Chapter 22 Cora
Chapter twenty-two
Cora
The ride to Helena is long and awkward. Theo is kind, as usual, which honestly only makes it worse.
He smiles gently at me when we meet up at his truck, he asks how my day has been.
He insists I play the music I like on the radio, and he suggests stopping for Thai on the way home—my favorite.
But between those gestures where there normally would have been chatter and banter, there’s now just a heavy silence.
A silence that makes me want to cry for more reasons than one. Especially after what I’d learned from Addison yesterday.
I suppose all the signs were there. Sure, I figured he found me attractive when we first met, but a lot of guys do. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. There’s a big leap between attraction and love.
But apparently Theo covered the distance.
When we arrive at the immigration office, I feel sick to my stomach. Nervous, guilty, scared, a bit heartbroken. But I take a deep breath and follow Theo up the stairs.
The waiting room smells like stale coffee and lemon cleaner, and a kind receptionist takes our names and gestures for us to sit.
I bounce my knee without realizing it, tapping my fingers against each other. The minutes tick by, my mind buzzing until—
Theo’s hand hesitantly reaches for mine, stilling it against my thigh. “Hey,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “We’re gonna be fine.” It does calm me, surprisingly. Enough to get a good breath of air into my lungs.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “I just keep thinking I’m going to say something wrong.”
“You won’t,” he says easily. “We know our story.”
Our story. If anything, our fling should have brought more realism to this whole situation—more confidence, resolve—but instead, it’s thrown me off my game even more. Especially now that …
I glance at him. He looks calm—annoyingly so. Relaxed in dark jeans and a button-down, his hat resting on his knee like this is just another errand. Not the thing that determines whether I get to keep my life.
Whether I get to stay.
But regardless of his cool demeanor, I know he’s taking this just as seriously as I am. If not more so. It’s one of the first things he said to me after our fight on Monday. “This changes nothing. We’re still getting you that green card.”
A door opens.
“Cora Walker and Theodore Strickland?”
Theo stands first, tugging me gently up with him. “That’s us.”
We follow the officer down a narrow hallway into a small office.
There’s a desk, two chairs in front. The officer—a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and a no-nonsense bun—gestures for us to sit.
“I’m Officer Rollins. This interview is to determine the legitimacy of your marriage.
I’ll be asking questions separately and together.
Answer honestly.” It’s a rehearsed speech, clipped, to the point.
Theo’s hand is still on mine, and I realize I haven’t moved to pull it away.
“Let’s start simple.” She looks at me. “When did you and your husband meet?”
“Two years ago,” I answer without hesitation. “At Thatcher Ranch. I’m an on-site veterinarian, and he’s a ranch hand.”
“When did you start dating?” she asks Theo.
“Last fall.”
I nod quickly in agreement.
Officer Rollins’s eyes flick up. “Who asked whom?”
Theo smiles, slow and fond. “I asked.”
My stomach flips. Because that part … technically isn’t a lie.
“And how did he ask?” she presses.
I swallow. “He cooked dinner. Burned the first attempt.” We didn’t discuss this, but I assume Theo will go along.
“I did not burn it,” Theo says mildly. “It was … charred.” I can’t help but smile. It feels like the old Theo and Cora again. Us. Joking, laughing.
Officer Rollins flips a page. “When did you decide to get married?”
Theo’s jaw tightens—not visibly, but I feel it beside me.
“When my visa situation changed,” I say carefully. “But we’d already talked about a future together.”
Theo nods. “Marriage itself wasn’t sudden. Just the timing.”
Officer Rollins studies us for a long moment, then stands. “I’ll speak with you individually now. Mrs. Strickland, you first.”
My heart slams against my ribs. Mrs. Strickland.
No one’s called me that yet. I also hadn’t planned on changing my name because this was never supposed to last forever.
But something about hearing it has it settling into my bones, causing an ache so deep I wonder if I’ll be able to shake it out after this.
Theo gives my hand one last squeeze before he stands and exits the room.
Officer Rollins asks about my first impressions of him, our first encounters. His job. His habits. What side of the bed he sleeps on.
“The left,” I answer.
“What annoys you about him?”
I blink. “He leaves his boots around the house instead of by the door.”
She arches a brow. “Only that?”
I hesitate. Then, softly, “He … takes care of everyone but himself.”
Her expression softens—just a fraction.
When Theo returns, it’s my turn to wait in the hall. There’s a single chair by the door, and I take a seat, clasping my hands in my lap. It doesn’t take long for me to realize that I can still hear the muffled conversation from within the office. And if I really focus, I can make out words.
At first, it feels intrusive—but then I shake my head. No, we’re here with a goal, and it’s not like he’s in there with a therapist.
I hear her ask similar questions to the ones I was given along with slight variations. My sleeping habits, my favorite foods.
“And what does your wife usually drink in the morning?” Officer Rollins’ voice wafts through the walls.
There’s no hesitation. Not even a pause to think. “Coffee,” Theo says. “Dark roast. Oat milk and, like, a ton of sugar. She won’t drink it black. She might pretend to if we’re out of milk, but I’ll just find a cold cup of coffee sitting around somewhere hours later.” He chuckles.
My breath catches. That’s … correct. I never would’ve guessed he’d notice that.
“What side of the bed does she sleep on?”
“The right,” Theo says. “Away from the window. She doesn’t sleep well if the rain or wind is too loud.”
I swallow.
There’s a shuffle of papers. A pen clicking.
“What’s something she does when she’s stressed?”
Theo exhales softly. “She gets quiet. Makes herself scarce, small. Like she feels like her emotions are a burden on others—but they’re not.”
My chest tightens.
“And her favorite food?”
“Thai,” he says. “Pad see ew. No peanuts—she’s not allergic, she just hates the texture.”
I stare straight ahead, my vision blurring. I clench my fists, trying to breathe, but it’s becoming increasingly harder.
Officer Rollins hums thoughtfully. “What’s her biggest fear?”
This time, Theo pauses. “That she doesn’t belong anywhere,” he eventually says. “That if she lets herself settle, it’ll get taken away.”
The hallway feels suddenly too small. Like the walls are closing in on me. There’s not enough air in here. Not enough space. Tears are falling, unbidden, down my cheeks. And I’m drowning, drowning, drowning.
“Thank you, Mr. Strickland.” I hear the squeak of chairs against the linoleum, along with footsteps, and I hastily wipe my face, fighting to regain control.
Suddenly the door opens and Theo is there, but his smile falters just a bit when he sees me. His eyebrows crease as his eyes search my face. He opens his mouth, but I stand, clearing my throat and asking pointedly, “You done in there?”
He nods slowly. “She wants you to come back in.”
I nod, walking past him and into the office, praying to God that my eyes aren’t too red. Thankfully Officer Rollins doesn’t seem to notice as the two of us settle back into our chairs and she shuffles through some papers on her desk.
She folds her hands. “Last question.”
I nod.
“What did you do after your wedding ceremony?”
Theo answers instantly. “Bought cake. Ate it for dinner.”
I nod. “Chocolate. Grocery store bakery.”
Officer Rollins smiles—this time for real. “Congratulations. Your application will move forward. You’ll receive notice by mail.”
For a moment, I don’t understand the words. I think I was expecting another question, more grilling, or perhaps that we’d be sent back to limbo, waiting for months to hear back.
Then Theo’s hand finds mine again, firm and warm.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Yes—thank you,” I echo, my voice shaking.
The next few minutes are a blur as Theo asks follow-up questions, Officer Rollins offers further information, and then the two of us head back out to Theo’s truck.
His low chuckle is the only thing to pull me out of my haze. “You look shellshocked,” he says.
I huff out a breathy laugh. “It was so … easy.”
He smiles softly. “Of course it was.” He glances down at the concrete below our feet, then he braves another look at me. “Welcome to legal inhabitance of the United States.” He’s teasing me, but it’s true.
I’m getting a green card.
I get to stay.
And for the first time in weeks, my heart unclenches just a bit.