailed slut?
“You should go back to your hotel room,” he whispered. He gestured to the white cotton robe that laid across the foot of my bed. “Nick’s gonna be in looking for you, you know he is.”
I stared at my bathrobe, then looked at Brian. “I was really drunk last night.”
“I know,” he said.
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“I know,” he said.
I still felt like shit. “I would never sleep with you sober,” I added for good measure.
Brian’s coffee splashed onto his hand as he banged it onto the table next to him and he stood up. “Thank you.” He stormed into the bathroom. “Lock the damn door behind you,” he snapped, and he slammed the bathroom door.
I stared at the door dumbfounded for a long moment. “Brian?” I called, “Why are you pissed?”
“Just leave,” he called back.
I sighed. Whatever. If Brian was pissed because I’d tried to have sex with him then- then- then so be it. I gathered up my robe and pulled it tight to my body and looped the bathrobe closed. I headed for the door and stuck my head out into the hallway. A paparazzi could be watching and the last thing I needed was being photographed taking my walk of shame to my own room. I darted into the hall when I saw the coast was clear, and headed for my room door.
Suddenly the elevator dinged.
I looked up.
Nick blinked in surprise. He glanced at Brian’s room, then at me, his eyes sweeping my body, my sexed-up hair… He looked at Brian’s room door again. “Heather?” he said, “What the hell is going on?”
I swallowed. “I can explain.”
Brian
When Heather said that she’d never sleep with me sober, I’d realized that the shit she’d said the night before about wanting me and hoping to see me naked again had just been stuff to get me into bed that instant. I was a payback lay. She wanted me to have sex with her so Nick would feel like a jerk for cheating on her.
Heather had been about to use me.
I’d punched the wall. Hard. I’d crumbled to the floor, clutching my hand and calling out for Heather to help me, but apparently she was past that. I’d struggled with the cell phone, trying to decide who to call. My mind was scrambled, my heart unsure what to believe, and I called Howie.
A couple of hours later, Howie was pushing me out of the local hospital on the mandatory wheelchair patients had to be discharged riding, my hand freshly cast from the fracture the wall had given me.
“Mind telling me what the hell this is all about?” Howie asked with his latino roll. He eyeballed me. “You go crazy, we all go crazy. You’re like the backbone of this band.”
“I was pissed.”
“At the wall?” Howie laughed, “What’d the wall do to you?”
I glowered down at the cast as Howie helped me up and passed the wheelchair off to a waiting nurse. “At life, Howie,” I said.
Howie opened the passenger door of his car and waited until I got it. “Watch your fingers.” He slammed the door shut and ran around, climbing into his own side. “Look, Brian,” he said, “Now isn’t the time to go getting suicidal,” he said.
“I’m not thinking about suicide,” I answered, “I just—“ I looked at Howie. He looked… well, trustable. “Howie, I almost slept with Heather last night.”
Howie blinked. “You – what?”
“I almost slept with Heather last night.”
Howie stared at me. “What do you like have a fetish for pregnant chicks?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Heather,” Howie said, “It’s all over TMZ. She’s pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” I demanded. “No way in hell is –“ but then I thought about her tummy. The curve of her abdomen had been a little….bigger….than it looked clothed, hadn’t it? I felt my blood get a little cold. “Oh God,” I whispered. “But… but she was drunk. Why didn’t Nick tell – why didn’t she –“ My mouth was sticking to itself.
Howie shrugged. “I guess we know why Nick was so persistent to get a ring on it, huh?” he winked and nudged me.
“Yeah,” I said quietly, “I guess so.”
And the horniness that had led to her coming after me.
“Are you okay?” Howie’s voice broke through a reverie I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen into.
“Yeah-huh,” I said.
Howie eyed me. “Brian,” he said, “Why don’t you just tell her?”
I sighed. “She doesn’t care, D. I sent her a letter. She didn’t think it was important. She doesn’t love me back.”
Howie sighed, “How do you know she got the letter?”
“Nick said—“
“Nick?” Howie laughed. “Brian, you’re a dumbass if you’re gonna just listen to Nick.”
I stared at my toes as he started the car. “Besides,” I muttered, “She’s pregnant.”
Howie sighed. “Talk to her.”
“I can’t,” I said and I knew even though Howie wanted to argue with me… he wouldn’t.
