Page 196 of Say My Name

The fire has burned down by the time we move to the couch.

Elena sits facing me with one leg tucked beneath her. I take the opposite end and leave the cushion between us open.

She reaches across it and takes my hand.

“I’ve spent the last few days trying to understand why I ran,” she says.

“Daniel came back.”

“That pushed me into it, but he isn’t the whole reason.” She looks at our joined hands. “I knew you weren’t him. I’ve always known that.”

I wait.

“When I left Daniel, I decided depending on someone was the mistake. I’d let him into my career, my finances, my social circle—everything. Leaving meant rebuilding most of my life.”

“You rebuilt it.”

“Yes, and then I tried to make sure no one could ever hurt me that way again. I protected my money, my career, my body, and every decision about my future. None of that was wrong. Believing the right plan could protect me from every possible loss was.”

Her thumb moves across my hand.

“The donor binder meant I could have a child without trusting someone to stay. The contract let me have you without admitting I wanted a relationship. When one plan stopped protecting me, I replaced it.”

Her words are a clinical dissection of the last seven months, and they gut me. I was a contingency plan. A better version of an anonymous donor.

“Then I wanted a life with you that no contract could guarantee.”

“And I chose the ending I could predict.” She looks up, her gaze meeting mine. “I was wrong on Sunday. I loved you, and I still reached for the contract because I was scared.”

“You’d protected yourself that way for years.”

“I also hurt you.” She holds my eyes. “I’m sorry. I made you prove you wanted me over and over, then treated every proof like it had an expiration date.”

“I let you hide behind the contract.”

“You told me you wanted more.”

“Eventually.” I tighten my hand around hers. “I owe you an apology too. I knew you were afraid, and I let patience become an excuse. As long as I accepted every partial yes, I didn’t have to risk hearing no.”

“You asked when it mattered.”

“After months of expecting you to figure out that I was building my life around you. I should’ve told you what I wanted and asked direct questions instead of making both of us guess.”

“I don’t want to hide behind an agreement again.”

“And I don’t want to call silence patience.”

She shifts closer, removing half the distance between us.

“I knew you weren’t Daniel,” she says. “That was part of what scared me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“With Daniel, there was something concrete to escape. He threatened me. He used my work to keep me tied to him. Eventually, I could point to what he was doing and say it was wrong.”

Anger tightens through me, but I keep it out of my voice. “And with me?”

“You could love me. You could be good to me. I could let you into every part of my life and be happier than I’ve ever been.” Tears well in her eyes again. “Then you might wake up one day and stop wanting it.”