Page 39 of Arden and the Girl Downstairs

It hits me.

I want to learn everything about her.

Ralph enters the room silently and hands me a folder. I take it from him, confused. He just looks at me sympathetically before leaving the room. I open the folder and inside is a set of divorce papers. Signed by Ella.

What the hell?

“You’re better now, and you’re free to do what you want, Arden. We no longer need to be married.” Her soft voice is loud in the quiet room.

Nope, there is no way that option is going to fly. I’m in this for the long haul. She will realise that soon enough.

Her eyes drift shut as she waits for me to speak. I thought I knew what I needed to say . . .until I walked in and found her holding on to Yasmin and crying. She looked so broken. She still does. I can tell she is trying to be brave and hide it from me. It’s what we do. But I don’t want her to have her guard up around me anymore.

I want to see all of her.

I try to stop my racing thoughts, or at least slow them down so I can speak. My phone buzzes. I have it in a death grip in my hand.

Waking up the screen, I see a message I’ve been waiting on.

Shamus: ETA 2 hours. I arranged everything.

I don’t bother replying. Instead, I focus back on Ella. I need to talk to her before everyone comes back.

“I’m not divorcing you.” My voice cracks slightly. I clear my throat and she opens her eyes again to glare at me. Right, I’m off to a good start. “What I mean is, I’m doing this with you, Ella. Whether you like it or not. I will win you over because for me marriage only happens once. Yes, you tricked me into marrying you. But you did that for me. You helped get me the help I needed, and for that I will forever be grateful. You were entirely selfless. I have never met another woman who challenges and infuriates me at the same time. You are different, and you may not realise it now, but I do. We’re long game. We’re just doing it a little backwards.”

“You’re crazy.” She loses the battle and closes her eyes again.

It’s easier to say this without her staring right through me, so I muster up the courage I need to continue. “I’d like to apologise for what I did during those months that I stumbled into Grumpy’s. I don’t know why I did that, but my therapist thinks deep down I had feelings for you. I just didn’t recognise that’s what they were. I’ve been a shitty friend the last few months, and I have some serious making up to do. I need to make it up to everyone. But they can wait. You are what matters.” My voice finally breaks, and I turn my head away from her. Closing my eyes, I wait for my emotions to settle before I continue.

“They love you,” her sweet voice reassures me, and it melts me a little. Her small hand reaches out and touches mine. I open my eyes, and she’s staring at me. I let my guard down and show her everything—my hurt, pain, and guilt. I’m forever the strong person for my friends, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But they haven’t seen the guilt that’s been eating at me since the phone call on New Year’s Eve. They know...they just don’t realise how bad it’s gotten.

Julia never blamed me.

I blamed myself.

The doctors told me it wouldn’t have made a difference, but it doesn’t matter.

I should’ve been there.

“Arden.” One word from her is all it takes to settle the mess that is my mind.

How did I not see this earlier?

“Yeah...” I ask, uncertain of what her next words will be. I take her hand in mine and hold on for dear life.

She’s the only girl that has ever had this kind of control over me. And she has zero clue.

“Why am I the only one that matters right now?”

I don’t even think, just say the first thing that comes to mind. “Because I don’t hate you. I never did.”

“Arden.”

There it is, my name again, and—fuck—hearing her call me something other than twat waffle or smeg head sends shivers through me and makes me want this girl even more.

“Please let me finish. You can tell me to leave after, if it’s what you want, but I need to say this, Ella.” When she stays silent, I continue. “You were different. You didn’t like me. You didn’t want my money, and you definitely didn’t want my help. I remember the nights at Grumpy’s. It took a while, but it all came back. I remember what I said to you. I remember telling you what happened. I remember everything.”

I look over, and her expression is one of utter confusion.

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