Page 53 of Say My Name

“That’s usually how people arrive at bars.”

“Separately?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

She rises. “There’s nothing interesting about transportation.”

“You put it in the contract.”

“I put travel involving a future child in the contract.”

“You devoted half a page to car seats.”

“Because they’re important.”

“So is getting you home safely.”

She gives me a long look. “You’re already becoming difficult, and this isn’t a date.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep ignoring it.”

“I heard you.”

“Good.”

Elena reaches the door.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I say.

Her hand pauses on the handle. She looks back at me without turning the moment into a joke or reminding me of a rule.

“So am I.” The admission is quiet, with no hint of deflection. It’s the most honest thing she’s said to me all week.

Then she leaves.

The next afternoon, I find Elena alone in the smaller conference room, reviewing Northbridge’s final response.

She has kicked off her heels beneath the table and tucked one foot behind the opposite ankle. Her hair is beginning to slip from the knot at the back of her head. A mug of coffee sits untouched beside her laptop.

She doesn’t hear me enter.

“You’re going to hate the revised retention schedule,” I say.

She looks up. “I already hate it.”

“Then we’re ahead of schedule.”

I take the chair beside her and turn the laptop enough to read the document. She doesn’t move away, but I feel her awareness shift toward me.

We work through the schedule line by line. Elena flags two inconsistencies, and I add a request for supporting documentation. The conversation stays professional until she reaches for her coffee at the same time I reach for the printed schedule.

Our hands brush—the back of my knuckles against her wrist. A flicker of heat, and she pulls her hand back as if burned.

“That seemed conclusive,” I say.