37. Caleb
Chapter 37
Caleb
P acing.
I’ve been pacing.
I’ve been at it for twenty minutes. Or lifetimes. How long does it take to come from the ICE offices? It didn’t take this long to get there this morning, did it?
I pour myself another whiskey. Dominic texted me earlier. A message that didn’t spark confidence. Something went poorly at the interview. And now the fucker isn’t answering.
Celeste isn’t answering either, and if Dom hadn’t confirmed she was with him, I would have fucking broken her out of there.
I down the drink and go to refill it, but my phone buzzes. The amber liquid sloshes around when I drop the bottle to answer .
“What?” I bark at Xander, because he’s the last person I want to talk to right now.
“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine today?” Someone else clears his throat. “Right, sorry, I’m here with Declan.”
“Be fast, I don’t have time.”
“We’re in full-blown crisis mode and you have no time? Then maybe we shouldn’t bother you.” Declan delivers his words in his usual level tone, but after having spent some time with him, I can detect the edge to it.
Given that our CEO is splattered all over the media for his escapades last night, I don’t blame him. Why does shit have to explode at the least opportune moments?
“If you had your brother on a shorter leash, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” I snap, ignoring the voice in my head reminding me that an argument is absolutely useless.
“What’s up your ass?” Xander interferes. “This is not the time to argue about who can piss who off further. Corm has been released on bail, but as you know, the media is having a field day with this. We think you should step in as interim CEO.”
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. “Are we sure that’s the right message to send to the stakeholders?”
“We talked to our lawyer, and to a crisis management consultant.” Declan sighs. “Both suggested we show a united front and focus on ensuring the company runs without a hitch, and with crystal-clear focus. Xander and I agreed you have the experience and recognition to reassure our partners.”
Declan’s suggestion rings with reason, but before I have a chance to discuss it further, the elevator door opens.
Dominic and Celeste enter the apartment. She’s still dressed and styled impeccably as always, but her steps lack her usual confidence, her shoulders sagging and her cheeks wet from tears.
In the background, I hear Xander and Declan talking, but my mind is consumed with one thought only. A rabid need, really.
Actually, two. Who do I kill? And how do I make her feel better?
“I have to think about it.” I hang up, jeopardizing the future of my company. Inconsequential compared to the future of my wife. My marriage.
I quickly cover the distance between us and wrap her in my arms. She sniffles and lets me hold her, but she isn’t leaning in. She takes the embrace, but her heart isn’t in it.
I don’t know what happened, but hopelessness burns inside my chest. A sense of foreboding washes over me. Like I’m losing her. Or I already have .
She steps back, and the loss of her closeness hits me with its sense of finality. What the fuck is happening?
“I’m going to get changed.” She walks to the staircase, ascending like the queen she is, even in this broken state.
As soon as I hear the door click upstairs, I whip around. “What the fuck happened?”
Dominic unbuttons his jacket and drops his briefcase on the sofa. “We’ve got twenty-four hours to prove the validity of your marriage. Kind of ironic, since apparently the marriage is real now.”
“What the fuck?” I resume my pacing as if that will help the situation.
Dominic sits on the sofa, the picture of nonchalance. “From my understanding, she panicked and couldn’t answer any questions.”
I look up to where our rooms are, warring between running upstairs to hold her and staying here to give her space to find her composure. Fuck, I want her to sass me, to bring out her wits like never before.
“She has a bureauphobia.”
The fucking skepticism on Dom’s face makes me want to punch him. He cracks his knuckles. “Regardless, this wasn’t a routine interview. They got tipped off that the marriage is fake.”
The information makes me stumble, like it hit me physically. “Who the fuck would tip them off?”
“I’m trying to find out, but that won’t help us in the short term. Look, have her rest and lean into her acting skills tomorrow. I’ll do my best to present the evidence, but if she can’t answer simple questions, I can’t guarantee anything.”
My nostrils flare while my pulse speeds up. “What does that mean?” I grit out.
Dom shrugs, crossing one leg over the other. “I might get you off the felony charges, but Celeste will be deported, with a slim, almost nonexistent, chance of returning to the States.”
My phone rings and I decline Xander’s call.
I walk to the bar in the corner and pour myself another whiskey, only mildly concerned about the amount I already consumed.
Downing it, I smash the fucking tumbler against the glass banister. It helps about as much as the pacing. Zilch. Fucking nada.
I turn to the wall of windows. The view has always invited peace into my mind, but right now I only see the suffocating grid of concrete monotony. “I should have been there.”
“It’s not like they would let you hold my hand. This is on me alone.”
I spin toward her voice. Celeste stands at the landing in black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. I’ve never seen her this underdressed. Fuck .
She takes the stairs slowly, descending with resignation in her posture.
“We’ll fix it all.” My declaration is as desperate as it’s a lie. As much as I want to fix it all, I have no fucking clue how.
She looks at me with similar skepticism to what Dominic rewarded me with earlier and walks to the bar. She pours two glasses and looks at Dom, who shakes his head.
Celeste passes me a glass and glances at the shards on the floor. She walks around and folds herself on the sofa, taking a sip.
Her every move reeks of despair, void of spark or any emotion. The fiery dancer I know and love is subdued.
It pisses me off, but more importantly it worries me.
“Will I go to jail?” she asks Dom.
I sit beside her and put my hand over hers. She recoils. Not visibly, but as soon as my palm touches her, she readjusts her position, distancing herself from me.
It might look like a natural move to make herself more comfortable, but I know she doesn’t want me near her. I just know.
Why the fuck is she giving up like this?
“Highly unlikely. What is likely, with a fifty percent probability, is that Officer Martinez will file a request for deportation. We’ll fight it, of course. I’m going to call in all the favors now. You two go through your phones and find as many authentic pictures of your life together as possible.”
He stands and picks up his briefcase. Buttoning up his jacket, he nods his goodbyes and leaves.
We both stare at the closed elevator doors on the other side of this cavernous room long after he leaves.
Celeste sighs. “I’m sorry.”
I jump up to pace. Yet again. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Dominic will make sure we will prevent the worst.”
“But we can’t pretend the possibility isn’t pretty fucking real. Dom said it’s a fifty percent chance I’ll have to leave.”
“Then I’ll leave with you,” I offer immediately. Without thinking or considering the implications. That’s what I’ll do. I know that as much as I know I love her.
She stands up, shaking her head vehemently. Despite the situation, a jolt of hope courses through me at her reignited fire.
“You’ll leave with me? What about Merged?” She puts her glass on the coffee table and marches to the kitchen.
I chase after her. “Fuck Merged.” After today’s negative publicity, Merged might be fucked already, anyway.
She opens and closes a cabinet, and then another one. “And what about Mia?”
I pause for the briefest moment, because my daughter does deserve consideration, but I’ll figure it out. I will not abandon her. Or Celeste. I refuse to accept either of them being gone from my life.
“I’ll have her fly to us every second weekend.” It’s a fucked-up solution, but I need to show her we can find a solution even if the worst happens.
She keeps banging the doors, opening and closing cabinets. “You’ll have her fly to Europe twice a month. Don’t be ridiculous.”
I grip her wrist to stop her. “What are you looking for?” My words come out laced with harsh frustration.
Her shoulders slump. “Where are those stupid cookies?”
I enter the pantry and put the jar on the counter beside her. My phone rings, and I check the number. Xander.
“Do you need to take it?” She opens the jar and pulls out a cookie.
“No,” I growl and disconnect the call.
“Is it about Corm? ”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“You should answer it.” She takes a bite and drops the cookie to the counter, hanging down her head.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I bark, and regret it immediately. “Sorry.” I close the jar. “Do you want coffee? Can I draw you a bath?”
She chuckles, the sound laced with venom. “Stop being nice to me. Stop taking care of me. I know that you’re used to fixing shit. But you can’t buy my green card. You can’t pay my way through that interview.”
“But you haven’t been deported yet, so why are you already giving up?” I punch the fridge, my knuckles almost cracking.
She flinches. “Because some of us learned to prepare for the worst. I need to regroup and buckle up for the worst possible—a very possible—scenario, and I can’t have you hovering around me. It only makes this break up harder.”
“We’re not breaking up. What are you talking about?”
Her gaze meets mine, full of frustration and hurt. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“No, actually, I don’t. Okay, so you might get deported, but you’re still my fucking wife.” I pounce on her, cornering her. “And you may be scared right now, but don’t you dare give up on us.”
I pin her against the counter with my hips and cup her nape. “Don’t you fucking dare give up on us, black swan,” I repeat, before I fuse my lips with hers in a punishing kiss.
A kiss full of frustration about our current situation. About fucking Cormac. About Merged. About this infuriating woman who built her walls on the way home from the ICE office like there was nothing to fight for.
She takes my lips, my tongue, my mouth, moaning, but then she pushes me away. “Stop it. Stop it. We haven’t been together that long. Why are you making it harder than it has to be?”
Is she for real? “Because I fucking love you.”
She sighs, closing her eyes momentarily. “I love you too, but let’s be realistic here.”
“Don’t fucking try to diminish what we have,” I bellow, and she winces. Fuck.
She loves me. She loves me. So why is she giving up?
My phone rings again, but this time it draws my attention because I recognize the ringtone. Only two people have a special ringtone on my phone. One stands across from me, mad and hurt.
“It’s Mia.”
I answer the phone.
The words that come from the other side of the line shatter my world for the third time in one day. Every fucking part of my life went to shit on this glorious day.
“I’ll be right there.” I hang up.
“What happened?” Celeste asks.
“We have to go. She’s in the hospital.”