Page 230 of Say My Name

“The car will still be there when we leave.”

I stare at him.

He rubs a hand over his face. “That sounded more reasonable before I said it.”

Another contraction hits while I'm trying to get out of bed.

Dominic steps close, but he doesn't touch me until I reach for his shoulders.

“What do you need?”

“I don't know.”

“That's okay.”

“No, it isn't.”

I press my forehead against his chest and hold on. His hands hover near my waist, waiting.

“My back,” I manage.

His palms settle where I direct them.

“Harder.”

He presses.

“Lower. Yes. There.”

He stays exactly where I put him. When Danielle asks a question from across the room, I hear the words but can't put them together.

Dominic holds up a hand. “Give her a moment, please.”

He doesn't answer for me. He keeps his hands on my back and waits until I can lift my head.

The next few hours lose their edges. I walk until I can't stand another lap around the room. I sit, change positions, decide one pillow is wrong, and then decide every pillow is wrong. Dominic moves each one without arguing. He brings me water, holds a cold cloth against my neck, and stops checking the contraction timer when I tell him the numbers are making me angry.

He remembers every person who enters the room. He holds every instruction in his head. His fear shows only when there's nothing for him to do.

So I keep giving him something.

“My hand.”

He takes it.

“Closer.”

He moves.

“Don't talk.”

He goes silent.

“Dominic.”

“I'm here.”

Hours later, when Danielle tells me it's time to push, I’m exhausted enough to cry at how cheerful she sounds.