‘I suppose so. What do you want to know?’
‘How long have you had it, exactly?’
She turns her head to the side, and I kiss her forehead.
‘I got a bout of glandular fever when I was fifteen. I missed six months of school, and my doctors think that might have been what brought on the Crohn’s.’
‘What’s glandular fever?’ Another disease I’ve never heard of.
‘We had this conversation with my parents, years ago, when my dad let slip about my health one night. You guys call it mono.’
‘Ah. Rings a bell. Yeah, that’s rough. And that triggered the Crohn’s?’
‘It’s the best guess the doctors can make. The Epstein-Barr virus is nasty, basically. And it can trigger auto-immune issues, which is what Crohn’s is. And the timing fits. I lose weight really easily when I have a bad flare-up. I was losing so much weight before I finally got a diagnosis that school thought I had an eating disorder. So many doctors struggle to diagnose Crohn’s.’
‘I guess I still don’t really get why you don’t talk about it. I imagine it would help a lot of women if you came forward, no?’
She groans. ‘I know it would, and I’ve agonised over it, because Crohn’s can definitely use more poster children. I told you. It’s mortifying. It’s so revolting. Not only does everything go right through me when it happens, because my bowel can’t cope, but I haemorrhage and I poo out blood clots. I mean, it’s so disgusting. No one wants to talk about that. Andeveryone gets so much of me already. Forgive me for wanting to keep this to myself.’
‘I totally get it.’ I ask the question I’ve been dreading. ‘Can it be fatal?’
My forearm is across her shoulders, holding her to me, and she brings her hand up to squeeze mine.
‘Only rarely. The most common reason people might die from it, I think, is if the inflammation in the gut gets so bad that sepsis sets in. That can kill you, obviously. Or I suppose if someone loses too much blood and can’t get a transfusion in time. But most of the time it’s just a nasty, debilitating and embarrassing chronic illness.’
‘So this is how it is for you? It won’t get any worse—you just have to manage your stress?’
‘Kind of. I’m very careful about what I eat—I try to stick to an anti-inflammatory diet. So, yeah, my main triggers are stress and overdoing it. But my biggest worry is that every time I have an attack, especially a bad one, I’m compromising my colon further. Weakening the lining further. And that’s not good for absorption—because nutrients get absorbed through the lining of the intestines—but the worst case is that the scarring gets so bad they need to remove my bowel and give me a Stoma instead. That’s a colostomy bag.’
‘Holy fuck.’ I pass my free hand over my face. I can’t imagine living with this hanging over me. And it’s so unfair to think that all my health issues, mental or physical, are totally self-inflicted, whereas Elle has to live with this huge fucking burden through no fault of her own.
I bend my head and kiss down her forehead, her nose, to her lips. ‘I think you are so brave.’ Kiss. ‘And resilient.’ Kiss. ‘And strong.’ Kiss. ‘And positive.’ Kiss. ‘And you’re the sexiest, most achingly beautiful woman I’ve ever known. And I will always think that, whatever physical version of yourself you endup being. Bowel or no bowel. Okay? I’m not going anywhere, and I’m so grateful you feel you can be open with me. And the more you open up, the more I fall in love with you.’
She leans her head back so I can get to her mouth, and I kiss her . Gently, but deeply.
I’ve told her a few times today that I love her, and she hasn’t said it back.
And that’s okay.
It’s way more than okay.
Because being able to say it to her without upsetting her, and knowing that she’s hopefully absorbing the words I’m saying to her, is more of a gift than I thought I’d ever get.
The whole of today has been a gift. Not doing. Not living life at the frenetic pace I’ve been used to for so long—a pace so crazy I needed a pharmacy-load of pills to come down at night. Today was slow, in the best possible way. It was about just being. With Elle.
‘Hey.’ I pull away a little so I can see her face. ‘With all the shit that went down, I never asked you how it went with Gordon Kay.’
She gasps. Sits straight up. Turns around and looks at me in horror. ‘Fuck.’
CHAPTER 45
Elle
The fallout from Gordon Kay is a fucking shit-show.
Mara was right. I gave the world’s press a wet dream of a headline.
I WOULDN’T GIVE JOSH LANDER A HAPPY ENDING IF HE WAS THE LAST MAN ON EARTH.
