The answer is already there. Dominic is the man I trust enough to have a child with. The man I call when I need something handled and the man who knows when to leave me alone. He infuriates me, steadies me, listens when I tell him no, and has spent four years watching me without ever asking me to become less so he could feel like more.
If I say any of that aloud, I won’t be able to keep treating our relationship like a possibility I can still avoid. It’s already here. Naming it would force me to admit I could lose it.
“You’re my boss,” I say. “My brother’s best friend. The person I chose to do this with.”
His face changes on the final sentence.
“Because I’m useful.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It’s what you said.”
“I chose you.”
“To provide something.”
“We both agreed to that.”
“I know.” He lowers his voice. “Being reduced to a function by the woman I want feels like being used.”
The word lands hard enough that I take a step back.
“I am not using you.” I say it forcefully, as if the volume can make it true.
“I don’t think you intended to.”
“That isn’t an apology.”
“I’m not asking for one.” He rubs one hand over his jaw. “I want to be wanted by the woman I want. That isn’t unreasonable.”
The woman I want.
He says it plainly. No contract language. No reference to conception. He doesn’t soften it to make my answer easier.
“You knew I wasn’t looking for this,” I say, the word ‘love’ hanging unspoken in the air.
“For what?”
“Emotional complications.”
His mouth tightens. “I’m a person, Elena. Emotion was always a possibility.”
“That’s why the terms are clear.”
“The terms don’t change what happens when we’re alone.”
“They establish boundaries.”
“They establish obligations. They don’t turn us off when the obligation ends.”
I look toward the glass wall. No one is outside, but the exposed office gives me somewhere else to put my eyes.
“The original arrangement worked because it was clear,” I say, ignoring the fact that nothing has been clear for months.
“Did it?”
“It protected both of us.”