Page 32 of Say My Name

After a second, he says, “Then we start at the clinic.”

I nod and move to the next point rather than examine the slight roughness of his voice.

“We both provide complete sexual-health disclosure before any procedure. While we’re actively trying to conceive, neither of us will have undisclosed sexual partners. If either of us chooses to sleep with someone else, the other person knows before another attempt happens.”

“No undisclosed partners,” he repeats, his voice level. “The rule applies equally.”

“Obviously.”

The restriction doesn’t seem to trouble him at all. I’m not surprised. I can’t remember the last time I heard about him dating anyone. The thought is both reassuring and vaguely unsettling.

I point the end of my pen at him. “It ends when we stop trying. It does not become a clause controlling either person’s romantic life during pregnancy or after the baby is born.”

“I didn’t say it would.” His answer is careful.

“I’m saying it now so it never appears in a draft. If either of us wants exclusivity later, we’ll have to make that choice personally. No attorney gets to bind us to one.”

He studies me for a moment, and I can’t tell whether he’s evaluating the legal point or the possibility behind the word exclusivity.

“Agreed,” he says.

I check the final line on my page, my heart hammering against my ribs. I clear my throat, forcing the words out. “Sex is not part of the deal.”

Dominic doesn’t look away. “I heard you.”

His eyes move to my mouth and then down my blouse before returning to my face. The look is brief, but I know he remembers our conversation about the old-fashioned way.

I stand and gather my notes. “These are preliminary conditions. My attorney may add others.”

“I expect her to.”

“And I still haven’t said yes.”

“I know.”

He rises. This close, I have to tip my head back to meet his eyes. Another item for the risk column.

“Thank you for considering it,” he says.

The sincerity catches me off guard. I expected confidence, maybe another reminder that the proposal is practical. I didn’t expect gratitude.

“Don’t make me regret it.” The words escape before I can stop them, more vulnerable than anything on my list.

“I won’t.”

He can’t promise that. No one could. But he means he won’t be careless with my trust.

I return to my office with the legal pad held against my side and close my own door.

An hour later, Dominic crosses the executive floor with Evan and disappears into the elevator. Once the doors close, I pick up my phone and call the one person who will tell me the truth without telling me what to do.

Olivia answers on the second ring. We met in college, and she watched me rebuild my life after Daniel without treating me like something fragile. She also knows I’ve spent four years describing Dominic with enough annoyed detail to fill a dissertation.

“You’re calling during business hours,” she says. “Do you need money, bail, or help moving a body?”

“Your opinion.”

“That could still involve a body.”