Page 3 of Beg Me

“I’m not married.”

“Boyfriend, then?”

“No, no boyfriend.” The words come out of my mouth before my brain can think fast enough to stop them. Why am I having this conversation with a little kid? “This is really none of your business.”

“What about a girlfriend?”

“What? No.”

He shrugs. “Had to ask. You never know.”

“Again,” I say, taking another drink, “it’s none of your business.”

“Then stop answering my questions.”

I sigh, closing my water bottle and placing it back on the bench under the table.

“Listen,” he says. “I have a dad, and he’s quite the catch. And he needs a woman to spend time with him so he stops wanting to spend it all with me.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, because I do. I’ve known him for a couple of years, and it’s great having a dad. But I’m eleven, and this is our second summer together, and he needs a hobby.” He leans closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “That doesn’t involve me.”

A laugh passes my lips before I can stop it, and I can’t decide if the kid is amused or offended by my reaction. Either way, I can relate. When my parents died when I was fourteen, my grandparents stuck to my sister, Mira, and me like glue for months. Then again, I’d known my parents for my whole life.

Why hasn’t this boy known his dad?

Before the thought can take root, I shove it out of my mind. Family relationships can be complicated, and this is not my circus. I have enough of my own crap to worry about.

“So …” he asks, grinning. “You are single?”

I’m not exactly sure how to answer him. If I tell him that I’m not in a relationship—that I’m technically single—he might take that the wrong way. But I’m not in the business of explaining to little boys, who are too nosy for their own good, that I’m not looking to change that. It’s not like I can tell him that my last boyfriend cheated on me and is now trying to dethrone me as the Pickleball Princess with his mistress in tow.

That’s too much for me, let alone this kid.

“What’s your name?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Augustus. My friends call me Gus.”

I grin. “Okay, Gus. It’s complicated.”

He stares at me. I wait for him to respond but get nothing.

“Hello?” I ask.

“I was waiting on you to tell me your name, considering you used Gus and all.”

“I’m Marcia. My friends call me Markie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Markie.” Gus leans against the table as if he’s settling in for the long haul. “Now, why is your relationship status complicated?”

“I have things I’m working on and don’t have time to date.”

“Like what?”

“Like a pickleball tournament, for one.” I straighten the stickers that Brenda gives away as marketing material. “I’m not in the dating pool, so you’re going to have to hook your dad up with someone else.”

“But you’re his type.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Gus groans. “You’re telling me. I thought you were the answer to my prayers.”