The sequel to 'You're the one I can't have' everyone! Super excited about it! I'm still writing this story, unlike 'You're the one I can't have' this one isn't any where near to be finished. There won't be a sequel to 'Our Project' because I can't seem to find any inspiration. There might be a long period of waiting for the next chapter, because I still have to write it and I don't really have a lot of time since school has started again. I'm going to graduate (if nothing goes wrong) in two years, which means I better get my butt up and start to study for some tests.

Please review and tell me what you think about the first chapter.

Xoxo Nicole

I opened the door of our apartment in Knightsbridge, London. It was a dream apartment, right not apartment they're called flats. The 125 m^2 were divided into 17 rooms: Five guestrooms for the many guests who will visit us Troy said, a bathroom for every guestroom plus one for our bedroom and one on the first floor, a huge living room along with a white grand piano and a fireplace just like in our bedroom, a kitchen in which sadly only Troy cooks, a walk-in closet (manly used by me) or walk-in cupboard as the Britians say, but the best place about this flat was the rooftop. The rooftop had a view of whole London and after a long day at work it was nice to jump into the jacuzzi with a glass of wine and a lovely husband next to you. There was nothing better than that - well for me, anyways. For Troy on the other hand, London wasn't what he had expected. He expected the life in London would be easier, the long hours of working would be reduced but he soon realized that London would be worse than New York, in many many ways…

But the wish of working less, was just one of many wishes which didn't come true for him.

One of the wishes was me recording my album at Bolton's. He wasn't pleased about the fact that I was going to record my record via Warner Brothers, but he expected it eventually (as soon as I explained my reasons). To my surprise, recording an album was much more work than I expected… and that's why I didn't do it. Instead, I continued working as a producer, but this time at Warner Brothers and not at Bolton's. I got my independency back and never have had any regrets ever since.

Another wish from him was his father to let us live our lifes in London. Of course, Jack couldn't keep his nose out of our lifes. He tried to talk him into a divorce ever since we got married, which was nearly a year ago. I couldn't believe that it's been nearly a year. It took a year to arrange everything, to set up a date, to print all these invitations (we invited 350 guests - talk about a small wedding)… it was a lot to do on your own. And we wanted to do everything ourselves. We wanted to do it on our own because then everything would be more personal and not so… normal, so average. It should be a wedding no one would forget and it turned out to be exactly what we hoped for.

In the end, we wished we would have hired a wedding planner instead, because boy it had been a lot of work! But the wedding day itself was the most perfect day of my life. From the ceremony to the ride with the speedboat which took us to an island in the Maledives which was a wedding gift from Troy's parents. We spent there 2 months, two whole months! I didn't even believe that Troy would bear that long without his work, but it turned out to be he did. And how he did. He showed me a complete new face from him. We did everything together… from Yoga to diving It was a dream honeymoon. A dream which ended as soon as our feet touched London's ground. After a couple of days in the brokerage office, we finally found the perfect apartment for us, with a monthly rent of nearly 3 milion pound. At first I was against living in such circumstances, but Troy insisted to live here and nowhere else. And how can you say no to your husband, who just wants the best for you?

But after this year of marriage there was still one thing missing in our lifes. One thing which everyone expected from us, which everyone asked us as soon as they heared we were married for nearly one year. And that thing, -that thing which made Jake angry and everyone else sad- was a child. The biggest wish of my husband, which I couldn't fullfill yet. I told him, I wasn't ready. I told him, we couldn't have a child if we work so hard. I told him every possible lie I could create. But I knew that he knew.

I knew he wanted to have children with me so badly that soon the sex started to go after my period. The sex started to be forced. Sometimes it felt like the love was gone…

And now that was when the problem started. The problem wasn't me getting pregnant, the problem was me keeping it. But about all that Troy didn't know and neither did Jack, just like the rest of the world. It was my little secret. My dark secret. I had been pregnant four times. And every time I lost it in the first three months. It's been nearly three years since I stopped taking the pill and in those years I had been pregnant four times, four bloody times. I was mad at myself. Why couldn't I give Troy what he wanted? Why?

But he didn't realize that I had been pregnant. He didn't realize how my body changed every time there was life growing inside of me. And I was glad he didn't. So glad.

Of course the first time I was pregnant, he was happy - I told him the news as soon as I knew it- but after a couple of weeks I lost it. Just like you loose your keys, it's that easy…

It was like the world around us fell apart.

That's why I decided to not tell him about my pregnancies before I was over my fourth month. Leading to him not knowing about the other three pregnancies I had.

Living under one roof with Troy turned out to be exactly as I thought. He was coming home early in the morning of the next day, there was rarely sex and I had to play the desperate housewife while he was in his office. I worked, but not as much as Troy. I had long days, but not as many as he. I missed him in the bed next to me, but I wasn't sure if he missed me. I wasn't sure if the love just grew on one side, while the other side was busy with things such as meetings, late phone calls and paperwork. I love him -always will- but I was wondering if love was all we needed to stay together.

I caught myself sitting in the living room, beside me a hot coffee, staring into space. Letting my mind wander. And those thoughts went from worse to worst. In the end of a long day of work, I wanted my husband to be there for me- just once would be enough. But instead of sitting in front of the fireplace and talking about the hard, long day I had, I was left alone. Like before. Like many times before. And I started to get sick of it. Sick of everything. Of the air, the traffic, the people… of the city itself. For what it's worth, the city is not to blame. The city itself is a beautiful one. You just have to be happy in it. Just happy.

To my surprise, the media was even worse than in New York City. The paparazzi followed us everywhere, like we were some famous couple which we are not. I mean, yeah I wrote a 'couple' of hit-singles and a 'couple' of No.1 records but that was it. I didn't write a hit album, neither did Troy. I probably will never know what the media likes about us.

It was another rainy day in London, another day just like they had been before. I got used to the rain, used to the bad mood which surrounded me… Just like I got used to me being alone in our flat.

I made myself a glass of wine and sat on the dark red couch in the living room. I took a sip of my red wine, looked at the watch above the fire place - 1:45 a.m. - and looked out of the window. The rain had been going on for days now and according to some meteorologist the rain won't stop until the end of the week. My mind started to wander as I watched the rain drops making its way from the sky to the ground...

Maybe we shouldn't have moved to London. I hate it here. Well, not hate but… dislike. But Troy's happy here and that's all that matters, right?

No, that's not all that matters. I have been nothing but giving everything for our lifes since we moved here and he has done nothing but work. He has done nothing but working. Nothing but business meetings, business dinners, business drinks. And I am sick of it. I mean, I love working here. It was something new, something fresh… something different. But I miss my friends. I miss Ashley and Sue. I miss talking to them in a café not over the phone. Even though I do have friends in London, I miss my other friends. I miss… parts of my old life, I guess. But I can't tell Troy about this. I just can't. It had been my decision to move to London and that's where the story ends. I guess I must lie in the bed I have made.

What else am I-

My thoughts got interrupted by the front door opening, but I couldn't bring my body to move into the direction it was suppose to. I couldn't bring myself to move an inch, because I was still too caught up in my thoughts.

I heard him walking into the flat, getting off his shoes, his coat and placing his umbrella into the umbrella stand. I heard everything, but I was unable to see. I was unable to face my husband. Unable to face the love of my life. Instead of turning around, I took another sip of my tea.

"You're home early." I managed to say as I still watched the rain drops falling.

"It's pouring."

He walked up to me, with small steps and hugged me from behind. The red wine sloshed all over my grey and blue Yale sweater.

"Shit, can't you be more careful?" I cruised as I got off the couch and placed the cup on the table.

"Gabriella, I'm sorry I-"

"You know what? Just leave it!" I said in an angry voice as I walked into the bathroom. On my way, I got off the wet sweater. My white socks were wet also, so I almost fell on the marble floor which lead to the bathroom. I heard him walking behind me.

"Just go to bed already. I will get out the fucking spot myself." I mumbled to him as I reached the bathroom.

"Why are you-" I stopped him with slamming the bathroom door shut. I was not in the mood for talking. Not in the mood for talking to him anyways. Why was it so hard to talk to my husband? Why was everything so damn hard lately? It's not that I don't want to talk to him. It's just I can't. Something makes me want to cruise and yell at him as soon as he shows some love.

I sighed and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Then my eyes started to fill with tears and I washed my face with water. I was sick of this life. So sick! Sick of everything and everyone! I took a deep breath, before I started to try to get that stupid spot out of my Yale sweatshirt.

I tried my best with every spot remover and water, which didn't really help much except the spot did seem to get a little brighter. I sighed as I saw the result of 10 minutes of rubbing, before I slammed my sweater into the washing machine. I put in washing agent and press start. Then I let my body slowly slide down to the ground and I covered my face with my hands. I took deep breaths, trying to calm down. I wasn't going to cry again. Not again. I have been having those breakdowns a lot lately and I couldn't take it any more. Not any more.

With one last deep breath I got off of the floor and looked at my reflection again. I fixed my hair and opened the door of the bathroom.

With a black laces bra and gray sweatpants I walked down the corridor into the master bedroom. Troy was already in his black BOSS boxers, ready to go to bed. His eyes catched mine as soon as I entered the bedroom. I started to feel guilty. He didn't deserve a galled woman like me. He deserves better.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I'm a little galled lately." I said and supported my apology with my hands.

No response. No reaction. No emotional reaction anyways. His eyes were without any emotion at all.

"Aren't you going to react in any way?" I asked him.

Instead of answering me he walked up to me -very slowly- and kissed me. I gave in. I let go of everything and gave in. I needed to relax -and yeah I needed my husband right now without yelling for once.

Hours later I lay naked in an empty bed with just a blanket to cover me. Troy went into the bathroom to take a shower while I just lay there. I smiled. The sex hasn't been as good as this one in a long time. The sex wasn't pressured as it had been lately. It was great.

Troy's ringing cellphone interrupted the silence in the bedroom. I rolled over to see who was calling, there was no picture but there was a name. Amanda. Just Amanda, no last name, nothing… Just Amanda. Even though I could take the call, I still didn't. It would be wrong to take a call from someone else. Even if that someone is your husband. So I let the cellphone ring… and ring… and ring until it stopped. I was confused. Who was Amanda? And why was Amanda calling Troy? A message on Troy's cellphone appeared, saying that there was one voice mail. I knew I shouldn't listen to that voice mail, but I was just too curious not to. So I did. I did press the button to listen to the voice mail.

Hi Troy it's Amanda. Listen, I know we weren't suppose to meet tonight, but I really have to… you know, have you. Give me a call and we'll meet up at 2:30 in the Ritz. Oh and I'll make sure to not wear any perfume this time.

My jaw dropped. I was shocked. Literally shocked. I couldn't believe what I just heard. But I also couldn't bring myself to hear it again, so I'd be sure I heard right. My husband was betraying me. So while I was lieing in the bed -in which we just had sex by the way- my unfaithful husband was taking a shower, not having a clue that I knew about his activities.

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