Page 59 of Say My Name

“I’m trying to understand my role.”

Maya hugs me and introduces Dominic to the friends he hasn’t met. Olivia tells him within thirty seconds that I complain about him often. Marcus offers him a beer. Everyone watches us with varying levels of subtlety.

Dominic doesn’t miss a beat. “I assumed she discussed me constantly.”

Olivia laughs. “Mostly when you rearrange her schedule without asking.”

“I move meetings when she forgets to eat.”

I stare at him. “That happened once.”

“Three times last month.”

Maya lifts her glass. “Trust me, he has notes. You’re going to lose this one.”

I refuse to ask how often the two of them discuss my lunch habits when I’m not present.

Dominic acts as though none of it bothers him. He remembers names, asks questions that aren’t small talk, and listens to Olivia tell the story of the letter I drafted after our college landlord refused to repair the heat.

“She cited three municipal codes,” Olivia says.

“It was sixteen degrees outside,” I remind her.

Dominic leans close enough that his mouth brushes my ear. The warmth of his breath on my skin is a distraction. “You had a binder before the binder.”

“I had standards.”

“You still do.”

His thigh presses against mine beneath the table. Neither of us moves.

For the next two hours, he slips into the spaces of my life. When Marcus leans in to say something, Dominic’s arm rests lightly on the back of my chair, a silent claim. He listens to one of Olivia’s stories, his expression serious, and she laughs, won over. Even Maya’s interrogation about our work on the Northbridge schedule doesn’t faze him. He makes it all feel unsettlingly easy.

Maya returns from the bar carrying a tray of shots and sets one in front of me.

“No tequila,” I tell her.

“It’s your birthday.”

“It was my birthday weeks ago, and I still hate tequila.”

Dominic picks up the glass and smells it. “She said she doesn’t want it.”

The table quiets for a beat.

I put my hand on his wrist. “I can handle Maya.”

“I know.” He sets the shot back on the tray. “I was handling the tequila.”

Maya looks between us. “Vodka?”

“Please.”

She takes the rejected shot and heads back toward the bar. Dominic turns his hand beneath mine until his thumb rests against the inside of my wrist.

“Too much?” he asks.

“A little.”