Page 78 of Say My Name

Dominic’s breathing is still heavy in my ear.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

His concern is so genuine, so Dominic, that the absurdity of it almost makes me laugh. “I’m about to sign a treasury authorization while trying not to come.”

“So, no.”

“Do not finish without me.”

He is silent for a beat. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

“Then come to my place tonight.”

I press my thighs together again.

I want to say yes. I want to walk across the hall, pull him out of his office, and stop pretending the clinic is the only acceptable reason to put his body inside mine.

“I have to go,” I say, the words clipped.

“Elena.”

It’s a coward’s way out, and it’s all I have. “Good night, Dominic.”

I end the call before he can ask again.

The folder Maya left outside my office contains three pages and one yellow signature flag. I sign where she marked, send the authorization, and spend the ride home trapped at stoplights while the ache between my legs gets worse.

By the time I close my condo door, I’m angry, embarrassed, and still so aroused that the seam of my underwear chafes with every step.

I kick off my heels, drop my bag on the entry table, and head for the kitchen. The clinic portal is still open on my laptop from the last time I checked the second appointment.

I carry the computer to the couch and sit in the same corner where I stopped Dominic.

The tentative appointment is eleven days away, subject to monitoring, and the projected ovulation window is still more than a week away. The clinic told me when to start home testing, but I began early because waiting without data makes me unreasonable.

This morning’s test is still in the bathroom trash. The result was negative, exactly what the calendar predicted.

The negative test leaves desire as my only reason to call him, and I still want him here tonight.

I could wait for the appointment. Dominic would provide another sample, sit in the waiting room, and give me every bit of distance I asked for. If the second attempt failed, we would schedule a third. I could continue following the procedure until I got pregnant, or the clinic recommended a different one.

The plan is still available to me, and tonight I don’t want it.

I want to hear Dominic’s voice without a phone between us. I want his hands on me again. I want to find out what happens when I don’t stop him.

None of those reasons belong in our contract.

I open my cycle app, though I already know what it says. The clinic’s projected date hasn’t changed. There’s no early surge, no new information, and no medical reason to call him.

I type a message anyway.

Me: Come over. I want to finish what we started.

I read it twice. The words are accurate and so exposed I can’t bring myself to press send. Nothing in the message limits the invitation to conception. It leaves me responsible for wanting him, including whatever happens after he walks through the door.

I delete it.