Page 50 of Rafa's Convenient Wife

“Yes. Barring any infection or unforeseen complications, we expect Rafael to make a full recovery,” the surgeon assured them.

Relieved, she sagged against Beto who braced her with his arm. “When can we see him?”

“Soon,” the surgeon replied. “Once he’s settled into an ICU room, we’ll have a nurse bring you back.”

Soon took too long. She expected it to be only a few minutes, but it was over an hour before a nurse came to the waiting room and fetched them. The nurse walked so slowly, and it took every ounce of Sky’s self-control not to shout at the nurse to move faster. She wanted to see Rafael. She needed to see him. She needed to confirm with her own eyes that he was alive and recovering.

When they finally reached the ICU room, another nurse introduced herself as overseeing Rafael’s care. She explained the rules of the ward and then talked through the procedures Rafael had endured during his surgery.

“You can both visit for a short while, but only one of you can stay in the room with him tonight,” the nurse explained. “I’ll return when it’s time for one of you to leave.”

Finally permitted to see her husband, Sky practically ran into the room. Beto was hot on her heels, and they each took up a spot on either side of his bed. She had expected him to have a tube in his throat to help him breathe, but the nurse had explained that they extubated him as soon as he was stable after surgery.

Sky tried to make sense of the tangle of IV lines and all the machines and flashing screens. She didn’t know anything about healthcare and could only assume that his heart rate, respirations and blood pressure were okay.

For a long while, neither said anything. They simply held Rafael’s hands and watched him breathe. The slow and steady rise and fall of Rafael’s bandaged chest soothed their fears. She reached over and carefully moved locks of damp hair from his forehead. She caressed his jaw and wished she could climb into bed with him. She wanted to hold him, to hear his heartbeat thudding beneath her ear.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse apologized, “but it’s time for one of you to go.”

“I’ll go,” Beto said immediately. When she started to argue, he shook his head. “You’re his wife, and he would want you here.”

She hoped that was true.

“Rafael,” Beto lowered his head and held his brother’s hand. “I’m here. I’m taking care of everything. You rest and get better.”

Sky’s heart ached for Beto. He had always been the wildest of the siblings, the one who was carefree and without commitment. He never seemed to want to be in charge of anything, but he had taken up the role as family patriarch without complaint.

Before leaving the ICU, Beto gave her a lingering embrace and promised to be right outside in the waiting room if she needed anything. Selfishly, she didn’t tell him to go home to sleep. She wanted him close, just in case.

Alone with her husband, she quietly moved a small chair close to the bed and out of the way of most of the machines keeping Rafael stable. She leaned forward and held his hand, stroking her thumb along his knuckles. She tried to relax, but it was so hard with all the beeping and hissing sounds.

Eventually, exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she placed her cheek against the bed, right by his hand. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, bent over the bed at that angle, but she couldn’t bear to be anywhere else. Still holding his hand, she fell into a fitful sleep, plagued by dreams of gunfire and blood and anguish.

“Sky.”

Jolted awake by Rafael’s raspy voice, she jerked upright and blinked her bleary eyes. She focused on his tired face and nearly wept for joy when his dark eyes locked with hers. “Rafael?”

“Mi amor.” He squeezed her hand with all the strength he could muster. “Jasper?”

“He’s fine.” She dotted kisses all over his hand. “He’s with your mother and sisters and Camila at the house.”

“Beto?”

“He’s here in the waiting room.” She started to stand. “I can get him.”

“No. You. Stay.” Weakly, he smiled at her. “Just stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed his forehead and then his temple and cheek. “I love you, Rafael Farias. I’m not going anywhere unless you’re right next to me.”

Chapter Eighteen

Seven Weeks Later

***

Rafael grimaced as he lifted Jasper from his crib. He had long recovered from the gunshot and surgery, but his muscles still protested certain movements, especially lifting wiggly babies.

“Babababa,” Jasper babbled happily.

---