Page 23 of Say My Name

“Thank you.”

“And protected Friday from two to three. That gives you four personal hours this week.”

I lean back in my chair. “You’ve been counting?”

“I had to create a calendar category.”

“There is already a category for personal appointments.”

“It went unused so long I assumed it was decorative.”

I give him a look. He waits with the professional patience of a man who knows I won’t fire him for being right.

“Keep the time blocked,” I say.

“Good. Your hypothetical consultation with counsel begins in five minutes.”

“That stays private.”

“Hence the word hypothetical.”

He leaves and closes the door behind him.

Counsel calls on time. I move away from my desk and take the conversation from the seating area.

“A chief executive is considering a private co-parenting arrangement with one of his employees,” I say after the usual greetings.

“How senior is the employee?”

“Executive vice president.”

The attorney pauses. “Then his first concern must be whether she feels she can refuse without consequence.”

I look through the glass wall. Elena moves down the far end of the corridor, deep in conversation with Maya. Her assistant says something, and Elena stops to point out a line in the folder they’re sharing before sending her back the way they came.

“Her answer changes nothing about her job,” I say, though the words feel inadequate as I watch her command the space at the far end of the hall.

“His intentions won’t be enough. He’ll need safeguards that make that true in practice.”

I return to the legal pad.

We cover everything: separate attorneys, an independent reporting structure for employment decisions, and my formal recusal from her compensation, promotion, and reviews. The co-parenting agreement itself would have to define custody, finances, medical decisions, and privacy.

Every answer from the attorney produces another question, and I write them all down. The notes become a blueprint. Elena trusts details she can verify, not intentions. If I bring her a proposal that asks for faith, I haven’t listened to a damn thing she told me.

When the call ends, four pages of notes sit beside the list comparing me to men I will never meet. The practical case is stronger than I expected. So are the reasons Elena should tell me no.

Late that afternoon, the legal pad remains open on my desk.

I could support every point with health records, financial statements, legal protections, and a willingness to complete any testing Elena requests. None of that changes what I’ve been avoiding since dinner.

I hate the image of Elena studying another man’s file—his face, his family history, his genetics—and choosing what she wants her child to inherit. The thought is a sharp, undeniable jealousy. The man would be an anonymous profile, but part of him would remain in her life permanently. I have spent four years refusing to want that place for myself; I resent a stranger for claiming it without ever meeting her.

The attraction began long before the binder.

I look at the chair where Elena sat during her interview four years ago and remember the charcoal suit, the leather portfolio, and the way she found two flawed assumptions in an acquisition proposal before I finished explaining it. Cliff arranged the introduction, but she refused to let his name do any work for her. By the end of the meeting, she was the one asking whether I intended to offer her the job.

I hired her because she was exceptional. I also gave myself three reasons to keep my distance because I wanted her before she worked for me: Cliff, work, and the eleven-year age gap. I followed every boundary those reasons required for four years. I wanted her anyway.