Page 36 of Say My Name

Elena sits a little straighter.

Amelia reads the revised clause. “Both parties must provide complete sexual-health disclosures before the first attempt and promptly disclose any information that could affect the other party or a potential pregnancy. While they are trying to conceive, neither party may have an undisclosed sexual partner.”

“Medical prudence,” Elena says. The phrase is so perfectly her, so carefully detached, as if this is about risk mitigation and not about who we are to each other when we leave this room.

“Yes,” Amelia agrees. “It allows each of you to make informed decisions about testing and whether to proceed with another attempt.”

I turn to Elena. “It applies equally?”

Her brows lift in a silent challenge. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“I’m asking for confirmation.”

Elena meets my eyes. “If I sleep with someone while we’re actively trying, I tell you before we proceed again. You do the same.”

The tension in my shoulders releases. I should have kept the reaction off my face.

“You seem pleased,” she says, her voice dry. She sees too much. Always has. The observation lands like a warning to be more careful.

“I wanted to hear you say it.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but Amelia continues before Elena can decide whether to challenge me.

“To be clear, this isn’t a general exclusivity provision,” Amelia says. “It applies only while you are trying to conceive and requires disclosure. It does not give either person control over the other’s romantic life.”

“And it ends when active attempts end,” Elena says.

“Yes. The agreement imposes no romantic or sexual exclusivity during pregnancy or postpartum. Any later agreement between the two of you would be personal and voluntary.”

Elena nods. I do the same.

I can’t stand the thought of another man dating her while she carries our child. The reaction is possessive and premature, and it gives me no right to restrict her life.

Rebecca continues. “This contract cannot require sexual contact or compel either party to use a particular method of conception. The initial clinical attempt is your current mutual choice. Any change requires new, express consent from both parties at the time of that change.”

“So consent in this contract isn’t future consent to sex,” Elena says. She’s not asking. She’s stating a fact, drawing a line in the sand for both of us. A line I know she needs.

“Correct,” Amelia says. “It wouldn’t be enforceable that way, and the language expressly rejects that interpretation.”

“Either person may also end the conception arrangement at any time,” Rebecca adds. “Doing so cannot affect Ms. Vale’s employment, and it creates no financial penalty beyond obligations already incurred.”

Elena studies that paragraph longer than the others. When she finishes, she draws a check beside it.

“The approved possibilities include additional clinical procedures,” Rebecca says, “or natural conception if both parties later choose it.”

Natural conception.

Color moves into Elena’s cheeks, and I hear my own voice from the night in her office.

I prefer the old-fashioned way.

She keeps her attention on the contract. The tip of her pen presses into the page and leaves a dark blue dot beside the clause.

The attorneys just spent several minutes explaining that this signature gives me no claim to her body. My thoughts ignore the distinction. I picture her blouse on the floor, her legs around me, and Elena saying my name after all that careful control finally breaks.

A coil of heat tightens low in my gut. Fuck.

I shift back in my chair and force my attention to Rebecca. When I look at Elena again, she’s watching me. Her blush deepens before she drops her gaze to her notes.