Eight Weeks Later
We flew back to Australia soon after my diagnosis, and I had the surgery. I went straight into recovery, and Lunar has been nothing but a queen taking care of me. Making sure I have been doing all my vocal exercises and keeping me well fed. I swear this woman is the most caring person I have ever known.
And to think I almost lost her.
Multiple times.
What an asshole I’ve been.
While Lunar and I have been doing the health and recovery side of things, Luke and Ryan have been taking care of Recoil. Making sure we’re still current and in the press as much as possible. When news broke of my condition, the love came streaming in.
I thought the fans would revolt.
I thought they would turn against me for failing them.
They did the opposite.
I have never had so much fan mail, let alone care packages.
It’s been a little overwhelming, but I think it’s aided my recovery.
But today, Luke and Lunar are accompanying me to see the surgeon again. I’m able to talk now, after the surgery, but I am still breathy.
“Danger, you can come through now,” the doctor says, popping his head out of his office.
Standing, we walk into his room and take our seats. The office smells like antiseptic, and the white furniture and walls do nothing for his taste in décor. It’s sterile and bleak and reflects the anxiety I feel.
“Okay, so from the results I have seen thus far, everything looks great, and in a week, when you see your speech therapist again, you can resume singing. But only minor, not belting it out like at a concert.”
Closing my eyes, relief hits me instantly as Lunar grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. Opening my eyes again, I smile at him and nod, reaching over the table to shake his hand. “Thanks, Doc.”
We speak a bit more about other possibilities and what could happen, but overall, the appointment goes well, and I’m feeling good.
Luke decides that afterward, we should head out for lunch, so we make our way to a small café with a back section where we can hide away from the street view. It’s nice to eat without being in the public view. Or from paparazzi that might pop up unexpectedly.
“So, this is damn good news. Depending on what your speech therapist says next week, we could be back up and running in no time,” Luke chimes while he swirls some pasta onto his fork, his enthusiasm contagious.
Lunar smiles, and I lean in, kissing her. My cock instantly twitches, tasting her fruity essence on my lips, and I feel like I need to remind Lunar how much I care about her.
And I will.
As soon as we get out of here and back to the apartment.
Because in moments like these, surrounded by the people who care, I am reminded that she is the most important person in my life.
We continue to eat and discuss our next steps. However, although Luke is optimistic, I know I need to be careful not to get too excited. It’s a believe-it-when-it-happens kind of scenario.
Lunch is over too soon, and while it is great to kick back and relax, we need to head out and back to the hotel.
“Thanks for being at the appointment today,” I tell Lunar as we walk back inside our suite, and she closes the door behind us.
“I’ll always be here for you, you know that.”
I pull her to face me and wrap my arms around her waist. I’ve been on strict rest for weeks, and Lunar has been adamant about not exerting myself in that time.
But I need her.
I need to feel her.
