Page 30 of Say My Name

He wants the daily work of being a father. I heard the certainty in his voice while he described the life he envisions.

A clinic profile protects me from romantic disappointment because there’s no relationship to lose. It also leaves me raising our child without the father Dominic is offering to be. I planned around that absence because doing everything myself felt easier to control.

I set down the pen and rub both hands over my face. Rejecting him because I might care about him would let my years with Daniel shape another part of my future. I’m tired of giving that relationship so much influence over what I do next.

Every legitimate criterion leads to the same conclusion: Dominic is the man I trust to show up.

I’m willing to find out whether we can address the legal and professional risks.

The next morning, I make it through a budget call, answer twelve emails, and revise half a presentation. By then, I’ve been working around one conversation since I arrived.

Dominic is behind his desk when I walk into his office without an appointment. He looks up, takes in the notes in my hand, and closes the document on his screen.

“Elena.”

“I have questions about your proposal.”

“All right.” His voice is even, betraying nothing. Good. This needs to be a negotiation, not a plea.

“Close the door.”

He stands and walks around the desk. I keep my eyes on the windows while he passes because today is a terrible day to notice how his suit fits across his shoulders. His office smells like coffee and the clean cologne I identified at Sephora two years ago through a process I will deny under oath.

The latch clicks. Dominic returns to his desk but stays on his feet.

“Did you sleep?” he asks.

“Enough.”

His eyes drop to the legal pad. “You made a list.”

“My process is proprietary.”

“Which means yes.”

The observation is too accurate, too knowing. I bristle. “Do you want to discuss this or my office-supply habits?”

“This.” He gestures to the chairs across from his desk. “Tell me what you need.”

I sit. He takes the other chair instead of returning behind the desk, leaving the space between us open.

“I’m willing to explore the arrangement,” I say. “That is not an agreement to have a child with you.”

“I understand.”

His shoulders loosen for a fraction of a second, then go still as his composure returns.

“Separate attorneys,” I begin. “You retain yours. I choose mine without input from you, and my conversations remain private. Since this proposal creates the expense, you cover my legal fees.”

“Agreed.”

“That’s an open-ended financial commitment.”

“I can afford your attorney, Elena.”

Of course he can. The money is nothing to him, which is precisely why the boundaries have to be iron. “I’m aware. Paying the bill doesn’t give you access.”

“It doesn’t.”