Page 11 of The Best Bad Decision

“Never really imagined you as a dad,” Gray says, effortlessly julienning vegetables. If he hadn’t joined the army straight out of high school, my best friend would’ve made one hell of a chef. “Not that you’d be bad at it—for fucks sake, you’ve never been bad at anything in your life.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I have,” I chuckle wryly. “Remember that volleyball game in tenth grade?” I suck down another mouthful of beer as Gray laughs heartily.

“Point is…” He gestures towards his phone with the knife in his hand. “That little girl is gonna be lucky to have you as a dad.”

“Thanks, Gray,” I say quietly. “I wanna be there… I’ve never really cared about having kids before, but Amie’s the first—theonlywoman I’ve ever seen a future with. And I want it.”

“Amie, huh? Cute.” Gray tosses an onion in the air and catches it before slicing into it. Show off.

“Yeah,” I sigh. Sheiscute. She’s fucking beautiful. “I just wish I’d known sooner, that’s all.”

“Not like you gave her your number though, am I right?” A handful of onion slices are thrown into the hot pan, sizzling and popping beside the phone.

“Not like she gave me much of a chance,” I mutter. “But no, she didn’t even know my full name.”

“So quit bellyaching about it,” Gray insists. “Go to London, see the girl, meet your kid, make them both fall hopelessly in love with you, and have a hell of a story to tell the grandkids.”

“Yeah, my folks said the same thing. I guess you’re right.” I point my bottle at the phone. “As always.”

Gray smirks into the phone as he sprinkles something brightly-coloured into the frying pans. He lifts the phone from the counter and brings it right in, giving me a close-up of his face.

“Of course I’m right. Gotta run. Fajita time.”

“Say hi to Lina and the boys for me,” I say, offering a quick salute.

“Wilco,” he says with a small salute, and then his face disappears from the screen. I barely have time to put my phone down before the screen lights up again, Maisy’s face grinning at me from a carousel horse. Amie’s name flashes up on the screen with three new photographs in our message thread. Today’s selection features Maisy riding piggyback on a blonde woman, a pair of wide grins on both of their faces. I’m not sure who the woman is, but Maisy seems to be having the time of her life. Another message comes in to explain everything.

Amie

Maisy & my best friend Katy. This was last week when I was in Toronto.

Every time Amie texts me a new photo of Maisy, I find myself juggling my screensavers, torn between wanting to have the newest ones on display and loving the older, established favourites of my daughter cheesing for the camera.

My daughter.

It still feels like such a foreign concept, and I wonder if it will ever feel normal.

I tried to play it cool with my parents. I let Gray in on some of my apprehension. But truth be told, I’m fuckingterrified. I’m terrified I’ll hurt her, or I won’t understand her, that we won’t bond. I’m scared we’ll bond too much, that I’ll get too close, and I won’t be able to leave. I’m scared that once I see Amie again, I won’t be able to walk away.

But I have to.

Amie invited me to London to meet Maisy, nothing more. She made it perfectly clear in Santiago that she sees nothing between us but ourlittle girl, a business arrangement of sorts. We’ll co-parent her, and maybe—hopefully—we can become friends. But that’s all it’ll ever be.

She’s too young for me. She’s too far away. She’s too sweet, too pure, too good for me. She’ll never love an aging bachelor who can’t quite bring himself to put down roots and let himself be loved, and however much that hurts, it’s probably for the best.

So I’ll go to London. I’ll meet Maisy, and I’ll love her, and Amie and I will spend the rest of our lives bound together by that sweet little girl. And I’ll spend the rest of my life missing the one that got away.

seven

Amie

Amie

Do you think he’ll hate me?

Katy

Who?

---