Page 3 of Worth the Vow

“You were only sixteen?”

“Yeah, but I knew I had it. My mom had it as well, and one of the biggest risk factors is another woman in the family suffering from it. I also had all of the symptoms. Heavy and painful periods, lower back pain, and short cycles. The surgeon who performed the laparoscopy said endometrial cells can latch onto anything in the body. Literally anything. Mine had begun to grow in one fallopian tube and both ovaries. The surgeon managed to save one ovary, but the second one completely ruptured during the procedure. That’s why I found it bitterly hilarious that you thought I was pregnant. My system is so messed up, I may never get pregnant.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Katharine. That’s a lot for any woman to deal with, much less a teenager.”

She shrugs. “Not like I could choose another route. It is what it is.”

“How much did all of that cost? The procedures, and the hospital stay.” I’m almost worried how she’ll respond.

“Oh, I was still on my mom’s insurance, so I don’t know.”

Fucking hell. That meant she was a minor for all of it. “How long have you been dealing with this?”

“Basically since puberty,” she says quietly.

I’m floored. I can’t imagine having an exploratory surgery as a minor. She must have been petrified.

Clearing my throat, I question, “How often can these issues happen?”

“I guess they could happen every month. Well, as long as I actually get my period. I guess until menopause, which will be when I’m around fifty? So I’ve got a ways to go. It’s really weird talking to you about this, by the way. Can I go back to my room now?” she whispers.

“No.” I hear her mutter “jackass” under her breath, but choose to ignore her. “What’s going to happen this time, or the next time, if you need another exploratory surgery? Will surgeons even do it if you don’t have insurance?”

“They’ll do anything,” she says with a dry laugh, “but I’ll owe them for the rest of my life.”

Our fucking medical system at work.

“What can I do for you right now?” I ask.

Kate shrugs. “I just need some Tylenol or Ibuprofen. It’ll help with making the pain more manageable.”

“Should we go to the emergency room?”

She grimaces before shaking her head. “There’s nothing they can do. They’ll take x-rays, charge me a ton, then just give me a prescription for pain meds that I also can’t afford. I appreciate your willingness to help, Dominic, but I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first time dealing with a ruptured cyst and no insurance.”

Before knowing what I’m doing, I say, “I have excellent insurance. All the full-time employees at the hotel do.”

“Jesus, Dominic. Way to rub it in.” I see the hurt in her eyes, but I soldier on.

“It goes for families as well. Spouses and children.”

“Okay?” she asks warily.

“So it’s settled,” I say, rising from the bed. “We’ll go to the courthouse.”

“Hmm?”

“You need insurance. We’re getting married. End of discussion.”

“What? Are you insane?” Kate screeches.

“I’ll go get you some Ibuprofen.” I walk out of my bedroom with my head held high, leaving a sputtering Kate sitting on my bed. Only later will I realize how right she looks in my space, and how much that scares the shit out of me.

I said I’d never get married again, or let a woman into my heart. But this is just helping a person in need, right? I’m not setting myself up for heartbreak. I’m just doing what my mom says I should do: giving to others.

I’ll ignore the voice in my head that tells me I’m so completely fucked. It all started two years ago, when my mom convinced me to hire Kate as my nanny, and things haven’t been the same since.

Dominic

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