Page 73 of Arden and the Girl Downstairs

His frustration is clear.

I’ve heard a little here and there about Mady and her condition, but from my understanding, nobody actually knows what’s going on.

It’s obvious these guys have done this once or twice before. She finally sits back and Chad hands her the bottle of water. Swishing her mouth out, she spits back into the bag. Isaac takes the vomit bag and twists the top before sitting it beside him and passing her a fresh bag. He hands her some tablets, and she places one on her tongue, waiting for it to dissolve.

I recognise it as the ondansetron that Ella has to have, being the fastest absorbing anti-nausea med.

Interrupting the scene before me, I ask, “Is this why you sent me the list of foods Mady can and can’t eat?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. We have to be careful because we don’t know what’s wrong,” Isaac says.

“We’ve cut out everything she reacts to, and she’ll still vomit when she eats or drinks,” Caleb adds.

Mady groans before leaning forward and vomiting again. I feel sorry for the poor girl—she’s pale as a ghost. But she’s a trooper, and she still ate even though she knew it would make her sick.

“It can be anywhere from twenty minutes after eating to a couple of hours later when she gets sick. Which is what’s got the doctors stumped,” Chad says as Caleb comes over to us.

“Honestly, I do not know what’s going on, and for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.”

A thought hits me. “Do you get cramps as well, Mady?” She just nods. “What about intense waves of nausea, like you can feel the food just sitting there and you know it’s going to come back up?”

Again, she nods. “Can we not talk about that because here comes the next wa—” She vomits again.

“Do the anti-nausea meds work?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Not always. Most of the time I just take them because I have to.”

“Has anything worked?”

“Sometimes the brownie helps.”

Ah, Jarred and his brownies. I’ve heard the stories.

“So, getting high helps?”

“No, I don’t get high. I get body stoned. There’s a difference.” She wipes her mouth and finally looks over at us. “But yes, it helps with the nausea, and it increases my appetite. I’m just never hungry. It’s gotten to where Isaac has even set alarms on my phone to remind me to eat. And when I don’t, Shamus shows up with food.”

“Well, that kind of explains where my security guard goes . . .

“Sorry about that.” Her tone is serious. She really is sorry. “I’ve tried to tell him to stop, and that other people can deliver my food, but he won’t let them—especially with all the allergies and intolerances I have.”

“I will not stop Shamus from delivering your food, Mady. That’s not happening. I know what it’s like to need people around you can trust. As long as he still does what he needs to around here, he is free to do whatever else he likes.” I turn to speak to Caleb. “Have you considered gastroparesis?”

I don’t miss the confused look he gives me.

“I have, but it’s not likely because it’s not common for a healthy person to get it. How do you know about gastroparesis?”

“They have recently diagnosed Julia with it. She was experiencing similar symptoms to Mady, and we had some tests done. Her gastric emptying study came back, which showed significant delay in the gastric emptying. Essentially, there’s nothing that they can do, but at least we have an answer and we know why she’s sick.”

“Your sister, the one with diabetes?” Lochlan asks.

“Yeah.”

Caleb interjects. “Gastroparesis makes sense in a diabetic. It’s not a common thing, but it is more common for patients with diabetes to get it.”

I know all this. The specialists we saw were thorough in their explanations.

“It’s not impossible for somebody without diabetes to get it, right? The specialists that we saw mentioned that there are other triggers.”

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