Page 73 of Beg Me

Drake takes another bite. “How does it feel to be walking away from the game? Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” I say. Mostly. “It’s time. That’s for sure. But there’s a lot of moving parts that I haven’t quite figured out.”

“Are you sticking around Nashville?”

And here comes the nerves. I set my pizza down and grab a napkin.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what Markie said about Gus only being a kid for six or seven more years. Of course, I knew that, but I’d never thought of it in that context.

“I don’t know,” I say. But what Markie said has resonated with me. Gus already lost one dad, his “first dad.” How could I not want to move closer to him? How could I not be there for him every day? I love that kid unconditionally, and I have to do whatever it takes to make sure that he knows that. “I’m leaning toward moving to Nevada to be close to Gus.”

“Makes sense. You’ll get to be there for those teen years.” Drake laughs. “I’ll pray he’s more like his mama and less like you.”

I laugh, too. “No shit. I’ll be walking into one of the most important parts of his life. Hope I don’t fuck him up.”

Drake studies me for a minute before sitting back in his seat. “My dad had this saying while we were growing up. It came out a lot when I was frustrated about football practice or when my sisters didn’t want to go to church.” He grins softly. “Presence over perfection. I heard it a million times over the years. He’d rather us show up and do our best than wait until we could do it perfectly.”

Presence over perfection. The phrase rolls around my brain.

“Gus doesn’t need a perfect dad, Jory. He just needs his dad.”

Lisa comes back to the table, engaging Drake in conversation about a customer from a day or two ago. While they chat, I use the time to carefully consider what Drake said.

When I was growing up, my dad worked his tail off. He often worked two jobs to keep the household running. He was a great father, and I looked forward to spending the random Saturday with him, even if that meant sitting in the garage while he worked on our car. That thing always needed a repair.

He wasn’t perfect, but that didn’t matter to me. I just wanted him. My dad.

Lisa places our checks on the table. Before I can ask Drake if he’s ready to go, my phone buzzes.

It’s Markie’s name on the screen, so a smile slips across my face.

“Hang on, Drake,” I say, unlocking my device.

Markie: If your goal was to make me so sore that I couldn’t stop thinking about your cock today, I’d like to let you know that you succeeded.

Now there’s a text that every man wants to receive in their lifetime.

Me: That wasn’t my goal, but I’m happy to hear you’re thinking about me. And/or my cock.

Markie: Do you know how weird it is to be at work, having a conversation about honeybees with a guy who could be my grandpa, and all I can think about is how it felt to be stretched open by you four times yesterday?

Me: Keep it up and I’ll kidnap you from work, and you’ll get it again.

Markie: Don’t threaten me with a good time.

Me: What time are we meeting at the courts?

Markie: Six. We close at four during the week, but we have a finance meeting right after to go over utility bills and stuff.

Me: Gus might need a math lesson after.

Markie: Are you using your son to get me to your house?

Me: It’s worked so far.

Markie: Yeah, but that was before I knew that you were built to be ridden. You can just invite me over now.

Me: Consider this a standing invitation.