She’s been in and out of the hospital for months. There were nights when machines kept her alive. There were nights when doctors said words I still refuse to repeat. She coded three times.Three.
Each time, she fought.
Each time, we fought with her.
And eventually… she chose to fight for herself.
The transplant worked.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Miraculously.
She’s in remission now.
Still fragile, still rebuilding, but here.
The band just returned from a short promotional run in Australia, and being away from her during that stretch was hell. But she pushed me to go. Told me not to hover. Told me to trust that she wasn’t going anywhere.
I still don’t think I’ll ever fully relax again.
“You look beautiful, booger-butt,” I tell her.
She snorts. “Oh, this old thing?Please. But you… you scrub up well for a man who used to run around wearing Gran’s red heels naked.”
I bark out a laugh. “I love you.”
She beams, eyes bright and a little wild with contained excitement. “Here’s your wedding present. I had my follow-up this week. No more weekly medical check-ins. No more tests unless I actually need them.” She draws in a breath like she’s been waiting to say it out loud. “And they cleared me to travel.”
For a second, I stare at her.
Six months ago, I thought I was planning a funeral. Now she’s standing in the middle of a wedding reception, telling me she’s free to get on a plane and live her life.
“You’re serious?” I ask because part of me still expects someone to step in and take it back.
“Completely serious,” she says, smiling wider. “Gran says I can fly out to the next concert when you guys start up again. I’m not stuck anymore, I can be with you and Raoul.”
My chest swells so hard it feels like it might crack open.
“She’s coming!” Andi calls out.
I glance at Kiera. “Guess that’s my cue.”
She squeezes my hand. “Go marry the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I kiss her cheek again and jog back into position.
Then I wait.
Finally, a car pulls up, and my breath catches.
Kristy steps out first in pale pink, Alana follows in yellow, but I barely register them. Then Raoul moves around the car and offers his hand.
Effa’s hand exits the door, and then she slides out. My breath is knocked from me completely as she stands there in front of me… a vision… an angel. Completelymine!
Her hair is down in soft waves, beautifully blonde, and on top of her head a wreath of intricate flowers which looks almost like a crown. It’s so Effa. I glance down at her dress. The neckline is low, and the dress is nearly see-through. The lace covers her breasts, coming down in a V between her perky tits that I really want to smother myself in right now. I swallow hard, following the line of her body-hugging dress that caresses her hips, then fans out in a mermaid tail at the bottom, forming a sort of train.
