Page 12 of The Best Bad Decision

Lolo

ill beat him up

who are we talking about?

ROO

Who could ever hate you, sweet thing?

Amie

Cam. Do you think he hates me?

Katy

Why would he hate you?

Amie

He should hate me

I hate me

Katy

I’m playing my violin for you

Lolo

@Katy ?? u don’t play violin

ROO

never change, Lo

I smile at the sight of Ruth’s signature kangaroo emoji alongside her name. She saved her number in my phone the day we met, alongsideROOand the little kangaroo, and it’s never changed. It’s her display name on every app. It’s one of those things I know I can rely on to always be the same, no matter how everything else around me changes. It’s comforting that way. Like having my best friends show up for me, regardless of anything else going on. It’s a comfort and a blessing, and not one I will ever take for granted.

Two days after my emotional text outburst, Katy makes herself at home in my kitchen.

“Wait, do that again,” I say. Katy untwists some of Maisy’s hair, then slowly twists it around her fingers again. She’s teaching me tobraid, because Maisy’s fine curls tangle so easily. Maisy kicks her feet and giggles. Roger is in his usual spot, tucked snugly under one arm, and she’s holding her tablet in her other hand, playing a puzzle game on the screen.

“When is he coming over?”

“Next week,” I say, mirroring Katy’s hands with my own. It looks so easy, but last time I tried, Maisy and I both ended up in tears. “Do you think he hates me?”

“A, I don’t even know the guy,” Katy says. “Hand me that comb? I don’t see why he’d hate you, though. You’ve just given him this little princess.”

“But I kept her from him for three years.” I hand her the comb and she uses the long, pointy handle to separate another section of hair. “Besides. If he meets her, he can break her heart and I’dneverforgive him. Or myself.”

“You want to keep all the hair tight to the scalp,” she instructs, effortlessly weaving the new section in with the rest. “He won’t break her heart. And it’s not like you could’ve told him anyway, right? You said yourself you didn’t get his number.”

“I didn’t even know his name. I thought it was Cameron,” I muse. I’ve lost track of the twisting and weaving. Katy continues, smirking, braiding all the way down one side of Maisy’s head and finishing it with a pink ribbon tied in a neat bow. Then she picks up the comb and uses it to slap my fingers away, before separating the hair on the other side, and beginning the whole process again.

“Exactly,” she says. There’s an edge ofduhto her tone. “You can’t blame yourself for not telling him, just like you can’t blame him for not being here. You would’ve if you could’ve, right?”

I nod. “I wish—”

“Don’t do that, Amie.” She interrupts me. “Don’t dwell on what could’ve been. This is where you are, and you have the chance to turn everything around. If this is what you want—if him meeting Mae is what you want—then it’s right there. Take it and move forward. Don’t lay blame.”

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