36. Celeste
Chapter 36
Celeste
Saar
I’m leaving today, but promise I can hang out with my niece and my sis-in-law when I return
Me
It’s a date. When are you back?
Saar
Hopefully soon.
Me
I have the interview today
Saar
No worries, it’s just a formality
Me
I’m nervous
Saar
You got this. I hope my brother is coming with you.
I should have known nothing could be this good forever.
The week after I moved into Caleb’s bedroom passed in an unprecedented harmony. It’s like that first night in his bedroom we exorcised our demons, unearthed our insecurities, and found redemption in each other’s arms.
We’re not perfect, but we are us. That’s enough for now. The only blemish on the picture-perfect life we naturally embraced is the invitation for an interview with ICE.
Both Dominic and Caleb dismissed it as a formality. Isn’t it strange it came this early? Are Cressard’s connections really this powerful?
I pull out a simple brown shirt dress that hugs my breasts and flares at my waist, falling to my knees. Most of my clothes are still in the guest bedroom, because there was no time to move them.
My hair gets pulled into a simple chignon. With shaky hands, I apply my red lipstick.
I make another futile attempt at finding my watch, but it’s nowhere to be seen. I’ve been looking for it since last night, but I must have lost it. The thought brings in tears, and a sense of foreboding.
My connection with… I shake my head.
It’s going to be okay. I don’t even have to lie. This has become a real marriage. I’ve been repeating this mantra all morning, but it does shit for me.
I threw up twice already, barely making it to the guest bathroom because I didn’t want Caleb to hear me. Who knew sharing a bedroom would have a disadvantage?
When I make it down, Caleb is in the kitchen. Dressed in a tailored navy suit, he looks perfect. Untouchable. In charge.
It hits me that if I get deported, I’m going to lose this man. It’s probably a silly thought, but the weight of it pools around the crevices of my eyes, stinging.
When Caleb turns, his signature espresso looking tiny in his large hand, a tear rolls down and I wipe it angrily. Jesus, I’m such a mess.
He puts the cup down and rushes to me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m just nervous.” And I feel even more freaked out because of my watch. I don’t tell him that. He’s been eyeing me with suspicion for wearing it anyway. Probably wondering why I keep all three watches he gave me in their boxes.
He kisses my crown. “I’m coming with you, and Dominic will be there as well. It’s a formality.”
“You keep saying that, but just the idea of entering a government building makes me want to throw up. ”
“Which you already did, so there’s nothing else to puke out.” He winks, wrapping his arms around me.
I groan. “You heard that?” I bury my head in his chest.
He chuckles. “Can I make you a tea for the road?”
I shake my head.
“Or I can fuck you in the car on the way there to distract you.” He takes my hand and leads me to the elevators.
“Can you be serious,” I snarl, surprising us both. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Merde. Sorry.”
The elevator door opens. “Take it all out on me, black swan. I’m giving you a free pass.”
I sniffle. Jesus, I’m such a mess. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me later. On your knees.” He winks.
“Caleb,” I warn.
The elevator opens and we get into the car.
“Mia is coming this weekend. I’m going to call Reese today and see if we can go out of town,” Caleb says.
“That’s a great idea.” I try to force myself to chat with him, but my mind remains frozen.
“I was thinking a theme park. Is she too old for it?”
I know he’s mostly trying to distract me. We can easily make these plans after my interview. When my brain returns, and my heart resumes its usual healthy cadence. “I’m sure she’d love that.”
A yellow cab brakes, barely avoiding a pedestrian. One man bumps into another, spilling his coffee. A young woman holding an umbrella balances a stack of folders as she enters a building.
Life on the streets of New York passes in its typical bustling nature, while we wait on what seems the longest red light.
“Celeste,” Caleb’s voice startles me. “You weren’t listening.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I can’t relax.”
“Okay, enough of distracting you with words.” Caleb hits the button and the partition rises.
Before I get my brain to string together a coherent thought, he drops to his knees, yanks me to the edge of the seat.
“Caleb,” I protest.
“Shut up and be a good girl. We have just enough time to make you come.”
I stumble out of the car, avoiding Peter’s eyes. I know he can’t hear us, but the amount of times we’ve raised the divider when he drives us is a bit embarrassing.
Caleb takes my hand and kisses it. “Ready? ”
Strangely, his talented tongue distracted me for the ride, and it also relaxed me enough for the enormous knot in my stomach to soften a bit. I nod.
“Okay, wife, let’s get you that green card.”
We enter the gray offices that haven’t seen an interior designer or a woman’s touch in ages.
Caleb deals with an annoyed officer who sends us to the second floor, where we’re supposed to wait.
My heart echoes in my temples as I follow him, while my breathing, my vision and my head feel like I’m submerged underwater.
My husband moves with confidence. I doubt he’s ever been to a government office like this, but somehow he fits. Even wearing probably the most expensive suit in the entire building, he blends in.
We get to the second floor, where people of different races sit around, bored and grim, waiting in a long hallway.
Caleb squeezes my hand, and I force myself to give him a smile.
Merde, I have to nail it. If for nothing else than for him. He married me as a favor, and since then he’s done more, so much more.
The least I can do is to go through this interview and get my stay in the US sorted out, so we can move forward.
“I’m good.” I bite my lip and keep shaking my head back and forth, as if that will lend credibility to my statement.
“I know.” He kisses my temple, holding me closer. His phone buzzes. “It’s Cressard.”
Caleb lets go of me to answer, and immediately frowns. My heart rate spikes.
“Shit, Cressard, then send someone else,” he hisses.
Dominic is not coming. I’ll be at the interview all by myself. I squeeze my handbag, but my hand still shakes of its own volition. Stumbling, I slam against the wall, hoping for support while my knees go weak.
Caleb hangs up. He circles his hands around both my biceps, half holding me upright and half lending support. I think.
“It’s going to be okay, Celeste. You’ll be okay. Just answer the questions and then march out of there.”
The oxygen is barely hitting the top of my lungs. “Where the fuck is he?”
“One of his foster kids needed… Never mind. He’s not here, but it changes nothing. I’ll be waiting here. You focus on that. Okay?”
I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
“Okay?” Caleb growls, his voice demanding.
It does the trick, and snaps me out of my spiraling breakdown. “Okay. He wouldn’t be answering for me, anyway. But he has all the proof with him.”
“He’s taking care of that, don’t worry. This is a formality.” He kisses my forehead, and I decide to believe him.
It’s not like I have any other options.
His phone buzzes again. He groans and disconnects the call, but it lights up again.
“Sorry,” he says and turns away. “What?” he barks into the receiver.
I watch him like a hawk, mostly to forget about my nerves, but it doesn’t do me any good. His shoulders tense, and my stomach rolls immediately.
I clutch at my midriff as I brace my back against the wall.
Caleb hangs up, spitting a string of profanities.
“What happened?”
“Cormac got arrested.”
“What? You need to go.” I offer before I even consider what it means to me.
“I’m not leaving you here.”
Gripping his arm, I force him to look at me. “Caleb, you reminded me a gazillion times that this is just a formality. Go take care of fucking Quinn. I’ll be fine.”
It costs me all my acting skills to sound confident. A part of me wants him to stay, but that is the scared and desperate part that needs a knight in shining armor.
The much bigger part is equally scared, but refuses to be desperate. I know I have his support, and what good would it do for him to sit outside?
He shakes his head. “No way am I leaving you here. Especially with Cressard being a no-show.”
“Caleb van den Linden, get the fuck out of here. You didn’t start a company to have it fucked up now. What did he do?”
“I don’t know… He’s been charged with being drunk and disorderly.” Caleb lowers his head, shaking it.
“Just go, Caleb, please. I know you support me. I’m stronger because of your support. And knowing I have it is enough. You don’t need to sit here, waiting. Please.”
He studies me, a war brewing behind his eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Don’t you dare. I’m getting my green card, and I want you around, not in prison.” My smile stretches stronger than the feelings inside me.
His chest moves up and down, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a similar rhythm. He eyes me like he can see inside me, like he can assess if leaving is a mistake.
So I lean into my performing skills and give him a smile, a genuine smile. “Go.”
He shakes his head, contradicting his words, “I’ll send Peter to pick you up. Call me the minute you step out. ”
“Stop ordering me around and go save your CEO.”
I’m pretty sure I’ve been sitting in this office for at least three hours. The clock on the wall must be broken. No way it’s been only five minutes.
Five minutes in which Officer Martinez introduced herself and said she’d get us coffees. She hasn’t returned yet.
The air is thick with the scent of something sanitary, and something cinnamon-like. The sparse furnishings—a metal desk, a couple of mismatched chairs, a filing cabinet in the corner—do nothing to ease my mounting anxiety.
I fidget on the cold, hard chair, the sterile white walls closing in around me.
The door opens and I jump up. Martinez, a weary-looking woman in a gray pantsuit, narrows her eyes.
Merde. I’m already failing this. Nobody this nervous is innocent. I should just tell her about my bureauphobia.
Would that help me, or just make her laugh at my pathetic attempt to lie?
She puts a plastic cup in front of me before she sits beside me and puts on glasses. The fact she didn’t take her own chair should probably comfort me, but it does the exact opposite.
I push my hands into my thighs, preventing them from bouncing.
Martinez flips through a file for what feels like another three hours, which is ridiculous, given it’s a thin folder.
She glances up, her expression one of practiced indifference, as if she’s seen too many cases like mine to muster any actual interest.
“Let's start with the basics, Mrs. van den Linden. When did you get married?”
The fluorescent lights above buzz faintly, casting a harsh glare that makes everything seem even more unforgiving.
My throat tightens, and I struggle to find my voice. “Um… we got married on…”
My mind blanks, the date slipping away. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I just can’t grasp it.
She raises an eyebrow, and it sends panic surging through me. “I’m sorry, I can’t… I can’t remember right now.”
“You can’t remember the date of your own wedding?”
I bite my lip, fighting back tears of frustration. Maybe I can ask her to have this done over coffees in a coffee shop. I’d find my groove if we were anywhere else.
Memories of the night at the police station after my mom died fill my head, and I freeze completely.
“Mrs. van den Linden?” Martinez prompts me.
“I—I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m really nervous.”
If I expected compassion, I got a sigh. She looks back at the file. “Fine. Let’s move on. Can you tell me where you and Mr. van den Linden have a joint account?”
The room feels smaller, the walls pressing in closer. I try to focus, to summon the information, but all I can think about is the ticking clock on the wall, each second hammering my nerves further.
“The bank… It’s, um… I think it’s… HSBC?”
She meets my eyes, her gaze steady but uninterested. “You think?”
“Yes, HSBC,” I say, trying to sound more confident, but my voice wavers.
“Alright. When did you meet Mr. van den Linden’s family?”
A wave of dizziness washes over me. I know this. I know the answer. But the words won’t come.
She makes a note, her pen scratching loudly against the paper. “If you can’t provide straightforward answers to these questions, it’s going to be very difficult for me to recommend anything other than deportation.”
Her words slice through me, leaving me raw and even more useless. I stare at her, completely paralyzed as she continues the interview that really becomes a one-sided conversation.
“How long were you dating before you got engaged?”
“When did you move in together?”
“Has he met your family? Were they here for the wedding?”
The questions are hammering down on me, and I try and mostly fail to answer. Or maybe I answer some?
I try to focus and remind myself my world is here, and I can’t have my annoying anxiety prevent me from staying.
I can’t disappoint Caleb, abandon the theater, leave my friends behind, and most importantly, I can’t return to France.
Clenching my fists, I try to ground myself. “I’m sorry. It’s just… this place…”
She eyes me, unimpressed. Closing the folder, she drops it on her desk. “Take a deep breath,” she says, though her tone lacks warmth. “Let’s try one more. How did you and your husband meet?”
I take a shaky breath, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to block out the oppressive room, the buzzing lights, the cold metal. “We met through his sister. She’s my best friend.”
Officer Martinez nods. “We can’t proceed with vague memories and half-recalled details, Mrs. van den Linden. Especially in light of the fraud report we received.”
Someone reported us? “I have a bureauphobia,” I blurt out.
She stands up and rounds the desk to take her seat. “Don’t we all.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, despite my efforts to rein them in. “I love my husband.”
I sound pathetic, and I hate how I said those words for the first time to this woman who just wants to close the case.
A knock on the door snatches her attention before she can laugh at my declaration.
She stands up and yanks the door open. “I’m in the middle of an interview—”
“And I’m Mrs. van den Linden’s lawyer, Dominic Cressard. I’m sorry I got delayed.” Dominic pushes inside without an invitation. “Officer Martinez, I brought all the documents to prove the validity of my client’s green card application.”
“Mr. Cressard, as of now, your client failed to reassure me of the validity of her marriage, and I’m afraid I don’t have a choice but— ”
Her phone rings and she sighs, picking up the receiver. “Martinez.”
Dominic squeezes my shoulder and gives me a reassuring nod. While his presence lifts my veil of anxiety somewhat, I know I fucked up. Especially in light of the fraud report.
Martinez hangs up. “I see you have connections, Mr. Cressard.” If she was indifferent during the interview, now she’s pissed. “But I do my work with integrity.”
Her words rip a gasp from me.
I bury my face in my hands, overwhelmed by a mixture of fear, frustration, and self-loathing.
I’m crumbling. And I don’t know how to stop it.
Dominic helps me to my feet and marches out, while I follow in a daze. I’m going to be deported.
Caleb bought a theater to get me a job, and then he married me when that didn’t work out. And I couldn’t fucking answer a few questions to prove our relationship is real.
The looming separation shatters my heart into a million pieces. He can’t leave his daughter or his business behind. I’ll never let him do that.
I’ve lost him.