Page 42 of Arden and the Girl Downstairs

I look up into his blue eyes and smile. “Morning.”

The pain increases as I attempt to move, and if I don’t take some meds soon, it will only get worse. I’m on a low dose painkiller now. It still makes me sleepy, but I can function better on it. And I am improving—I can move around on my own, slowly.

Arden gently unwraps himself from around me and gets up off my bed. We’re in my apartment instead of the house.

Arden tried to move me into his bedroom, but I refused and put up a fight. Eventually, he gave in because it was easier having everything here and no stairs to navigate.

Everyone also found out about Steve. It was the funniest thing to happen in a while.

I was sitting up in my bed at the hospital, eating jelly, when I remembered. I blurted out that someone needed to feed Steve.

Ralph and Chad chuckled while the rest of the room stared at me, confused.

Arden asked me who Steve was and why he couldn’t feed himself, which just made Ralph laugh more.

Ralph told him that Steve doesn’t have thumbs, so that would be impossible.

I managed a small laugh before I filled the room in on the joke.

Steve is my pet rat. I found him one night at Grumpy’s. He’s mangy and ugly as hell, but has been with me for over two years, and is a pleasant companion. The room erupted in laughter. Well, everyone except Arden. He just stared at me open-mouthed for several long moments and then apologised for trying to evict me because of my pet.

He and Steve now have a love-hate relationship. I think, deep down, Arden has a soft spot for him.

Arden comes back in to help me sit up before handing me my painkillers. I watch him walk off, stripping out of his clothes on his way to the shower.

As nice as it’s been cuddling with Arden for the last few weeks, I would love to see where our relationship goes next. However, doctor’s orders: No sex for six weeks.

I groan in frustration, and he lets out a soft chuckle. He’s aware of my growing needs, but he won’t even consider doing anything until I have been given the all clear. I know he’s right, but Arden being the voice of reason is something I am still getting used to.

Arden

The past few weeks have been nice. I’ve made up with my friends, although they told me I had nothing to make up for. Julia is back in Canary Bay going to school, so Ralph and Martha are there with her at the moment, but they have been coming back for the weekends.

It’s clear Ralph just wants to check on Ella, and Martha doesn’t trust Doris to feed us properly. I’m sure Martha’s counting down the days until she gets to move back to New Hope permanently.

Ella only took two weeks off from uni. I tried to force her to rest longer, but she won the fight, so we compromised. I drive her to school every day, which isn’t a problem since we have all the same classes, but we are only doing half days. The afternoon lessons we have been streaming from home, so she can have a nap if she needs to. And trust me, she needs to.

I’m amazed every day at how much she is improving. She’s completely off the pain relief and is getting around mostly on her own. She still refuses to move into the main house with me, but if this afternoon’s appointment goes the way I think it will, I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade her.

Her apartment is pleasant, but it’s not big enough for everyone. Rhys, Ally, Chase, and Yasmin have all been hanging out here with us. Then you add Chad and his group, followed by Pace, and it’s been a revolving door of people.

I just want her to myself for a little while.

There’s a soft knock at the door, then Yasmin pokes her head around the corner. We stopped locking it during the day because I was sick of getting up to answer it.

As she walks in, I scan her over and smile. She looks good—she’s doing a hundred times better than she was last year.

“Chase looks good on you,” I joke, and she blushes. She’s wearing his hoodie and her signature princess PJs.

“Shut up. It was going to happen eventually.”

We both know I wasn’t talking about the hoodie. I didn’t have time to unpack everything that was revealed during what we now refer to as “my intervention.”

“I’m surprised you held out that long, but really, proposing? Surely there was a different way to convince him.”

It’s her turn to smirk at me. “Like you can talk, Mr Married At Eighteen.”

I fake hurt, but she’s just teasing. It’s been a running joke, now that wecanjoke about it. Ella and I are still married, and I’ve stayed true to my word; I will be there as long as she will have me.

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