Dominic #2
“They’ll probably interrogate me.”
“Even better.”
“And you know Maya and Marcus.”
“I know Marcus well enough.”
“He’s part of the group, Dominic. His presence isn’t a challenge requiring a response.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I look at her for a moment, letting the silence build. This is the point where she could retreat, could wrap the whole thing in professional courtesy and walk away. I have to know. “Are you inviting me because you want company, because you need a buffer, or because this is a date?”
“It’s birthday drinks.”
“That wasn’t one of the choices.”
“I don’t need a buffer.”
“Company, then?”
“Yes.”
I nod. “I’ll come.”
Some of the tension leaves her face.
I should let the conversation end there. “Why me?”
“I told you. You already took me to birthday dinner.”
“That’s the reason you’re willing to say aloud.”
She meets my eyes, and in the silence, I get my answer. It’s not a date, not yet. But it’s not just company, either. It’s a test. One she wants me to show up for, even if I’m not sure I’m meant to pass.
She gathers her laptop and legal pad. “Saturday at eight.”
“You haven’t told me where.”
“I’ll send you the address.”
“Am I supposed to meet you there?”
“That’s usually how people arrive at bars.”
“Separately?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
She rises. “There’s nothing interesting about transportation.”
“You put it in the contract.”
“I put travel involving a future child in the contract.”
“You devoted half a page to car seats.”
“Because they’re important.”
“So is getting you home safely.”
She gives me a long look. “You’re already becoming difficult, and this isn’t a date.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep ignoring it.”
“I heard you.”
“Good.”
Elena reaches the door.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I say.
Her hand pauses on the handle. She looks back at me without turning the moment into a joke or reminding me of a rule.
“So am I.” The admission is quiet, with no hint of deflection. It’s the most honest thing she’s said to me all week.
Then she leaves.
The next afternoon, I find Elena alone in the smaller conference room, reviewing Northbridge’s final response.
She has kicked off her heels beneath the table and tucked one foot behind the opposite ankle. Her hair is beginning to slip from the knot at the back of her head. A mug of coffee sits untouched beside her laptop.
She doesn’t hear me enter.
“You’re going to hate the revised retention schedule,” I say.
She looks up. “I already hate it.”
“Then we’re ahead of schedule.”
I take the chair beside her and turn the laptop enough to read the document. She doesn’t move away, but I feel her awareness shift toward me.
We work through the schedule line by line. Elena flags two inconsistencies, and I add a request for supporting documentation. The conversation stays professional until she reaches for her coffee at the same time I reach for the printed schedule.
Our hands brush—the back of my knuckles against her wrist. A flicker of heat, and she pulls her hand back as if burned.
“That seemed conclusive,” I say.
Her head turns slowly. “Our hands brushed. It’s not a data point.”
“I remember you making a similar argument about my mouth.”
“We’re working.”
“We finished.”
She checks the last line of the document. “Now we’re finished.”
I sit back. “Are your birthday drinks intended to provide a larger sample?”
“Of what?”
“Compatibility.”
“That one kiss seems to have encouraged your ego.”
“My ego wasn’t the part of me receiving encouragement.”
Her eyes drop for an instant before she looks at me again.
She picks up her mug and discovers the coffee has gone cold. “That was almost subtle.”
“I wasn’t aiming for subtle.”
“I noticed.”
“I remember what you said after the kiss.”
“That it proved nothing?”
“That’s the part you keep repeating.”
“Because it’s true.”
“What would you consider sufficient evidence?”
Elena turns the mug in her hands. “I haven’t developed testing criteria.”
“I’m surprised. You normally arrive with a binder.”
“That binder concerns having a child. It doesn’t contain a section devoted to your sexual performance.”
“You can add one.”
“I’m sure your attorneys would find a way to bill for it.”
“I’d pay them.”
She laughs and shakes her head.
I watch her take a sip, realize again that the coffee is cold, and put it down. “I like hearing you laugh.”
Her fingers go still around the mug.
Her smile fades, replaced by something more serious. The air in the room shifts. The professional pretext is gone, leaving just the two of us after work, with the memory of that kiss hanging between us.
Elena looks at me. “You can’t say things like that here.”
“I said it quietly.”
“That isn’t the problem.”
“I know.”
I reach for the printed schedule and square it with the edge of the table, giving her the space to decide where this goes.
“On Saturday,” I say, “I won’t assume that inviting me for drinks means you want anything else.”
Her hand stops halfway to the mug.
“If you want me there as company, that’s what I’ll be. If you want me to take you home, you’ll tell me. If you want me to kiss you again, you’ll have to make that clear too.”
“You were willing to assume enough at the barbecue.”
“I asked before I kissed you.”
“I challenged you.”
“And I gave you the chance to say no.”
She doesn’t look away. “You did.”
“I’ll do it again.”
Her shoulders ease, but then she frowns as if my restraint has created a new problem.
I can see how she’s spent years making sure she doesn’t have to trust anyone else to honor a boundary. I won’t give her a reason to doubt me. If that line moves, it will be her choice, not mine.
“Of course you’re being reasonable,” she says.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m relieved.”
“You can be both.”
Her lips press together.
I stand and collect the papers.
She slips her shoes back on and closes her laptop. When she rises, we’re close enough that I could touch her without taking a full step.
I don’t.
She studies my face, then her eyes drop to my mouth. The glance is brief, but I feel it like a touch, a current that runs straight through me.
“Saturday at eight,” she says.
“I remember.”
“And the clinic is still scheduled for Monday.”
“I remember that too.”
“This weekend doesn’t change the plan.”
“I haven’t asked you to change it.”
“No. You haven’t.”
She lifts the strap of her bag onto her shoulder and walks toward the door.
“Elena.”
She turns.
“I wanted to kiss you before the barbecue. Now I know I want to do it again.”
Her fingers tighten around the strap.
She leaves without answering.
I wait until Elena has been gone for twenty minutes before picking up my phone.
Elena said she wants company at a bar full of friends. After a few days of calling our kiss inconclusive, she may also want to see what happens when her brother isn’t standing twenty feet away.
Whatever she decides, I want to pick her up if she’ll let me.
I open our messages.
Dominic: What time should I pick you up?
Her reply arrives less than a minute later.
Elena: We can meet there.
Dominic: We can.
Elena: Well, that was simple.
Dominic: I’m still picking you up.
Three dots appear immediately.
Elena: That isn’t what agreeing means.
Dominic: I agreed we can meet there. Not that we should.
Elena: Of course you didn’t.
Dominic: I’ll have my driver take us. No worrying about parking, and we can both relax.
Elena: I can arrange my own ride.
Dominic: I know.
She doesn’t answer. I picture her staring at the screen, irritated because I haven’t questioned her ability to take care of herself. I simply want to be the one who arrives with her.
Dominic: You invited me to your birthday. Let me pick you up.
The response takes longer this time.
Elena: Seven-thirty.
I smile.
Dominic: I’ll be there.