Page 15 of The Best Bad Decision

I offer a tight smile, squeezing his fingers once in return. It’s about as much as I can manage right now. My stomach churns uncomfortably and I open the car door, swinging my body out and unlocking the tailgate to unload Cam’s bags. In my periphery, I see my living room curtains twitch and two grinning faces appear, before the muffled sound of footsteps and the click of the lock. There’s definitely no turning back now. Cam balances his backpack on top of his suitcase and dangles the gift bag from his fingers, to the world a picture of calm, but for the rhythmic shifting of his weight from one foot to the other. The door opens and Maisy shatters any hope of a quiet entrance.

“MAMA HOME!” she cries, barrelling into my legs on the doorstep and knocking me off balance. Not for the first time in the last few weeks, Cam catches my elbow, steadying me as I right myself. “Who’s that?”

“Mae, go and play with your planes for a few minutes baby, let me talk to Katy before she leaves, okay?”

With a dramatic eye roll more befitting of a teenager than a three-year-old, Maisy flounces into the living room and seconds later, I hear her chattering away to her stuffed dinosaur. I quickly introduceCam and Katy, and then hurriedly usher Katy out the door while Cam focuses on the photo gallery I’ve hung on the wall in the hallway, images of me and Maisy from the last three years.

“Thanks for looking after Mae this morning,” I say. Katy gets the hint, waggling her eyebrows in Cam’s direction when his attention is elsewhere. She makes a phone signal with her thumb and pinky, holding her hand to her face and mouthscall meas she backs out of the house, turning to strut down the driveway with a cheeky swing in her hips. She turns back before she crosses the threshold onto the street and winks lasciviously. I grin with a shake of my head, and close the door.

“She’s…” Cam starts, then trails off. He doesn’t turn to me, still focused on the newest photo on the wall. Paloma took the photograph of Maisy just before her recent birthday. She’s dressed in lilac long sleeves under a pink pinafore. Her hair is in low, loose pigtails and she’s holding an ice cream cone, face pushed up towards the camera in a big, cheesy grin. She’s cheesing so hard her eyes are scrunched almost closed, but there’s no mistaking those deep green irises. It’s one of my favourite pictures of my sweet little girl.

“Yeah, she’s always looked just like you,” I whisper. He lets out a heavy breath. “You wanna meet her?”

His throat works as he swallows hard, taking a deep breath as though gathering courage, and then he nods. I leave his bags in the hallway and lead him into the living room, where Maisy is lying on her belly on the floor, surrounded by crayons, her attention focused on the outline of a dinosaur in a thick colouring book. She looks up when we walk in and I offer the sofa to Cam, perching on the edge of my favourite armchair, patting my knee. Maisy runs over and hops up, wrapping her tiny arms around my neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” I whisper into her hair. Everything is about to change, and there’s no going back. My stomach churns again, but when two pairs of identical green eyes pin me with identical expectant stares, I clear my throat and choose my words carefully.

“Maisy, do you remember a few days ago when we talked about your daddy?” She nods solemnly, her eyes locked with mine, unconditionally trusting. My mouth dries out and I have to force the words to keep coming. This girl, this tiny, sweet whirlwind of a girl trusts me completely, loves me wholeheartedly and relies on me for just about everything. And I’m about to hand someone the opportunity to shatter her world. I push past the dryness, swallowing down the lump in my throat.

“And do you remember that I told you my friend Cam was coming to visit?” Another nod.

“Well…” I glance over at him, unsure of how to continue. His expression is unreadable, eyes fixed on Maisy, cataloguing every expression on her face.

“Baby, this is my friend Cam.” I try again. Before I can continue that thought, Maisy turns to smile at him and offers a small wave.

“Hi Cam,” she says shyly. “Do you like planes?”

Something indescribable colours Cam’s face. He opens his mouth to speak, then clears his throat and tries again.

“I love planes,” he answers. He glances up at me and I nod, loosening my hold on Maisy’s waist as she begins to wriggle. She slips down until her socked feet hit the carpet, then rushes for a basket tucked into the bottom of the TV console table.

“You wanna play?” she asks Cam. His face splits into a wide grin as he slides from the sofa to the floor, legs wide to create the perfect space forplaying. Maisy hefts the basket from the shelf to the ground and then tips it unceremoniously, releasing toy planes of all types, as well as a few cars, some toy airport and street furniture, and an errant dinosaur or two. She pushes the eclectic collection between them and reaches for a plane with a blue and white livery. The paintwork is chipped and worn from regular play.

“This one is my favourite,” she announces seriously.

“That’s your favourite?” Cam repeats, shock and awe colouring his voice. “That one is my favourite too!”

The knot in my stomach begins to loosen, and I slip out of the room quietly, heading for the kitchen. From there, I can see and hear them play without interrupting, and for the first time since bumping into Cam in The Santiago Hotel three weeks ago, I allow tears to fall.

nine

Cam

She’s perfect. Maisy isvivacious and funny, smart like her mother and just as beautiful. I can’t stop staring at her: a miniature version of the face I see in my own reflection in the mirror, wild curls escaping from braided pigtails.

She pushes another plane towards me down our makeshift runway and I sweep it up high into the air, making my best impression of a GE-90 engine. Those fuckers areloud. It comes out like a roar and Maisy giggles gleefully, telling me I sound like a dinosaur-plane.

Her imagination is wild. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, but when she plucks a toy plane from the pile on the carpet, holds it in the air and correctly identifies it as an a380, I’m not just impressed, I’m a little in awe, and already falling a lot in love with this tiny spitfire.

“Do you know Mama see planes at work? She fly with them all the time!” Maisy tells me seriously, taxiing a green jumbo jet around my legs.

“I did know that,” I reply. “And do you wanna know something else really cool?”

Her curious eyes—my eyes—snap up to my face and I lean in conspiratorially.

“I work on planes just like your Mama. I get to make them fly!”

Maisy’s eyes widen like dinner plates and she squeals with excitement; I swear my heart grows to three times its size. Fuck if that little girl’s sheer unbridled joy isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

---