“See, this is why I love you,” I smiled. “You’re the brains of this operation.”
“And you’re the LeBraun.”
“Not sure if that pun works, but I like where your head’s at.”
I never was one to believe in having it all, but I really felt it that night.
We were going to win the championship this year (I could feel it) and my wife loved me and I loved her. We talked into the wee hours about how we could move to the same city. I volunteered to move to D.C. for next summer, to her place, and then we could figure out the next move, with Chicago high on the list since I obviously played my home games here, and we liked being around each other.
That night, we slept more soundly than we ever had.
Then I woke up the next morning, kissed her goodbye so I could go to practice and she could go to the airport, and that was the last time I saw her.
CHAPTER 30
CATARINA
My grandmother used to say,‘if something seems too good to be true, it is.’
Personally, I couldn’t believe my good fortune over the past few months.
And then, as the TSA official scanned my passport, he said those three words I most feared hearing since this all began.
“Come with me.”
It seemed surreal as I walked behind the guard. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and, seeing it was Dustin, answered.
“Hey,” he said, and I could tell his voice was shaky.
“Hey. So, I’m getting taken into the back room by TSA.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Oh fuck?”
“Jackie. The video. She didn’t release it tothe press. She released it to the office of immigration. And if they have reasonable cause—which they would based on that video, they can?—”
The phone got taken out of my hand by the security guard. “I’m sorry, there are no phones allowed in the interrogation room.”
“Interrogation room? Exactly what am I being interrogated about?”
“That’s not my role. I just bring you to the room.” The man hung up my telephone, and that’s when the really bad feeling in my gut returned.
We got to a nondescript looking room in the back of the airport, and the man led me inside. When he left, another man came in with black hair and glasses.
“Mrs. LeBlanc? Or, I suppose I should say, Miss Vidal,” he said, closing the door after the first guard left.
I wished I had officially changed my name right then and there, but I’d never gotten around to it.
“It’s Mrs. LeBlanc,” I said.
“Right. Look, I’ll cut to it. This morning, you were reported, and we have strong reason to believe you’re engaging in marriage fraud.”
I swallowed. “That’s not true.”
He scoffed. “Look, I’m not the judge and jury here, but I saw the video. Have you seen the video?”
“I haven’t.”
