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“Three months, Tris.”
“Yeah, and one of those months was spent recuperating from surgery. You also didn’t answer his calls or texts.”
I focused on how irresponsible Eli was for breaking his hand again. “Which he jeopardized by trying to play hero.”
“Because he loves you,” Tristin sang. His sigh was wistful as he mused aloud, “I wish someone would break down my door to rescue me.”
I blinked at the phone in my lap. “I didn’t ask to be saved. Nor did I ask for his confession of love. I just want to go home. I want my own bed and a hot shower and to be—” I paused, unable to finish a contradictory statement, but Tristin filled in the blank.
“Why would you run now? You called him. Remember?”
“I didn’t think he was going to pick up,” I truthfully answered.
“Why wouldn’t I answer your call?” Eli stood at the entrance to my private room.
My head snapped up. I attempted to lie, “I wasn’t—”
But Tristin interrupted, yelling on the other line, “Yes, he was talking about you! Don’t let him lie to you. He has a habit of pushing people away when he’s sca—” I fumbled to hang up the phone, effectively cutting Tristin off.
Eli looked as badly as I felt. In the past almost twenty-four hours, he hadn’t left the hospital. He only left the room to get x-rays on his hand, to have a couple of fingers reset and an actual cast put on, but leaving to go home?
He sat in the chair next to my bed and attempted to reach out to me, however, his right hand was in a cast as was my left arm. “Ahh,” Eli chuckled nervously, “maybe I should—”
“Why are you still here?”
“Straight to the point, huh?”
“Three months, Eli. I haven't heard from you for twelve weeks.” I lowered my eyes, focusing on my blanket, my vision becoming blurry.
“You told me not to call you,” he pointed out. “I had already fucked up so badly, the least I was capable of doing was giving you the space you needed to heal.”
I lifted my head to glance at him. “Technically I didn’t—”
“And that’s our issue. We exist in this space of technicalities as if they can excuse withholding important information from one another… just because we’re afraid of rejection. I can admit how and where I fucked up and I want to—need to—tell you the truth. But only if you’re ready and willing to hear. And on the off chance that you’re not, then yes, I need to let you know that I am head over heels in love with the man you are. Not the man you present to everyone else, but the one that snorts when he laughs, the one that leaves his hair in my shower and clogs my drains, the one that doesn’t care for spicy foods, but eats it anyway because he knows I love it. And—,” Eli paused, his eyes slipping to his hands as he finished in a hushed voice, “—the one that can’t have kids.”
To hear my truth from his mouth forced a small rush of breath from my lungs. My fingers flexed around the sheets as I willed my breathing to return to normal and my body to stop trembling.
“I should have answered your question that night. Or the night after, or the night after that, but I didn’t know what to say because I honestly believed that no matter what I did say, you would have done what you always do and convince yourself that I wasn’t being honest.”
“Because you haven’t been,” I shakily replied.
Eli raised his head to look at me, his amber eyes glittering with sincerity. “You’re right. I haven’t. But to answer your question”—he stood and sat on the edge of the bed—“I would be honored and elated if the rest of my days consisted of the two of us. And no, I won’t say ‘just’ because there’s an implication of incompletion. My life became so much more the day I met you. So, yeah.” He smiled softly as he stood again. “Me being here causes you discomfort and I need to go and shower and tell Jason and the guys that I’ll be useless in the kitchen for a while.” He held up his hand to illustrate his point. “I’m only a phone call away, okay?”
I watched him leave without saying another word.
The following day, as I was being discharged, my OB/GYN came in holding a few pamphlets. “I wanted to discuss your options moving forward, Delaney.”
I tore my attention away from the nurse going over aftercare instructions to respond to the doctor. “I’m not going on anymore hormone boosters, I’m not trying birth control and no, I’m not anywhere near rich enough for surrogacy.”
“Well thank goodness because I didn’t bring any of those pamphlets,” he chuckled. He placed the leaflets in my lap. “With the extent of your condition, you do have options that can give you peace of mind. We can do partial surgery, where we remove just your uterus, which would keep you from entering early menopause. I recommend that one. Or we can do a full surgery, which would send you into early menopause and then the alternative to that is artificial hormones. Or we can put you in a clinical trial for a pill that is not birth control but does stop heats for as long as you consistently take the medication.”
My head swam with the information. I flipped through the pamphlets, clarifying. “So, my options are major surgeries or a daily pill?”
“Or continue on as you have been. I just want you to be aware of your options, son.”
I bit back my snarky response to thank the doctor in a clipped tone. “Thank you. I’ll discuss these with… I’ll give it more thought and reach out to you as soon as I’ve come to a decision.”
“You’re still going to experience side effects of the hormone boosters leaving your system. Please wait until you’re stable before making a decision, okay?” I nodded and the doctor squeezed my shoulder. “Oh! This might be against HIPAA compliance but tell your friend he is very lucky. Had the orthopedic surgeon not owed me a favor, the nerve damage in his hand would be beyond repair. What a foolish young man, breaking down a door after being told that if he sustained any more injuries his mobility would drastically decrease.” The doctor tutted softly, “Kids these days…”
