Page 9 of Beg Me

“We have all summer together,” Gus says, oblivious to my thoughts. “And it might be good for you to get out on your own a little and make new friends, too. Find some opportunities to sharpen your game.”

That gets a chuckle out of me.

“So I can go?” he asks.

I pause, trying to weigh the benefits and potential risks. “Do you have your phone?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I say, blowing out a breath. I don’t want him walking there alone, but I also know that’s more of a selfish thing than an actual safety thing. And I can’t let my issues affect my kid. “Go ahead. But if I call, I need you to answer or call me right back. And if it starts to get dark, come home.”

He heads for the door, sighing in eleven-year-old dramatics. “You’re worse than Mom.”

“She’s had eleven years with you and kept you alive. I’m only in year two. I have a lot to prove.”

His laughter lifts the corners of my lips. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, kid.”

I almost get the words out before he slams the door like he’s afraid that I’ll chase him.

The house is quiet, almost too quiet, as soon as Gus is gone. I mosey around, picking up a pair of his socks off the living room floor and pulling an empty water bottle from behind a couch cushion. Deidre doesn’t let him get away with this bullshit at her house, and I promised her that I wouldn’t let him turn feral this summer. Unlike last year when I was completely out of my depth.

My phone rings, breaking through my thoughts, and I swipe it off the counter. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Deidre says, her tone warm but restrained. “How are things going?”

“I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh no. Why?”

I grin. “Because I was just wondering if I promised you that I wouldn’t let our son become a savage while I had him, or if I told you that I’d do my best.”

She groans, making me laugh.

“Just yanked a water bottle from behind a cushion,” I say. “But he might not ever want to see another frozen pizza again, so you’re welcome for that.”

“I don’t know how to respond, so I won’t try.” She chuckles. “He seemed happy when I talked to him this afternoon. You were at a farmers’ market or something.”

A smile stretches across my lips as my mind goes back to Markie and Gus. Leave it to my son to attempt to “butter up” the hottest woman there so his dad could swoop in for a date. At least she was a great sport about it. And at least he has excellent taste.

I nibble my bottom lip, my weight shifting back and forth. Thinking of her sends a spiral of restless energy through my body. I talked to the woman for fifteen minutes, and somehow, she’s already taken up residence in my brain. Our conversation has been lingering in my head since I walked away from her.

I’ve been around beautiful women before. Beauty catches your attention, but there has to be more to someone than good looks to hold it, or it’s forgettable. It’s easily replaced by the next pretty face.

Markie, though, isn’t only beautiful. She has it, that mysterious quality that has you forgetting to check your phone when you’re together, willing to buy peach jam you’ll never eat, and wondering how you can “accidentally” run into her next.

I drop the water bottle into the recycling bin. “Yeah, we swung by there and checked it out. Gus is at the park now. It’s at the end of our street, so don’t panic. I could be there in three minutes.”

Deidre laughs. “If I didn’t trust you with our son, he would be here with me.”

The compliment makes me pause. It carries weight, coming from her. She’s an excellent mom.

“Anyway,” she says, “I’m calling to let you know that Gus’s pediatrician called in a prescription to your local pharmacy for an inhaler. He probably won’t need it, but I forgot to make sure he packed his and found it on his desk this morning.”

“The pharmacy is in the grocery store, and I’m heading there in a little bit because God forbid, we eat another pizza.”

“Perfect. And please, please, please don’t forget to work with him on his math. I know it’s not fun, but he got so far behind when he had pneumonia over the winter. If he doesn’t catch up this summer, I’m afraid he’ll just keep falling further behind.”