Page 45 of Arden and the Girl Downstairs

I’m not sure the reality of me having a hysterectomy at nineteen has hit us yet. Arden told me he was in this for the long run, and that he’d work on us, but I don’t think he fully understands that I will never carry a child. For some, that’s a pretty huge deal breaker in a relationship, and we are still so young to have that option taken from us.

The waiting room is like any other. Info posters line the walls, advertising an array of new meds. Pregnant women and young children surround us. A sense of loss washes over me. It’s brief, but it’s as if Arden knows what I’m thinking as he tightens his grip on my hand and meets my gaze. Losing myself in his blue eyes for a moment, I let him calm me down and bring me back to the now.

I don’t know how Arden does what he does; he has some sort of magic gift. He knows what I need, sometimes even before I do. We haven’t been together for long, and it scares me how he already knows me so well. Arden really stepped up during my recovery; we were rarely apart and if we were, someone else was with me. He always made sure I was looked after. The first week was the hardest—I had tried to fight him on everything. I wasn’t used to having someone look after me the way he was. It was foreign and hard for me to accept. He ended up wearing me down, and I quickly learned to choose my battles.

After a long, deep and meaningful conversation with Rhys, I discovered that’s just who Arden is: he looks after his friends and family. I stopped fighting then, and let him do what he needed to.

Once the pain subsided, new feelings popped up. Arden was always touching me, and all of it was innocent, so I’ll blame the unbalanced hormones because of the surgery. The more time I spent with him, though, the more I wanted him...

Needed him...

It was foreign at the start, until it wasn’t. Now I crave Arden’s touch. I love when he holds my hand, places his hand on my thigh, or simply touches my shoulder when he walks past. It doesn’t even matter if I’m yelling at him about something, he’ll still touch me. It’s as if he’s telling me it doesn’t matter what I say or do, he’s not going anywhere.

There’s been a few nights where we’ve been lying in bed talking about everything and nothing, then all of a sudden, his lips are on mine, and things get hot and heavy. Last week I was begging him to take it further. To touch me. But the asshole wouldn’t.

Apparently, he was following the instructions from the doctors.

I hope like hell I get the all clear today.

Arden has been secretive this afternoon; he has something planned but refuses to spill the beans yet. I honestly don’t care what it is, as long as there’s at least an hour of uninterrupted time with him, so I can finally do what I’ve wanted to do forsixlongweeks.

“Miss Hughes, please come in.” Dr Jay’s deep voice breaks me from my thoughts, and I stand with Arden. We follow him into the room and each take a seat in front of his desk. Arden’s hand is rubbing circles on my lower back, keeping me grounded and connected to him. I take a deep breath and ready myself.

“How are you feeling, Ella?”

Every time I’ve spoken to Dr Jay on the phone, his voice is laced with concern—it’s nice to have a doctor that cares. Dr Jay and Caleb have handled everything for me, and I can’t thank them enough.

“Good. I’m still a little tender if I try to twist or bend over, and I get exhausted easily, but otherwise I think I’ve healed up pretty well.”

“That’s good to hear. Have you been getting any pains similar to your pre-surgery pains?”

“It’s hard to tell. I was having some, but I don’t know if that was healing from surgery or something more.”

“I want you to record any pain or discomfort you feel. As I explained on the phone, the tumour was benign, but the endo was severe. We cleaned up what we could and are hoping the hysterectomy will prevent most of it from reoccurring. It can, however, appear in other places. I’d like to see you every two months, and if anything happens, go to New Hope Private. They have my details and have been given instructions to call me for a consult if you attend.”

“Thank you.” I tear up. It’s taken me years to find someone who would believe me, and now I have an entire team looking after me.

“You’re welcome. I’d also like you to see a pain management specialist. I’ve spoken to them already and we’ve decided it would be a good idea to start you on something that isn’t an opioid. We’d like you to take a low dose of Cymbalta. We usually use Cymbalta as an antidepressant; however, low doses are used to help with pain management. It helps trick the pain receptors in your brain and has worked well in other patients with similar ongoing issues. You’ll still need to take your usual pain relief if you experience a flare up, but we’re hoping the Cymbalta will help manage your daily discomfort. Is that okay with you, Ella?”

I’ve done my research on using other meds to help treat neuropathic pain, so I don’t feel overwhelmed by the suggestion.

“That’s okay with me. Just let me know what you need me to do. I honestly can’t thank you enough for taking me seriously.”

Arden stops rubbing my back to grab my hand and give it a squeeze, reassuring me. He’s been quiet, but a quick glance in his direction shows he is taking in everything the doctor is saying.

“It’s my pleasure. I’m sorry you had it tough for so long, but I assure you, we will do everything we can to make you comfortable. Now for the good news: you are allowed to swim, have a bath, and resume sexual activities. Take it easy though, you’ll still be sore. A minor discomfort is to be expected. However, if you experience discomfort bordering on pain, please let me know.”

I catch Arden smiling out of the corner of my eye, which makes me smile.

This is the news we were waiting for.

“That’s good news, considering we’re heading to my dad’s beach house at Briar Bay this afternoon,” Arden tells Dr Jay, giving away the secret.

I wonder if he waited to tell me, just in case we didn’t get the all clear today?

Dr Jay checks my wounds and presses around a little before he lets us leave.

Arden waves to the receptionist as he rushes me out the door of the consulting suites and straight into the back seat of a limo that was waiting for us.

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