Page 57 of A Coffee Away

Miguel squeezed my hand. “He’s strong. There’s no way in hell he won’t come back from this. Trust him. Trust the doctors.”

The dam broke at that moment.

I shook in Miguel’s arms, letting my tears fall freely. “I can’t… What if…?”

Miguel caressed the back of my head. “He will make it. He has you.”

Robbie was taken into the operating room immediately. A dark roast was in my hands, courtesy of Gaby, who’d arrived soon after Raúl called her. The room was full, but an emptiness took hold of me. I might as well have been alone.

I looked at my watch. An hour and still nothing.

“Family of Roberto Fernández, please come to recovery.”

I ran to the intercom and pressed the button. “This is Esteban Miranda to see Roberto Fernández.”

The door buzzed open, and I dashed inside.

Robbie was asleep. Monitors beeped all around him. His breaths were calm, his pulse stable.

I squeezed his shoulder. “Baby?” No movement.

My chest constricted, and I rushed to the nurse. “Why isn’t he awake?”

She darted her eyes around the recovery area, then let out a soft exhale as the doctor entered.

She shook my hand. “I’m Dr. Echevarría. Are you his family?”

“Esteban Miranda. I’m his fiancé.”

She nodded. “Mr. Miranda.” Her hazel eyes shifted between Robbie and me. “The surgery went well. The back of his head suffered severe trauma, and his skull cracked, but we stopped the blood loss and relieved pressure from his brain. So he’s stable.”

His skull cracked?

My chin quivered, and something shattered deep within me. Was I that close to losing him?

I watched his chest rise and fall in a slow rhythm. Was he just sleeping or…?

I’d been in recovery with Dad after his appendix surgery and with Mom after a gastroscopy. They never called you in unless the patient was awake.

I frowned. “Why isn’t he awake?”

She pocketed her hands. “When a patient suffers this kind of injury, we have to let his body and brain do the work. His vitals are normal, and his body is functioning quite well for what he went through. But even though the swelling has been controlled, it may take time to heal.”

I took Robbie’s hand. His pulse was strong. His skin was warm as always. But he was not here. Not really.

“Doctor, talk to me straight.”

Her features softened as she looked at our joined hands. “Based on the severity of the accident, we suspect Roberto may have suffered a diffuse axonal injury. We’ll run more tests to confirm, but the pattern fits. The impact of this kind of accident is so fast and strong that the brain is literally shaken. Such violent brain movement can damage its connections.”

My heart stuttered. “What do you mean?”

“It means Mr. Fernández is in a coma. He needs to heal on his own, and we can’t predict when or if he’ll come to. That depends entirely on him.”

My hope was crushed in that instant. A heavy shroud fell around Robbie and me, covering us in a thick fog that wouldn’t disperse. A coma?

His eyes were closed, but his heart was beating. His chest moved to the rhythm of his breathing. I held on long after the doctor left even as they moved him into a room.

I was numb. Speechless.