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“Stop,” I say. “Don't say shit like that.”

“I'm dying, mi amor. There's not a single thing you or the doctors can do to stop it. But what you can do is live. If not for yourself then for me. Live for me.”

Loud rushed footsteps bring me back to my current reality and I glance down at my shaking hands. She was right. The hope I carried during my wife's fight with cancer slowly died with her. It's been ten years since I last saw her smile and held her hand. I think about her almost every day. It's what keeps me going sometimes—my promise to continue living and pushing on. I've never broken a promise to her before and won't start now that she’s been gone a long time.

Sirens blare through the walls and a woman carrying a screaming, sick baby sits beside me. Another across from me is holding her broken arm cradled to her chest.

Fuck, I hate hospitals.

I avoid them every chance I can. I couldn't this time. Not with Enrico's life on the line. I'd always put him before myself. No matter what it involved. Too worried about my godson, my fear of walking inside didn't hit me until I sat in this hard, uncomfortable chair. I shift, resting my face in my hands. I only wanted Enrico to be okay, so getting him the help he needed was my only focus.

I'm ready to argue with him again. To see his playful smirk as he gives me nothing but sarcastic answers, refusing to get in the car whenever I try to bring him to his father.

Hours later, a woman holding a clipboard walks my way. “Are you family of Enrico Herrera?”

I nod. “Yes, I'm his uncle,” I lie. I helped raise the boy, always there to guide him the best way I could. So it isn't too far off. He was the closest thing to a son I've ever had.

She smiles softly, hugging the clipboard to her body. “I wanted to let you know he's going to be okay. We had to rush him into surgery but he's being moved to recovery now. It's a good thing you got him here when you did.”

My eyes widen and my heart thuds against my chest. “Surgery?”

“Yes. Due to severe bowel obstruction, too much damage had occurred for us to help him any other way. Had he come sooner, it wouldn't have been necessary. Do you know why he avoided getting treatment?”

My throat grows tight and I ball my fists. “No. He is very stubborn and sometimes places his job above everything else.” He's too much like his father in that way. More than either cares to admit.”

She nods in understanding. “He's currently out of it from the anesthesia and won't be awake for a while but you're welcome to sit with him as soon as we get him settled.”

“Thank you. I'd like that.”

“I'll come and get you in a bit then.” She spins around and retreats back to where she came from, the bottom of her shoes scraping against the laminate floor.

Leaning in my chair, I grab my phone to type out a message to Zacharias, stopping halfway. It's my job as his lieutenant and best friend to update him on what's happening with his son and why he can't make tonight's party, but I can't stop thinking about my agreement with Enrico. I'd hate to break the trust between us. Then it will lead to him pushing me away every time he's in trouble. He already does it with everyone else.

My anger amplifies when I remember the situation we're in. He broke his promise to me, so maybe it no longer matters if I do the same.

Guilt tugs at my chest as I continue the message, and I delete it as soon as I reach the end. Maybe he can do it to me, but I can't do it back. To anyone else, but never him.

Sitting up straighter in my seat, I retype my message and press send.

Me: He's safe and okay but he's not coming.

Zacharias: What do you mean he won't come?

Me: He's exhausted and says all he wants to do is sleep. He looks like he could really use it. I think he's coming down with a bad cold.

It's strange to have a party on a Wednesday but Zacharias always does things his way whether people are in agreement or not. His guests will still show, so it’s not like it’s something he has to worry about.

Zacharias: Fine. Make sure he's here Sunday.

Me: What do you want me to do, drag him there screaming?

Zacharias: If you must. Tie him up and transport him in the trunk for all I care. My son needs to be here with his family. I don't care how you get him here, just do it.

I shove my phone in my pocket without responding. I don’t have to; he knows I'm going to follow through with his orders. What excuse will I come up with next if Enrico isn't better by then?

The nurse walks back out the large double doors and gestures for me to follow her. “You can come back now.”

Rushing to my feet, I follow her onto an elevator. As soon as we get off on the second floor, we walk down a narrow hallway. She stops in front of a room and slowly pushes the door open. “Visitation is until eight p.m. It's best not to disturb him in any way while he's sleeping. He needs as much rest as possible in order to properly recover.”

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