Page 111 of Say My Name

“Then stop talking about me like I’m one.”

I face him, seeing the flash of hurt in his eyes before he controls it. “You knew what this arrangement was when you made the offer.”

“I knew you wanted a child and didn’t want a relationship attached to conception.”

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t know we would end up here.”

“Neither did I.”

“But we did, and you’re still using the logic you built for a stranger.”

I open my mouth, then close it.

An anonymous donor would never ask whether I ate lunch. He wouldn’t know I move charts when I’m anxious or that I argue more formally when I’m avoiding something personal. He couldn’t make me this angry with one careful question because there would be no man standing in front of me, waiting to hear whether I want him.

Dominic is standing here.

“You wanted someone anonymous because you didn’t want feelings involved,” he says. “I understood that. But our bodies, our choices, and the time we spend together stopped feeling anonymous or clinical a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean this has to become a relationship.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“Then what are you asking me for?”

“Honesty.”

“I have been honest.” Except for the ovulation test. Except for right now.

“You lied about ovulating because you wanted me.”

I flinch. “We dealt with that.”

“We dealt with the lie. You still can’t say why you told it without finding a practical reason afterward.”

“I wanted to have sex with you.” I offer the fact, keeping the feeling behind it.

“Why?”

The question frustrates me because the answer is obvious. He knows I’m attracted to him. He has seen me naked, made me come, and heard the things I say when I stop thinking long enough to protect myself.

“Because I’m attracted to you.”

“That’s closer.”

“Do you need me to list the specific physical attributes?”

“No.” Dominic exhales and looks away briefly. “I need to know I’m more than a collection of things you need.”

“You are.”

“Then tell me what I am.” The real answer is a knot in my chest: everything.

It’s hard to draw a breath.

He waits.