Page 133 of Say My Name

The tension around his eyes eases.

He understands.

Later, the bedroom is dark except for the light Chicago throws against my windows.

Dominic lies beside me with one arm beneath my head and the other around my waist. His breathing has evened out, though I know he is awake. His thumb traces a slow line along my ribs, the same quiet touch he gave my ankle on the couch.

He stayed, the way he always does.

I used to think our ending was built into the arrangement. A child. Two homes. A custody schedule negotiated down to holidays and pickup times. Dominic would remain in my life because the contract required it, and I would never have to wonder whether he chose to be there.

Now I understand that neither the ending I planned nor the one I fear is inevitable.

Dominic has handed the choice back to me without a deadline or threat. He has offered me more and left me free to refuse it, even knowing refusal will hurt him.

The freedom he gives me makes the decision real.

I shift closer until my cheek rests over his heart. His arm tightens around me without hesitation.

One word would close the smallest distance left between us.

Yes.

I know which ending I want. I know the answer is yes.

Fear remains larger than my courage by the smallest possible margin.

I still cannot say it.

CHAPTER 18

Dominic

Icarry our plates into Elena’s kitchen, and she doesn’t tell me where anything goes.

That is how ordinary this has become.

I know which cabinet holds the glasses. I know her dishwasher sticks unless I push the top rack in before closing it. I know she leaves the pan soaking even though she could wash it in less time than she spends insisting it needs to soak.

Behind me, she gathers our water glasses from the table and brings them to the counter.

“You’re doing that wrong,” she says.

“I’m loading a dishwasher.”

“Incorrectly.”

I look at the two plates inside it. “Explain how.”

“You put the larger one in front of the smaller one.”

“They’re the same size.”

“They’re clearly not.”

I turn toward her. “You own six identical white dinner plates, Elena.”

Her mouth twitches. “Five identical plates and one slightly smaller plate.”