Page 66 of Say My Name

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“I’m overwhelmed. I’m also okay.”

“Do you want water?”

“Yes.”

He follows me into the kitchen, and after pouring two glasses of water, joins me on the couch. We sit with several feet between us this time.

Dominic stays until I finish the water. He doesn’t mention Monday’s clinic appointment or ask whether I’ll invite him upstairs again.

When he stands, I walk him to the door.

He touches my face. “May I kiss you good night?”

I nod.

The kiss is slow and gentle. He ends it before I’m ready.

“You did nothing wrong,” he says, his thumb brushing my cheek.

“Neither did you.”

“I know.”

Dominic opens the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I won’t.”

“I know that too.”

He leaves.

I lock the door and return to the living room. His empty water glass sits on the coffee table, a perfect circle of condensation on the wood. The couch cushions are uneven. I can still feel the weight of his hands on me, and the space he left behind feels just as real.

CHAPTER 10

Dominic

The fertility clinic gives me a plastic cup, points me toward a private room, and reduces my part in creating a child to directions printed on a laminated sheet.

I knew exactly what today would require. Elena and I reviewed the process with her doctor, signed the forms, completed the testing, and agreed to begin this way before either of us knew what her mouth tasted like.

Knowing doesn’t stop me from hating it.

Elena sits across from me in the waiting room with her coat folded over her lap. She chose a black dress and low heels for work, and her hair is pulled into the neat knot she wears when she wants every piece of herself contained. Nothing about her suggests she was naked beneath me less than forty-eight hours ago.

Then she looks at my hands.

Her eyes lift immediately, but I saw it. She remembers what those hands did on her couch. I remember her fingers around my cock and the sound of my name when she came against my mouth.

A man near the reception desk turns a magazine page. The television mounted in the corner runs a morning show with the captions on. Elena uncrosses her ankles and crosses them again.

“Did you sleep?” I ask quietly, noting the faint shadow under her eyes her makeup doesn’t quite hide.

“Enough.”

The same answer she gave me during the contract negotiation.