Page 10 of The Best Bad Decision

Of course I am, man. She’s my kid. How can I not?

Gray

Good. I’d have to kick your ass six ways to fucking Mongolia if you stayed away. Now send me a photo, Lina wants to see her.

I swipe through the photos again and send a selection of my favourites—Maisy with her dinosaur, Maisy covered in ice cream, Maisy sat astride a carouselhorse.

Gray

Damn, those Whitehouse genes are strong. Lina says hi. Got some work stuff going on soon, may be off-grid for a while. Will text when I can. Stay safe in the sky.

I smile as I plug my phone in to charge, catching sight of Maisy in fairy wings as my lock screen lights up.

Yeah, my whole world just upended, and I have no idea how it’s going to play out from here. But I do know that if my future looks anything like that little girl’s smile, then I think it’ll be okay.

six

Cam

Ilet myself inthrough the front door and cross through the house to the back porch, where I find my Mom knitting a series of complicated-looking shapes, needles clacking away in her hands. Dad is reading something about muscle cars, reading glasses balanced low on his nose. I flop into the third chair at the table, slouched with my legs splayed out in front of me, and sigh heavily.

“Morning, son.” Dad lowers the magazine and peers over the top of his glasses to look at me. I offer a grunt in response.

“So, you and this girl… you like her,” Mom begins. She’s focused on her knitting, needles twitching as she twists and knots the yarn around them. I’m not sure what it’s going to be, but it’s a pretty shade of sunshine yellow. She’s been needling me for information since I shared the news, desperate to see me settled and happy. I’ve declined every one of her matchmaking attempts for the last few years. Since that night in Singapore, I haven’t been able to see a world beyond the one Amie showed me. I haven’t thought about another woman. I haven’t even wanted to.

“I like her. But I don’t know if she likes me. She’s young, Mom.” I throw an arm up over my eyes and peek out beneath it.

“Maisy or her mom?” Dad sets his magazine down, looking pleased with himself.

“How young isyoung, Camden?” Mom’s eyes narrow slightly.

I shrink into my seat. “She’s thirty-one.”

Dad lets out a bark. “Thirty-one ain’t all that young, son, not compared to you.”

“She’s just… we’re in such different places.”

“Of course you are, honey.” Mom soothes, never taking her eyes off her yarn. “She’s been busy being a mom for the last three years, and you’ve been living it up in your dream job without a care in the world beyond where you’re flying to next. That’s okay. But things change… and so can you, if you want to. Do you want to?”

That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it?

Do I want to change? It’s not like I’ve spent the last three and a half years as a playboy, chasing tail around the world and refusing to settle down. That’s never been me. Commitment-shy, sure, but my hesitancy has always come from a place of uncertainty, not a desire to play the field. If Amie had called, if I’d seen her, if she hadn’t walked out of that hotel room—I would’ve made her mine a long time ago. But she didn’t, and I didn’t, and so as of right now, I’m a single man with few responsibilities and a job that routinely takes me all over the world. Except, responsibility looms now.

I have a daughter.

Do I want to change? Do I want to settle down? Do I want to be a dad to that beautiful little girl?

I think of that big smile with tiny teeth, eyes that crinkle at the corners, a button nose that scrunches when she grins.

Yeah. Yeah, I do.

“You ready for this, man?” Despite his off-grid warning, Graham has been in touch almost daily since I surprised him with the news about Maisy. It’s been business as usual. He’s tossing some kind of marinated meat into a wok with his phone propped at a Dutch angle, giving me a unique perspective of his kitchen. His wife Lina walks into the background of the frame, wrangling a laughing redheaded boy. She waves towards the camera with her fingers before disappearing into the rest of the house.

“I think so,” I say, kicking my feet up on my bed. It’s been a long week of flying, and I landed back into Phoenix this morning, only to find my SUV sitting in the parking lot with a flat tyre. That led to a couple of hours in the baking heat, trying to unwrench the flat and replace it with the spare before I could drive myself home. “No. I don’t know. Honestly, Gray, I’m kinda fucked.”

“Oh, you’re totally fucked,” he says, and I hear Lina protest his language in the background. “Sorry, baby,” he says, turning away from me. And then: “But are you gonna put on your big boy pants?”

“I’m gonna go meet her, if that’s what you mean.” I take a long drink of beer, rolling the cool bottle against my cheek.

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