40. Celeste
Chapter 40
Celeste
B y now, I should have boarded my plane.
The constant, unending hum of the airport feels like a physical weight, crushing me. The plastic seat is as comfortable as a pebble in a shoe.
I clutch my boarding pass in my hand like it’s a lifeline. It’s not.
By now, I should have boarded my plane.
In case Caleb gets the crazy idea to come and search for me. He must be with Mia. That’s where he should be.
By now, I should have boarded my plane.
On the way to Paris, a place that stopped being my home a long time ago.
The departures board flickers in front of me. If I don’t stand up right now, I’ll miss my flight.
The intercom crackles overhead, announcing flights and gate changes in a monotonous voice. It drills into my exhausted mind.
I close my eyes for a moment, but they burn just the same. From the lack of sleep and the sheer fatigue of my sleepless night. From the stupid tears.
But that burning is nothing compared to the gnawing ache in my chest. I open my eyes and finally stand. The red numbers on the digital clock in front of me flick, ticking another minute closer to my departure.
I have to make things easier for Caleb. I can’t be the reason for him to face an impossible choice between me and Mia. Especially now, when she, and her mother, need all the help they can get.
That’s why he sent me home last night. As much as it hurts, it was the right thing to do.
My hand goes to my wrist, and I sigh. I can’t believe that, in the bleakest moment of my life, I lost the watch on top of everything.
When I arrived home, I flipped through the pictures on my phone to forward them to Dominic. Every snatched moment, every memory a reminder of my unexpected little family, brought a smile to my face, and tears to my eyes.
Caleb and Mia deserve as much time together as possible. And his company as well, especially in the light of Quinn’s arrest.
I wish I could be there for him through this period of his life, but there is no way I can perform any better today than I did yesterday.
The ICE office brought out all my illogical anxieties. It reminded me of that dreadful night at the police station in the seventh arrondissement when my mom died.
When, instead of condolences, I was hammered with questions and accusations. Or maybe it was just my perception, but it doesn’t help me feel any better about my current situation.
I’d just get deported today, so I might as well save myself from further embarrassment, from painful goodbyes and agonizing decisions.
I grab my carry-on, the handle cold against my skin, and trudge toward my gate. If I leave now, Caleb won’t have to make the choice. It’s the logical thing to do. It’s the right thing to do.
So why does it feel so wrong?
The harsh fluorescent lights of the airport reflect off the polished floors, casting a cold, sterile glow over everything. The air is filled with the scent of fast food, turning my stomach.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but my chest feels tight, and my eyes sting with unshed tears.
“Excuse me, do you know where the nearest coffee shop is?” A middle-aged woman with a kind smile and an unmistakable Southern accent interrupts my spiraling thoughts.
The normalcy of the question throws me off, and I blink a few times. “Um, I think there’s one just around the corner to the left.” I point vaguely in that direction.
“Thank you, darling.” She yanks at her suitcase. “I can’t function without my morning java. You too, huh?” She glances at my disheveled state, her eyes warm with understanding.
“Yeah, something like that,” I mumble, managing a weak smile in return while trying not to think about Caleb’s obsession with a good cup of coffee.
She pats my arm lightly. “Hang in there. New York can be tough, but it’s worth it.”
New York can be tough, but it’s worth it.
This city, with all its challenges and chaos, has become my home. I belong here, with Caleb, fighting for our future, not running away to a past that no longer fits.
The harsh fluorescent lights now seem less intimidating, the sterile glow less cold. Like my mind clears of worries and anxieties, allowing me to see the colors. The brightness. The possibilities .
The scent of fast food becomes a grounding reminder of the life I’ve built in this city. I take another deep breath, but this time it feels more like a resolution than an attempt to calm my nerves.
Caleb’s face flickers through my mind. His determined belief in our future, how we could get through this together.
He believes in us.
And I’m running away like a coward.
Merde. I turn around, and my legs that were barely moving now stride with a sense of purpose. The decision brings a rush of clarity that cuts through the fog of my fear and exhaustion.
What was I thinking?
Obviously I wasn’t. I can’t just disappear, leaving him to deal with the fallout.
He deserves better than that.
And I deserve to fight for what we have, not just give up at the first sign of trouble.
I dunk the boarding pass into a garbage bin and practically run toward the exit. The noise of the airport fades away, replaced by the pounding of my heart in my ears.
I need to get back to Caleb, to face this together, to tell him I’m not giving up on us. I need to get to the ICE offices on time.
As I exit the terminal, the humid morning air hits me, a stark contrast to the dry coldness inside. My hair sticks to my forehead, and my dress clings to my sweaty skin, but I don’t let that distract me.
It takes an ungodly length of time to finally get my turn in the taxi queue, but as I’m riding toward Manhattan, I feel lighter.
I make it to the ICE office fifteen minutes before my appointment. This time around, I don’t allow myself to worry as I haul my luggage to the second floor.
I just need to see him. To tell him everything will be okay. It will be. No more running. No more hiding. No more faking.
Ever.
Dominic is leaning against the bleak wall of the hallway, looking like his usual confident and cocky self. “Here you are.”
He frowns and takes my suitcase, looking over my shoulder. I peek down the hallway. Caleb isn’t here.
My heart skips a beat. He must be with Mia still. My lungs constrict, making breathing really hard. Suddenly, the environment comes into focus, and gives birth to my panic. Sweat trickles down my spine as I realize I have to do this alone.
Well, not alone. With Dominic this time, but that only boosts the anxiety, because embarrassing myself in front of Martinez isn’t novel anymore, but in front of Dom? Jesus.
“Where’s Caleb?” we both ask at the same time.
Oh, he probably doesn’t know about Reese being in the hospital. “He must be with Mia.”
Dom frowns. “He went to fetch you at the airport.”
“What?”
I fumble for my phone in my bag. I turned it off this morning.
It takes an unreasonable amount of time for the screen to light up, buzzing with notifications of about fifty missed calls from Caleb. Shit.
With shaking fingers, I dial his number, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
I don’t register the ringtone before his voice comes through. “Celeste.”
No one has ever said my name with such an agonizing mixture of love, pain and relief.
“I’m at the ICE office.”
“Thank fuck. Is Dom with you?”
“Yes.”
“I won’t be there on time, but I’ll hurry. Are you okay?”
His voice washes through me like the first warm rays after a storm. “I think so.”
“Let Dom do the talking.” I hear him say something to Peter, and then he comes back. “You fucking scared me. I’m so going to punish you for this, black swan.”
A shudder rakes through me. I deserve that. And frankly, his level of punishment rewards us both.
“Celeste van den Linden,” Martinez’s bored voice slices through the air.
“I have to go.” I wish my voice sounded level.
“You got this.”
My leg bounces as Martinez flips through the file Dominic prepared. I try to breathe and appear composed, but that ship sailed the minute we entered this gruesome office.
Though I must say that Dominic’s energy is the exact opposite of mine, and it helps a bit. Not much, but it gives me a sense of safety.
Martinez’s scrutiny of every single document and every picture takes an eternity. I almost wish she was asking questions like yesterday, because this silence is unforgiving and agonizing.
It lingers in the air, allowing me to think, which is counterproductive to keeping my nerves in check. I wonder if I’ll be sent to jail before they deport me.
Will they detain me? Will I be able to say goodbye to Caleb and Mia? What about Cora and Lily? My colleagues? Will I just disappear from their lives?
The thought of every single person who forms my tribe in New York lodges in my throat, restricting my ability to breathe.
I think of Cora’s croissants, of the smashing room, of my favorite hair salon, of my walks in Central Park. I stifle a whimper, grieving even my closed dance school.
Dominic turns to me and frowns, but then smiles tersely. I don’t know if he’s just attempted to console me, but fuck his bedside manners.
Martinez puts down her glasses and bores her gaze into me, her expression tense. She then looks at Dominic, who gives her a blinding smile. Seriously, where is he pulling these reactions from?
She narrows her eyes and looks back at me. And before she even speaks, I know beyond any doubt that it’s a good thing I came packed.
I only hope Caleb was serious when he said we’d figure this out, because it’s an easy phrase to throw around before the grim reality takes shape.