16. Dominic #3
She gestures at the tablecloth, plates, napkins, and the restaurant’s exterior wall with an outrage suggesting Cliff has compromised the integrity of the entire game.
“I understand,” I tell her solemnly, enjoying the simple absurdity of it. “We’ll make sure he’s held accountable.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re encouraging this.” Cliff points at me with his fork.
“I’m supporting my teammate.”
Theo reaches for one of my fries while everyone is distracted. I move the plate closer to him.
Cliff catches me and shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”
For the next ten minutes, Sophie invents rules, Theo eats most of my lunch, and Rachel tries to convince Cliff that guessing something blue when the sky is visible should also qualify as cheating.
It is loud, disorganized, and completely removed from the controlled quiet I’m accustomed to.
I like every second.
Months ago, fatherhood was a responsibility I was willing to accept because Elena wanted a child and the idea of her choosing an anonymous donor woke something primitive and possessive inside me.
Now Theo is using my chest as a backrest, Sophie is demanding I challenge her father’s interpretation of the rules, and Elena is laughing with Rachel as though this has always been our table.
The child I imagine is no longer theoretical.
Neither is the woman beside me in that future.
Elena glances over at me. Her gaze lands on Theo, then lifts to mine. The warmth in her expression is unguarded for one dangerous second.
I feel it in the center of my chest.
She looks away first, returning to whatever Rachel is telling her, but the moment stays with me.
Sophie tugs on my sleeve. “Your turn.”
I search the patio for something that won’t cause another argument. “I spy something green.”
“The plant,” Cliff says immediately.
Sophie gasps. “Daddy!”
“What?”
“You aren’t on our team.”
“You took too long.”
“Disqualified,” I tell him.
“You don’t get to disqualify me.”
“The rules are very clear.”
“There are no rules.”
“That sounds like something a cheater would say,” Elena calls from the other end of the table, and the casual way she takes my side makes something in my chest feel settled.
Rachel laughs, and Cliff turns toward his sister with an expression of exaggerated betrayal. “You’re supposed to be neutral.”
“I’m in finance. I follow the evidence.”
Her eyes meet mine as she says it, private amusement flickering between us.
Cliff sees that too.
His expression doesn’t change, but his attention sharpens.
By the time lunch ends, Theo is asleep against me and Sophie has declared our team victorious. Rachel and Elena take her inside to wash her hands before we leave.
Cliff waits until they disappear through the patio door.
“What’s going on?”
I keep my voice even. “That’s a broad question, Cliff.”
“With Elena.”
I knew he would ask eventually. Knowing does not make the answer easier.
There are terms in a signed contract. Months of negative tests. Nights in her bed and mine. Her body spread across her desk beneath me. A fertility specialist’s recommendation. An agreement made in her kitchen two days ago.
None of it belongs in a rushed conversation while our families are twenty feet away.
I could lie. I could tell him a fraction of the truth. Instead, I choose to deflect. “What makes you think something is going on?”
Cliff leans back in his chair. “I’ve known you for most of my adult life.”
“And?”
“And you don’t spend an entire meal tracking anyone’s location unless you think they’re about to cost you several million dollars.”
“I wasn’t tracking her.”
“You knew where she was every second.”
“She was sitting at the same table.”
His eyes narrow. “You also moved your chair when the sun hit her face.”
I glance at the chair leg, still angled from when I shifted enough to block the light.
That had been instinct. I hadn’t considered that someone else might notice.
Cliff did.
“Elena can take care of herself,” he says, his voice low.
“I know.”
“She’s also very good at convincing everyone she doesn’t need anything.”
“I know that too.”
His attention holds mine. The casual humor from lunch is gone now. Cliff knows both of us too well to ignore what he sees.
“When Elena lets someone in, it counts,” he says. “She doesn’t do anything halfway, even when she acts like it. If you’re getting close to her, you need to understand what you’re doing.”
An image of her laughing across this same table ten years from now flashes through my mind. Clear. Inescapable. “I do.”
“That was fast.”
“I don’t need to think about the answer.”
Cliff studies me. “You mean that?”
“Yes.”
The patio door opens behind him. Rachel steps out first with Sophie’s jacket draped over her arm. Sophie follows, holding Elena’s hand while telling her something that requires dramatic gestures.
Elena looks toward me immediately.
I look at her before anyone else, the way I have all afternoon.
Cliff follows my gaze.
He doesn’t ask for details. He simply watches us with a new awareness as Elena crosses the patio.
Then he looks at me, his expression stripped of all humor, and says quietly, “I see how you look at Elena.”