Page 190 of Say My Name

I’m going home.

I’m still afraid Dominic may hear everything I need to say and decide I waited too long. Loving me may have become too painful, and the baby doesn’t obligate him to forgive me.

If that’s his answer, I’ll survive it. Making choices for both of us so I would never have to hear his answer is what brought me here.

I open a flight search and enter Chicago as my destination.

My phone sits beside the laptop. Dominic called this morning to tell me he knows about Daniel. He withdrew Rowe Holdings from the acquisition before speaking to me. When I argued about the financials, he told me the decision would stand even if I resigned or ended our personal relationship.

That matters. It doesn’t create a debt.

He ended the acquisition because Daniel’s nondisclosure and transition role made it the right decision for Rowe Holdings. I can be relieved without turning his choice into proof that I owe him forgiveness, a relationship, or a flight home.

Then he asked if he could come.

He didn’t demand my address. He didn’t get it from Maya or access the information attached to my leave. He asked, giving me the choice he always gives me.

And for once, I didn’t run from it. I said yes.

He sent his flight details; I know he’s on his way, but a storm front may slow the drive from Montrose. I don’t know when his car will reach the cabin.

I open the note from the trail and add what I need to tell him.

Daniel Weller is the man who threatened me.

I knew during the call and didn’t tell you.

I found out I was pregnant Thursday morning.

I tried to tell you three times, then I ran.

I was more afraid of needing you than I was willing to trust what you’ve shown me.

I love you.

I want a real life with you, if you still want one with me.

A hot pressure builds behind my eyes as I read the list.

I don’t edit it. I don’t add conditions or explanations designed to protect me if he rejects the last two lines.

The earliest flight home leaves tomorrow morning. I select it and reach for my wallet.

Three firm knocks strike the cabin door, the sound sharp and final in the quiet room.

My heart jumps into my throat. It’s too soon. I freeze.

My phone shows no new message.

The knock comes again.

I stand so quickly that my chair scrapes across the floor. The flight information remains open on my laptop as I cross the living room.

Cold light cuts through the narrow window beside the door.

Dominic stands on the porch.

His dark coat is open over the white dress shirt he wore to work this morning. His hair is disordered, and exhaustion shadows his face. He looks completely out of place against the mountains behind him.