Page 234 of Say My Name

“Thank you.”

He watches until I finish drinking, then looks down again.

“I thought I knew what this would feel like,” he says.

“And?”

“I was wrong.”

“That must be difficult for you.”

“Devastating.”

I hand him the cup. “I won't tell anyone.”

His thumb rubs slowly over the blanket covering our baby's back.

“All my life, I’ve been building things,” he says. “The company, the portfolio... always moving to the next goal. I thought standing still was wasting time.”

“You're terrible at standing still.”

“I've noticed.”

He looks at me.

“Nothing I built before the two of you matters more than this.”

A breath catches in my chest. There was a time when I would’ve taken that sentence apart. I would’ve tried to measure it, define it, and identify every circumstance that might prove it false.

I don’t do that now.

Dominic withdrew from the Weller deal before he knew whether I would come home. He flew to Colorado knowing I might refuse to see him. He stayed when I admitted I'd let fear make my decisions. He told Cliff the truth, accepted his anger, and didn't ask me to make the conversation easier for him.

He keeps choosing me when the choice is uncomfortable and when the choice promises him nothing.

I believe him.

The binder I carried into my office on my thirtieth birthday held a plan for having a child alone. Every tab gave me another decision I could make without trusting anyone else.

Then Dominic found it, and we wrote a contract that tried to account for every possible risk except falling in love.

I wanted a predictable outcome.

Our child is asleep on Dominic's chest, one tiny fist tucked beneath a chin I can't stop staring at.

“I'm glad you found the binder,” I say.

His eyes meet mine. “So am I.”

I smile faintly. “You were unbearably arrogant about it.”

“I was offering a superior solution.”

A corner of his mouth ticks up, the tell I’ve come to know so well. “You were jealous of donor profiles.”

“I found them surprisingly irritating.”

A laugh escapes me before I wince.